18454/Havenwood: Arrival

Havenwood: Arrival
Date of Scene:	27 June 2024
Location:	Havenwood, Washington
Synopsis:	Rien and Logan take a trip to get away from things. Instead, things find them. The town of Havenwood is more sinister than it appears.
Cast of Characters:	Logan Howlett, Rien D'Arqueness

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Logan Howlett has posed:
The past couple of weeks haven't been the best. Logan has had more than one run-in with a powerful psychopath from his distant past and things haven't gone well for the ole Canucklehead. On the other hand, his kin from another timeline showed up bearing gifts just when he needed it. Something he ordinarily loathes, like an unannounced visit, turned out to be a boon in this case. Even though Rien had just returned to the New York area, the pair of them decided to take a trip to the Pacific Northwest and ended up in a small town in Washington called Havenwood.

Deep in the dense forests of Washington State, Havenwood is surrounded by towering evergreens and shrouded in a perpetual mist. The isolation of the area makes it difficult for outsiders to stumble upon the town, but isolated is right up Logan's alley.

Nearby mountains and rivers add to the town's rugged beauty and provide it with an almost eerie atmosphere.

Having just arrived in the quaint 'downtown' of Havenwood, Logan pulls the late model Bronco into a parking space and kills the engine, peering down one end of the street and back towards the other. Downtown consists of a general store, a diner, a pharmacy, a pub, and several other small businesses. Typical small-town fare. "Seems as good a place as any."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien always tries to stop by when she's back in the area, let him know that she's around, bring him some of his favorites from afar. Their history is complicated, as are most things in the Howlett family, but Logan's eldest is perhaps the most like him.. at least in some ways.

Nobody would ever guess they're related, with her being short, French, blonde, and blue-eyed. But they share a lot of personality traits, to say nothing of the mutant powers she inherited from him, albeit enhanced by the strong magics inherited from her mother's side.

Still, when Logan suggests a trip the PNW, who is Rien to disagree? She's always been more comfortable in the country than the city. And an invite from Logan is like a golden ticket from Willy Wonka. Not something you turn down!

Stretched out comfortably in the passenger side of the Bronco, Rien shares an easy silence with Logan as they drive through the pines and hills of Washington. The picturesque little town is certain to be termed a 'hidden gem', though for the traveling pair, its draw is its isolation rather than its quaintness.

Looking around, Rien gives a nod, "Small, quiet.." she tilts her head out the open window and sniffs lightly, "and it doesn't stink." Bringing her head back inside the vehicle, she nods to Logan, "Hit up the pub, maybe? Bartender can probably point us towards a motel, or b&b, rental.. something we can grab for a couple days. If we're lucky, there'll be cabins outside the town limits."

Logan Howlett has posed:
When the engine stops, the town is quiet. The only sound is the clanking of the keys dangling from the ignition and birds chirping down either side of the street.

Rien's suggestion of hitting the pub draws a grin across the old man's face as he casts her a glance from the corner of his eye, "If yer gonna twist my arm." He plucks the keys from the ignition and leans his weight against the door, opening it with a weak metallic creak. Climbing out, his feet hit the pavement with a dull thud. He tests the door back and forth, the creaking persisting. "Might have to stop by the hardware store for some WD-40."

Finally shoving the door shut, he stuffs the keys into his jeans pocket and hoists his heavy frame up onto the sidewalk and makes his way towards the pub, tugging the door open and holding it for Rien to step inside. Once she's inside, he'll follow.

What they'll find inside is a pretty typical northwestern pub. Nothing special, just a lot of wooden panels and outdoorsy, forest decorations. Photos of the mountains, forests, a bear snatching a salmon from a rushing stream. A dozen or so people are inside, all of whom stop at the arrival of two out-of-towners, glancing up from their tables and drinks to watch the curious duo step inside.

Everything seems more or less normal, with the exception of a few abnormalities in some of the patrons.

One man has an enlarged jaw, giving him the appearance of having a pronounced underbite with two sharp teeth poking between his lips.

A woman has pointed ears.

It looks like a man with longer hair and a hat on has horns trying to poke out from beneath the concealment.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien glances sidelong at Logan and curves a half-smile at him, "First round's on me." She wrenches the door open on her side, hopping down amidst a squeaking from the door, closing the door behind her with a 'thunk'. Once her feet hit the pavement, her hands tuck into her pockets and she wanders around the front of the Brocno.

"And washer fluid. You said to remind you at the next town you needed windshield washer fluid. Shouldn't be a problem. Looks like there's a hardware store just a few doors down from the pub. We can grab a bite, have a drink, get a recommendation, then hit up the hardware store before we go figure out where to hole up?" She lifts a brow towards him in question.

Moving with him down the sidewalk, Rien gives a small nod to Logan as he holds the door for her. Stepping past, she enters the pub and glances around, taking in the atmosphere, but also the exits, the chokepoints, and the worst places to sit.

Also the patrons. Interesting. Leaning in towards Logan, she murmurs, "Mutant town?" They are't unheard of, especially in remote locations. In either case, she simply nods to the locals and heads with Logan towards the bar.

Finding a stool, she takes a seat, keeping one foot on a rung of the stool as she leans an elbow onto the bar. Impassive, unbothered by anything they may or may not have seen. Rien glances to Logan, then to the bartender. "Hey. Got a menu? And maybe a recommendation of a place we can stay over for a night or two?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan makes a mental note to pick up some washer fluid. Given the time of year and the insects in the forest, it's a damned miracle they could even see through the windshield by the time they arrived.

Stepping up to the bar, Logan hoists a leg over a stool and rests beside Rien. Hooking the heel of his boots against the rungs. He folds his arms over one another and rests them against the edge of the bar, not so much concerned about a menu as he is the taps on the other side. "Gimme a pitcher. Of anythin', doesn't matter."

The woman behind the bar looks like she's been alive for as long as the two mutants have been but without the benefit of having a healing factor. Deep wrinkles scattered across her face, a cigarette hangs from her mouth and she tosses a pair of laminated menus onto the bar in front of them. "Sure. Whaddya want?" he says, looking at Rien.

It doesn't take a telepath to notice the discomfort everyone inside is feeling now that Logan and Rien have arrived. No one is speaking and they all seem to be staring at the two. Expressions range from nervousness to annoyance.

"Lively bunch," Logan mutters as he slides off of his stool and trudges over towards a silent jukebox. He spends a moment looking through the list of songs available before he fishes out a few quarters from his pocket and slips them into the coin slot and presses a few buttons.

The bartender, as she fetches the drink orders, replies, "We got the Knotty Pines just up the road on the edge of town. Cheap enough and cozy." She glances between the two of the travelers with an almost suspicious look.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Bourbon, double, neat. And a pitcher of whatever he's having."

Rien tilts her head towards Logan before looking over the laminated menu. "Elk burger, rare, no mayo, yes mustard. Onion rings instead of fries. And whatever he wants." Her thumb hooks towards Logan once more, "One check."

When the woman moves away to get the drinks, she glances sidelong at Logan and curves a faint smile, "I was just thinking that we fit in pretty well here. Rare that *we're* the talkative ones." She scans the room, reading the expressions of the locals, one brow lifting.

When Logan goes to play some music on the jukebox, Rien keeps an eye on the patrons, waiting to see how they react, ready to jump in if someone starts getting froggy. Not that Logan can't handle himself, but she's not about to let him have ALL the fun.

Turning back to the bartender when the drinks arrive, she gives a nod, "Thanks. We'll check it out."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Perhaps surprisingly, given the types of situations Logan gets into when he hits up a dive bar, no one seems intent on starting any trouble with either of them. At least for now.

An old Neil Young tune starts playing as Logan makes his way back to the bar, not paying any mind to the people staring at him as he moves. The sudden music doesn't seem to have helped anyone's spirits, though. Except for maybe Logan's.

"Reckon I'll have the same as her. You can keep the mustard." Logan's a simple man. Meat with salt and pepper is usually good enough for him.

Through the fogged windows, the other side of the street is hardly visible, but if either of them happen to glance that way, they might notice other residents peering at them from across the street. An old man standing in the doorway of the barber shop across the street. A lady walking down the sidewalk pushing a toddler in a stroller.

"Don't get too many visitors 'round here," Logan says casually as pitchers are placed in front of them along with Rien's liquor. "We like keepin' to ourselves," the lady behind the bar rasps. "More visitors means more trouble." She says that last bit with a stare at both of them.

From outside, the high-pitched sound of squeaky brakes can be heard. The front half of a solid black SUV pushes into view from the window. Windows fully tinted. The kinda SUVs you see in movies involving the CIA or some other government agency.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
As long as nobody starts anything with the old man, Rien is content to sit on the stool and let them stare. Not like she's not used it by now.

Her lips twitch into a faint smile at the chosen song, shifting on her stool as Logan reclaims his. While he keeps his focus on the bartender, she keeps hers on the room. Leaning back againt the bar with her elbows up on the edge, Rien scans the room, then out through the window. She lifts a brow at the sight of the gathered locals staring in at them.

"Good. So do we. We're just passin' through, lady." She glances back at the bartender, lifting a brow at the 'more trouble' part, flicking a glance towards Logan, then lifting a shrug.

Her position gives her a front row view of the parking SUV, features pinching as she gives Logan's arm a light nudge. Just a heads up to him that there's more incoming. It's like the town is wired for sound, or telepathy. They show up and suddenly *everyone* is interested. At least it's more likely to be government-issued trouble here, black ops of some kind, maybe.

Logan Howlett has posed:
When the SUV creeps into view, everyone inside the bar seems to finally have something else to pay attention to besides the pair of visitors. There is a collective shift in the air as eyes turn towards the window. Annoyance gives way to fear and apprehension. Whoever the people are in the SUV, it has the residents on edge even more than Logan and Rien do. Even the people staring from across the street suddenly go back to whatever it is they were doing before.

"Got 'em," Logan murmurs from the side of his mouth as he grabs a pitcher and fills up a glass for himself and Rien. "Friends of yours?" Logan asks, his eyes swiveling up to gaze at the bartender, his thumb poking towards the SUV on the other side of the window.

"N.. no. I don't know what the hell yer on about," rasps the woman, who promptly turns and disappears into the kitchen. Presumably to check on their food.

Logan looks at Rien for a moment before turning to look out the window. "I suppose it's too much to ask for a quiet goddamn trip."

For now, everything seems quiet. No one is visible through the tinted windows and no one seems to be stepping out of the vehicle.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Interesting..."

Rien can smell the changes coming over the people in the bar, no doubt Logan can, too. She lifts her glass to take a swallow of the bourbon, still watching the SUV, waiting to see who will approach the pub. She flicks a glance towards the other patrons while Logan questions the bartender.

Lifting a brow at the woman's response, Rien glances sidelong at Logan and quirks a faint grin, "Ten bucks says we wandered into a black ops government testing site." Not that that will change anything, of course. She takes another drink of her broubon before murmuring, "Oh give over, you would hate a road trip without a brawl somewhere along the way."

Her eyes turn briefly towards the kitchen before she sighs, "Damn, I was looking forward to that burger. We'll never get the food now." Her grumbling continues for a moment or two under her breath, in French, slipping back into her native tongue to express her displeasure with whoever sent the SUV over.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Somewhere in the back of the bar, a phone rings, but only once.

Logan doesn't seem to pay attention or care about the ringing phone or who may have answered it. His eyes are locked on the SUV for the time being. "I guess you're right, darlin'. It ain't a vacation until a little blood's been spilled."

After another few seconds, the SUV slowly lurches forward and begins to pull away. No distinguishing marks anywhere on the side visible to them and at the angle they are from the truck, the license plate isn't visible either.

Satisfied that the truck is gone, there's a collective relief that washes over the inside of the bar. Now, everyone seems to go back to whatever passes as normal in this town. No longer concerned with Logan and Rien's presence, the men and women go back to drinking their beers and cocktails and having seemingly mundane conversations about the Seattle Seahawks or some other nonsense.

The bartender finally emerges from the kitchen with two platters stacked with a burger and onion rings. Despite the atmosphere, the burgers actually smell amazing. "Hot damn that smells good," Logan rumbles through a smiling face. He grabs his beer glass and hoists it towards Rien, "Cheers, darlin'."

The bartender's attitude lingers somewhere between relief and anxiety, however. Her eyes shift between the two visitors, but she doesn't speak aside from a hesitant, "Get ya anything else?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Like, Rien doesn't seem all that interested in the phone that rings once, or whoever may have answered it. Likely just assuming that it was the bartender.

Her eyes stay on the front of the SUV, watching it with all the disaffected aloofness of a cat while she finishes off her bourbon and pours out a beer. "The fight in Tucson wasn't bad, but it was over too quickly. Soon as you dropped the big guy, the rest of them scattered.."

When the SUV pulls back out after a few tense moments, Rien lifts a brow, grunting softly in surprise. "Huh." Apparently there's a first time for everything. She'd been looking forward to the snarking, too. Government guys always have to posture.

Lifting her glass, she tips it against the rim of Logan's, a smile spreading across her face at the sight of the food. "Sante." Lifting the glass for a swallow, she turns towards the bar to inhale the scent of the burger and onion rings, savoring it before the first bites.

"Think we're good for now. Thanks again." Rien nods to the bartender, then hefts the burger to dig in. A good elk burger is hard to beat. The meat is well-marbled but lean, grinds up well, and makes for a tasty burger that doesn't leave the bun soggy from grease and fat.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Before Logan gets started on his food, he kills his beer, then pours himself another. Once his glass is full and the pitcher is less than half, he inclines his chin towards the bartender, "I'll have another."

The bartender grunts and goes to fetch another pitcher to fill up. The lady behind the bar fits right in with Rien and Logan attitude-wise.

"People don't stand a chance," he says before he takes a large bite from his burger, pausing long enough to chew at least once or twice before continuing with a full mouth, "Still feels good to knock a few skulls." He grins at Rien as he continues eating, then washes it down with a big gulp of his beer.

One of the men in the bar rises and heads over to the bar, leaning up against it with an empty glass, "Another, please, Rhetta." As he waits, he glances over at Rien and Logan, then over his shoulder before leaning in towards the two, "You guys oughtta get out of here. You gotta trust me."

The bartender, Rhetta, glares a hole through the man, "Shut yer damn mouth, Glen." She puts his beer down in front of him and gestures that he should shoo off back to his seat. "Ignore him, he's fuckin' wasted."

Logan's eyes drift towards Rien. The man smells like he's only had maybe one beer. Seems fine to Logan, at least, but he doesn't protest. Instead, he simply grunts and takes another bite.

Glen, defeated, sheepishly heads back towards his seat.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Chuckling as Logan gets another pitcher, Rien eats up a few onion rings and enjoys her own beer. She's going at a slightly slower rate than Logan, but seems to be putting away more of the food. Perhaps building up towards slamming back drinks after she's eaten.

"Course they don't stand a chance. Doesn't mean *they* know that, or that they shouldn't *try*. Just seems wrong to run from a fight is all," Rien shakes her head and takes another bite of her burger. She flashes a grin towards him and gives a nod, "We'll have to find some trouble to stir up in the next town or somethin'."

Her eyes track over to the man that's getting a refill, lifting a brow at his warning. She meets Logan's gaze and lifts a shrug, still chewing on her burger.

Once she's swallowed, she looks back to Rhetta and shakes her head, "We'll be outta here in a day or two. You might want to let your 'friends' in the SUV know they should leave us alone. We're just passing through. They don't start none, won't be none." Picking up an onion ring, RIen bites into it, "Damn good onion rings, though."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Amen to that, darlin'," Logan responds to her sentiment that it just feels wrong not to fight. He lifts his glass to clink it against hers before he takes another long pull, downing the rest.

As he pours himself the remaining beer from his first pitcher, he casts a sideways glance towards Rien, mumbling, "I get the feelin' that we ain't clear o'trouble here just yet." His eyes shift towards Rhetta as he picks up his burger, pausing just before taking another bite, "Somethin' ain't right here." He cocks his head to the side, gesturing towards the others in the bar, "An' I don't mean the horns an' shit."

Rhetta seems borderline offended by the remark. Or is at least putting on a good enough show of being offended by such a remark. Logan, on the other hand, takes another bite. The bartender scoffs, "I think you two need to leave as soon as you finish your food." As she says this, she folds her arms over her chest in some strange gesture of defiance and pride.

"In that case, can you put that pitcher an' maybe two more in to-go cups?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Clinking glasses with Logan, Rien takes another swallow or two before biting back into the burger while she refills her glass with her free hand.

Chuckling softly at Logan's response, Rien glances at him, "What tipped you off... the black SUV, the weird phone call, or the guy trying to warn us?" Sighing, she mutters, "Wish they woulda come inside. Then we coulda beaten it outta them and been on our way." Taking another swallow, she laughs softly once more, "Are horns even that weird anymore?"

Looking back to Rhetta, Rien lifts a brow, looking supremely unimpressed, "If that's supposed to be a threat, lady, you got a loooooong way to go." She glances sidelong at Logan, "We gonna kick up some fun before we move along? Could stand to stretch my legs a bit before we hop back in the Bronco."

Not like hunting down some shady black ops company is going to preclude them from drinking the beers. If anything, that's just hydration on the go.

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Can't quite put a finger on it," Logan replies before stuffing another bite into his mouth. His delivery doesn't suggest anything, but it's clearly his way of being sarcastic. Not something he's really known for, but he likes to pepper it in from time to time.

He does, however, take a moment to glance over his shoulder at the man who warned them to leave, who is now sitting quietly with his head lowered so that his hat covers his face. It's almost as if he's hiding. From Rhetta? Or just from the world at large.

Enhaling through his nose, Logan shakes his head and returns to his meal.

Rhetta purses her lips together and shakes her head, going to fetch their bill, clearly not pleased with their presence and anxious to have them leave.

As Rhetta steps around the corner towards the register, another patron walks by, heading towards the restroom. As she passes, she mutters quietly, "It's not safe here. You two should leave." Without making eye contact, she continues to the bathroom and disappears inside.

Logan simply turns and looks at Rien, "Fuck's sake." He swivels on his stool and addresses the bar as a whole, "There somethin' you all wanna say?"

As if right on cue, the door opens and a half dozen men walk in, all wearing fitted black suits and sunglasses. Curled white wires extend from an earpiece in each of their ears.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Snorting out a laugh at Logan's response, she continues to eat her burger, finishing it up in a few quick bites. Lingering a little over the onion rings and taking swallows of her beer between them.

She follows Logan's line of sight, then looks back to him, one brow lifting at her father before she glances down at her plate again. Only a few onion rings left. "Think we should order dessert?" There's the tiniest curl to her lips.

"Don't forget the to-go beers!" Rien calls after Rhetta before looking to Logan, "Think she'll pour them for us? I'm not sure she will." Chuckling, she picks up the last onion ring and eats it, downing what remains of her beer after.

Rien hears the warning of the woman, but chooses to ignore it, letting Logan handle that, meeting his look and lifting a shrug at him. She may be trying not to grin.

Turning around slowly as the men file into the room, Rien lets out a laugh, "It's so cute when they match, isn't it? Wonder which alphabet soup group they're with.."

Looking back to Logan, she smiles, "Finish your beer, I'll go ask them what they want. Maybe they can give us directions to the motel." Patting Logan on the shoulder, she pushes up off the stool and steps down to the floor. Pulling a few folded bills from her pocket, she sets them on the bar, "For the bill."

Strolling forward, she offers a bright smile, "Hi there! Don't suppose any of you can give us directions to the... oh, damn, what was the name of that motel the bartender told us about?" Rien glances back to Logan, brow lifted, "Forgotten Pine?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
"If I thought they'd serve us any dessert, I'd order ya some," Logan responds before he takes another long drink from his beer, not visibly concerned about the men who are menacingly filling the space in the bar, forming almost a semi-circle centered on Rien as she rises to her feet.

When she pats him on the shoulder, Logan emits a quiet chuckle and nods to himself, "Tag me in if ya need help."

He does, however, glance over as the other patrons in the bar get up and hurry their way out, clearly not interested in being around for whatever is going to happen next. Rhetta emerges from around the corner with their bill in her hand when she notices the well-dressed gentlemen, "Shit, fellas, not here, alright? Go fuckin' somewhere else." She rests one hand on her hip and sighs as she looks between Logan, Rien, and the men. "Fuck's sake."

Her echoing Logan's sentiment draws a look from the hairy mutant. He snorts.

One of the men closest to Rien as she approaches them pulls something out of his coat pocket and quickly advances on Rien, trying to grab her arm with one hand and push something towards her neck with the other. It's a syringe.

Two others close the gap between themselves and Rien as well, while the rest move towards Logan.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"I bet they have a killer pie. We have to try to get a slice," Rien offers back to Logan with a quick flash of a grin. Apparently completely unconcerned by the Men in Black that are trying to menace them.

Stepping out in front of Logan, Rien murmurs over her shoulder, "There's only six of them, no need to trouble yourself. If they call for backup, you can have dibs on them." She shrugs out of her leather jacket and tosses it onto the stool she vacated, "I like that jacket, don't want it getting all bloodied up."

Lifting a brow at the men that advance, Rien can't help but snort a laugh at Rhetta's words, flicking a glance at Logan, "Took the words right out of your mouth?" Then she's watching the man with the syringe approach and curving a smile, "Aw, that's adorable. He has a sedative. Smells like.. propofol and.. penobarbital?"

Ducking the arm, she grabs the man by the wrist holding the syringe, twisting his arm around and up, pushing the injection into the man's own neck before whirling to fling him into the trio going after Logan. It should keep them down long enough for her to deal with the other two. She turns towards the other two with a smile, "So. Which of you have the taser, and which of you has the zipties? You can tell so much by who carries which gear..."

Leaping forward, she kicks the first in the diaphragm to get him bent over, using him as a launching point for a handspring up and around, twisting int he air to wrap her legs around the other's neck, punching the man twice in the temple and riding him to the ground. Another kick is launched at the first one's forehead, landing right between the eyes on her way to the floor, landing on both feet and straightening up.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan sits in silence and simply glances up at Rhetta to watch the old lady watch Rien fight the men. Even if he couldn't tell how she was doing from the sounds going on behind him, he could read it on the bartender's face. She's in utter shock at what she's witnessing. He's seen the look thousands of times before, but it's usually when he's doing the dirty work himself.

Sedatives. They want to take the two of them alive. But why?

The first one gets a taste of his own medicine. Literally. The sedative in the syringe acts fast and he's damn nearly snoring before he slams into the three advancing on Logan.

The next one meets her heavy kick right in the gut and doubles over, the air knocked out of his chest. He gasps for air and stumbles as she uses him as leverage to spring up and land on the shoulders of the next man, who is knocked upside his temples and taken down.

When she rises to her feet, there is a calm over the bar as the jukebox runs of of money and silences. Moans from the conscious men rolls across the wooden floors as 3 of them try to get to their feet. The ones that had been coming at Logan.

One of them lifts his wrist towards his mouth and mutters something into his sleeve, clearly communicating with someone. This finally causes Logan to react, reaching out and swinging his straightened arm in a wide arc backwards, slamming his fist into the back of the man's skull, knocking him out instantly. Another pulls out a taser and levels it towards Rien, firing at her, yelling at the others, "Get her, dammit!"

"Good luck with that, bub."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Flicking a lock of hair away from her face, Rien isn't even breathing hard as she approaches the other three... make that two, a smirk on her lips as Logan knocks out one of the men with a sinle blow to the back of the head.

Rolling her eyes at the taser, she catches the prongs in one hand, immediately flinging them back at the man with a small snort, "Ranged tasers. If you can't get close enough to make contact, don't bother. Idiots." The last man standing is given an arch look and a smile. Diving forward into a roll, Rien sweeps his legs out from under him, moving up into a crouch before slamming a fist down onto the man's forehead hard enough to bounce his skull off the floorboards, knocking him out.

Rising up, she dusts off her jeans and hands, moving back over to the bar, slippiing back into her leather jacket and leaning against the bar. Turning a look towards Rhetta, she lifts a brow, "So. Want to tell us what's going on now?" She glances at Logan and smiles, "Bet we can get dessert now."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Swiveling back around to face the bar, Logan reaches up and nudges his empty pitcher towards Rhetta. When she makes eye contact with him, he simply glances down at the pitcher then back up.

She doesn't say anything and takes the pitcher and goes to get a refill. When she comes back with a fresh pitcher, she stands on her toes and peers over the bar at the men sprawled out all over the floor, then looks at Rien as she takes a seat. "Look." She pauses long enough to pull out a Virginia Slim cigarette and light it up, taking in a deep pull of smoke before exhaling. "These guys," she says, sweeping her hand out in a broad gesture towards the downed men, "They take people. Do things to 'em."

Her eyes focus on the two mutants as she extends one arm stiffly towards the window leading to the street, "That's why half the people in town are all fucked up with horns an' shit." She looks back down at the men and nervously takes another drag from her cigarette. "They're everywhere. They'll be at your hotel. They'll keep comin' until they get you."

Logan picks up the full pitcher and takes a drink directly from it, then lets out a long 'ahhhh' and wipes a few drops from his chin with the back of his hand, "We appreciate the warnin', but we don't have much to worry about." He glances over at Rien, "What do ya think, darlin'? You worried about these assholes?" He glances back at Rhetta, thumbing towards Rien, "Yeah, you got any dessert?"

Rhetta just looks at the two, nervously puffing away on her cigarette, "I think I have a Snickers somewhere back here."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Pouring herself out another beer, Rien takes a long swallow and lets out a relaxed sigh, stretching her shoulders a little, "It was nice to stretch after the last few days in the Bronco."

Looking back to Rhetta, she glances back to the men on the floor, then back to the woman, "Genetic tampering? Rough." She shakes her head and leans in over the bar a little further, "ANy idea which agency they're with? Obviously you guys got targeted for your remoteness. Nobody would notice if this place just sorta... disappeared from maps."

Glancing back to Logan, she gives a small snort, "They interrupted out lunch. I've got half a mind to go find their little 'hidden compound' and kick their asses back to Washington." She finishes off her beer, a disappointed expression on her face when Rhetaa says there's no real dessert. "Well, damn."

Looking back to Logan, Rien lifts a brow, "What do you think? Stay here and see how many we can stack up, or do we move the party to a new location and wait for the next wave?"

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Look, I can't tell you much. If they find out, I'm fucked," Rhetta says as she manages to suck down the rest of her cigarette and then immediately fish out a new one. "They aren't government." She lights the cigarette, "It's a company. GeneSys."

"We don't know where they are or where they came from, but they take people. If anyone tries to leave town, they take them for a while and return them changed."

Logan glances over at Rien, a look forming in his eye. "How long's this been goin' on?" He looks back to Rhetta for an answer.

"4? 5 years? Honestly couldn't even tell you anymore."

Logan reaches up and licks a drop of burger grease from his thumb and then sighs, sliding off his stool. He fishes his wallet from his back pocket and tugs out a few bills, tossing them onto the bar next to Rien's payment from before.

"Knotty Pines. Just outta town. This way?" He thumbs in one direction and Rhetta nods. He looks to Rien, "I think we've got some plannin' to do."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien waves a hand dismissively, "It all traces back to the government. You think someone, somewhere, in some office in some government building didn't rubber-stamp the experiments then outsource it to whoever would give the cheapest quote?" This is what happens when you predate most of the modern government by decades. You start to learn all the little nasty secrets. "It's all plausible deniability. GeneSys gets caught, government can hold up its hands all 'we had nothing to do with this'."

She pushes up to her feet once more and hops off the stool down to the floor. Ambling over to the goons ont he floor, she grabs up one of the ear pieces and checks them for more deadly weapons than syringes and tasers.

When she straightens, the ear piece is cleaned off and tucked into her ear, the curly cord hidden by her hair as she grins at Logan, "And now we can listen in to their radio chatter." Tucking her hands back into her pockets, she nods to Rhetta, "You guys just keep your heads down, spread the word. We'll handle the suits."

Waiting until Logan turns for the door, she nudges his shoulder with hers, "Better than a bar brawl. This *is* a good vacation."