20378/Sinner or Saint

Sinner or Saint
Date of Scene:	05 April 2025
Location:	Saints and Sinners Club
Synopsis:	Christian meets a doctor who makes house calls.
Cast of Characters:	Dr. Phosphorus, Longshot, Christian Frost

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Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus is not familiar with starting up a criminal organization. A few murders here and there. Ask who wants to work for you. A couple more murders. Recruitment is now 100% one way or another. He has found that a start up is different. You need to recruit thugs. Thugs are not interested in what you did a decade or more in the past. So he's doing a hands on approach. Putting out the word he's hiring and undertaking jobs for money. Fabian Cortez gave him money and it almost immediately was gone buying influence, setting up a headquarters and such.

Sometimes, fortune just favors you. In this case an offer to help out with Mutant snatching in New York fell into his lap. He demurred. Too busy. Thank you.

Cortez would pay well for his information. He'd pay better on a Mutant by Mutant basis for each rescue.

Doc slips into a shoulder harness and throws on his floor length fur coat. He tops it with his floppy pimp hat and heads out. Heeheehee...

Longshot has posed:
Christian Frost is on enough ecstasy right now to kill a medium-sized dog. Bad feelings? Simply not possible! Maybe never possible! He's good enough at 'recreation' to know how to keep the darkness at bay long enough for things to kick in and let him bath in that perfect wrap of serotonin. It helps to be at locations that encourage such pleasantries. A bad trip is simply a matter of not being practiced enough at denial and compartmentalization. Don't look at the things that bring the emptiness when on one's way up or down.

Simple!

Christian doesn't remember a time feeling bad when he feels like this! Perfection, truely! It's like now is the only time that matters and only time that can matter.

Night clubs are great places to be high and he feels relatively safe in most of them. Mutant Town as a whole? Far less-so. He did, unintentionally walk into the hands of mutant traffickers only a few weeks ago. Absolutely accidentally summoned/manifested/whatever/nonsensed a monster that killed them. That happened. Totally how it happened too. It was awful and is on the list of things Christian has compartmentalized away to be worried about Later and laughed about Now.

Tonight is about Good Vibes Only.

Thus, he's dressed to the nines in perfectly unblemished white. Long coat draped over his shoulders rather than worn, a string of pearls over a turtleneck, white leather boots without heels, but high enough to reach the knee. He leans against bar with a hum, but before the request is made the barkeep is with him.

"Frost, you should probably head home before you crash. You know we don't mind you letting loose a little here, but you do have an effect on people when you're on the downswing. Our telepath is off tonight, so no one around to keep you fun for everyone." The barkeep's words are kindly, his demeanor relaxed as he puts a wineglass in front of Christian with a wink, "Last one."

"Last one! Of course, who'd argue with you darling?" The laugh is immediate, wine sipped with a cheerful hum, no offense at all taken, "I'd hate to bring the place down! I'll be off soon. But I need you to call me a car-"

The barkeep nods easily, "I heard about your new condo, congratulations!"

"It is lovely, you should come over and visit sometime~ But no, no, it's too late to be wandering out there. Mutant trafficking on the rise and all-Don't want to try and survive a round two!" Christian's laugh remains easy, "-Or three or whatever it is now."

However the bartender tenses at this, "Chris, were you saying you-"

Christian snickers over his drink, lifting it to the barkeep with a wink, then turning away, fully intending to continue his night.

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus enters, a black mask covering his face. He slips over to the DJ. Money exchanges hands. The faceless pimp draw several glances as he steps onto the dance floor. He begins dances surprisingly well. After a minute the pimp's selection is played: Moliendo Cafe. Glowing hands yank the black mask down, revealing a glowing skull who dances disco style, one hand pointing upwards.

Do surveys the venue, searching. One predator can recognize other predators. He spots the two making a beeline for the young fop in white almost immediately. Probably going to stay close and wait for him to leave with the ladies or not.

Mutie? Maybe. Sometimes it doesn't show, lucky bastard. The music changes to some rock. The lighting begins strobing. For what it's worth Doc's dancing get a small round of applause. Heh.

The snatchers spot him when he is already very close. A pair. One steps in Dr. Phosphorus' path.

"We got this. Beat it Skeletor!"

Doc never liked that name. Skeletor lost all the time. He'd accept Skel, Phossie Bear, even Boner. He had a sense of humor.

By way of reply, Doc rams his hand into the snatcher's chest. He lifts the man up, already nearly dead, then immolates him. His colleague stands rooted as doc draws and shoots him through the head.

People scream and flee in a panic. The sprinklers activate. The lights are replaced with red emergency lighting.

"Mutant Town, and Mutants are protected. touch a Mutant and DIE!"

Longshot has posed:
Round two or three or whatever it is

Christian is too happy with the world, too comfortable here, so incredibly pleased that his life is momentarily going well. He doesn't notice the two men who hear his words. Doesn't notice the immediate interest, the unspoken conversation and weight in the glance back and forth.

Someone who's tangled with the traffickers and escaped? Can't have that. Can't have word get out that things are ramping up. Can't have people who've walked away exist.

One has an arm around Christian's shoulders, forcing his attention as his friend steps up against the distraction that is Dr. Phosphorus, a gun is out and pressed into Christian's temple within moments, unable to back away, rooted in place from the murder and screams.

"TAKE A STEP AND HE DIES FIRE-FUCKER!" This is yelled, Christian a shield.

Christian is no longer having a good time, still hellishly high and clicking a bit slowly than he should be-But there is a gun to his head and sprinklers on as an incredibly poorly dressed flaming skeleton yells.

That's when the man is shot in the head.

Pretty white outfit splattered red.

Christian stares at Dr. Phosphorus as the man holding the gun to his head keels over. Very slowly, Christian steps away from the two bodies and lifts his hands up. Nothing clever coming to mind, everything is bad, "Thanks? Can this stop happening please?"

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus opens his coat and replaces the Mac 10. Cheap weapon. He's used much better. His glowing ribs are shown. The arm of his coat is bloody up to the shoulder. Fire fucker, that's a new one.

He snaps the brim of his hat up and the women flee. When he speaks, his voice is not unkind.

"Come with me and I'll see you get home. I am a friend. You have to trust me. You can't have the police get hold of you... you're high as a kite. You will not flourish in jail." The skeleton extends a hand that is surprising warm though hard if Christian takes it.

Christian Frost has posed:
You know what is fun to look at while on hallucinogens? Even mild Hallucinogens?

Fire.

Christian just stares at Phosphorus. The offered hand is looked at, eyes starting to slide toward the bodies of the two dead men and stop, back to the fire.

Everything is bad. The bar almost empty at this point, the scream of sirens can be heard in the distance.

Christian would be able to pay his way out of jail or prison. But this is not a helpful thought. He is, in fact, very high and now covered in blood and had a gun to his head only moments ago.

Why is everything bad? It is hesitant, but the offered hand is taken, "Who are you? Why are you-"

On fire? That's also an unhelpful thought. Even high, Christian has the social graces to know not to ask someone why they are on fire.

"-fighting for mutants?"

More helpful thought, he did just declare to the world that's his thing. And Trust? That's a tall order, but he did just save Christian's life, so perhaps not so huge of an expectation.

Trust granted. "I live in Manhatten."

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus hauls Christian up and hustles him to a fire exit. "Move." In passing he throws several business cards on the floor.

"I hope for fuck's sake you're a Mutant. Are you? Don't lie to me, it's a good thing." Yes good. Cortez was paying for every precious Mutant saved. In fact Doc thinks he could make a tidy sum just following Christian around.

Outside there's a nondescript Super Cooper he hustles Christian into.

"Belt up now safety first. Again are you a Mutant? I won't ask a third time." A little menace creeps into Doc's tone as he pulls out.

Christian Frost has posed:
Christian allows himself to be hurried, though there is a sway to his steps. Grip on Dr. Phosphorus's hand tight at times, mostly to stay upright. The car is not commented on, despite the Very Helpful Thoughts Christian is having about it.

Better to stare at the fire.

The guy doesn't know him, that's nice. Not involved in business, not someone who'd know the waste the past ten years have been.

Belt. Seat belt. Christian will grab the thing, pull and just hold it, attention back on the fire.

It will take Phosphorus leaning over and taking the seat belt and snapping it in to bring words out of Christian again, even though Christian watches every movement. He does not notice the sudden lack of his wallet.

"Yeah, I'm a mutant." Everything is bad and the helpful thought of demonstrating that he is, in fact, a mutant might make that edge to the Fire's tone go away.

It's not something Christian likes to do, but everything is A Lot and A Lot makes the dampening effects drugs have on powers Less. Some times the drugs themselves are enough of A Lot to trigger his lack of control, but this is easy. Simple. The thing all telepaths can do.

<<I manifested as an Adult, but they tell me I'm a mutant.>> The words in Phos's head somehow sound as out of it as the verbal words, <<Not one of the useful powers though.>>

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus glances at him. Not useful. "Try having your skin constantly being cooked, motherflower. You're a telepath, though a shit faced one. A few blocks away Doc finds a spot to park and unbelts Christian. He hustles him up the stoop of a brownstone and opens the door. Once inside, door locked, he removes his huge hat, letting Christian see the krackle above his head. He indicates a couch in a plain though well furnished living room. "Sit. I'm going to get you right. This is not a time to be high. What are you on?" Doc takes Christian's face between his hands peering at him. "I don't want to give you anything you'd have a bad reaction to. If it's Kick you get coffee and a nap. So what is it?" He tugs Christian's eyelid back to examine his pupils.

Christian Frost has posed:
Fire. Christian isn't sure if it's him or the skeleton that makes the fire flicker, the green flame flickering in colors that fire generally isn't. Then again, fire also isn't generally green.

Another set of Very Helpful Thoughts cross Christian's mind: Namely, why is the man green? Is that in Christian's head or is that real? It looks amazing either way. Secondly where were they? He's not worried, just curious.

There is no complaint, just a crack in the 'calm' and Christian laughs, "Motherflower? Motherfucker, you can cuss at me, holy shit! MotherFlower? I'm gay, I'm not a pansy!"

He is, in fact, also a pansy. Not a fighter this one.

The knee-jerk reaction to the full fire of Dr. Phosphorus's head is to immediately reach out and try and touch it-run hand through krackle. Words all used up for the moment, full focus on the glow.

The first real offense flickers across Christian, "I'm NOT on Kick! That stuff is-what do you think I am? Crazy? I'm not Crazy! I'm not going back there!"

It's been a long time since Christian was institutionalized and a long time since Christian has had Kick, but wow, neither are things one forgets in a hurry. Kick was Great until it Wasn't. It Wasn't right around the time his powers went wild. Kick is like that. After all, manifesting a mutation as an adult tends to come with some darkness.

However, words back online, he nods, trying to push Phos's light away from his eyes, blinking rapidly as the world spins with the light, "M' a little drunk-not bad, not bad, just been dancing with Molly, ummmm, you know Ecstasy?"

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus goes to get a tray that has several loaded syringes on it. He removes the cover on the hypodermic and says, "Ok motherfucker, roll up your fucking sleeve. I was trying to be fucking professional." Phos grabs Christian's arm and rolls the sleeve up himself, searching for needle tracks. He administers the shot with little pain. He is a pro.

'He sets the used needle aside and then produces Christian's wallet. He flips it open.

"This is what you get for getting in a car with a strange skeleton. I'm guessing this is your actual ID because you're not too bright. Christian Frost... any relation to Emma Frost?" He hands the wallet, money and all back.

Christian Frost has posed:
That there is blood on his clothing seems to register again, sleeve, there's blood on his sleeve and it's not his. There's someone else's blood on him. Christian just stares at it, there is no attempt to resist. His arm is littered with the scarring of a long-time user, and even if Phosphorus was not a pro, it's possible Christian would not flinch at yet another needle.

There is a mild reaction at the wallet, a wide-eyed blink-blink as it being His is registered. He blinks again, clearly already starting to feel the effects of-

There it is-

Christian groans, a hand to his head and curling into himself. The pleasant gone, the bad gone, just a crash back into sobriety, "What the hell did you just-"

Wallet and ID is stuffed back into pockets, "Yeah, what of it? Little sister, you'd know that with any cursory googling of my name."

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus thinks a moment. "Christian, I am Dr. Phosphorus. I am stopping Mutant trafficking. No need to know why and if I think you're getting in my head... I won't like it. Secrets after all. Now... I had no problem stopping those men but since I put in some unpaid overtime on you, I would appreciate any gratitude you or your little sister would care to show me. Also take this." He hands Christian a card with a flaming skull.

"By next week, any Mutant trafficker you show that too will piss themselves. Trust me on this. No extra charge. In fact here's one for little sister. There... this is a bank account in the Grand Caymans if she wants to show me her thanks. I'm not holding you here. this is just a safe house. Leave when you feel up to it. And all I gave you was B-12 and adrenaline you little prick. I read about Mutants having an enhanced metabolism. You could probably recover from all this shit you've done more quickly than you have any right to."

Christian Frost has posed:
"Look, it's not like I'd be able to do anything in you're head, I told you it's not one of the useful ones-I'm not very powerful. Keep your thoughts to yourself and I'll not chat in you're head and that's all there is to it!" These words are snapped, Christian's head in his heads. Not about to mention his connection to the Astral Plane because that is Bull Shit and Also A Hinderance.

Still, both of the cards are taken.

He doesn't speak right away, remaining locked in the pain of being able to think again and the tenuous hold he has on his own powers when not on something. Deep breaths. Don't freak out. Deep Breaths.

Ignore the very unfortunate conversation with Emma to come.

"And here I thought you might be a nice guy-Sure. Sure. Whatever you want. You'll have your cut. I want a change of clothing without blood on it or I'm not stepping foot outside.-"

Deep breaths, don't vomit, don't let the world in-No body-bits out, no world-in-

Eyes will flicker up briefly, "One question, why are you protecting mutants? You didn't know who I was when you stepped in-What the hell do you want?"

Dr. Phosphorus has posed:
Dr. Phosphorus indicates a door. "Help yourself to a jacket in the closet. As for my motives. I represent a group of pro-Mutants interested in protecting you lot. Till you get serious about the uprising. I'm taken care of. That's all you need to know. Your heroes are all busy scrapping giant robots or waiting for your leaders to stop spouting philosophy and give them marching orders. The trafficking continues. Jail won't stop these thugs. They understand one thing." Doc gets up to leave.

"Stay as long as you want. I rented this place till the end of the month. I'll be around Mutant Town and I have contacts out. Not too hard for a friend to get a hold of me. As for being a nice guy... I'm not nice. I can be beneficial. You want to get clean I could probably help you."

Christian Frost has posed:
Christian is Not up on Mutant politics. He's barely up on Human politics. Christian doesn't generally get up with things outside of his own little bubble of unfortunate happenings.

So no idea comes to mind at Phos's words. Pro-Mutant Happenings could mean anything and his brief time at that stupid school had not been very nice. Still, he's not so stupid as to think the man he just saw murder two thugs in public is generally the hero-type.

Christian makes no move to stop Dr. Phosphorus, head falling back into his hands, breathing as slowly as he can. In. Out. In 5 count, out 3. In-

Christian looks up sharply at Dr. Phosphorus's last words.

Get clean?

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Should Phosphorus check in, Christian stays at the safehouse almost 12 hours and will appear in the safehouse multiple times in the coming month in 10-12 hour bursts, seemingly crashing there rather than risking being high in Mutant Town alone again. He does take a coat that first time and it is returned cleaned. And though not a massive amount, a tidy sum of money will appear in a particular bank account of the Grand Caymans. First one payment. Then a second. Christian might not have the financial backing he once did, he does fine for himself and is willing to be on 'slim' pickings for a few weeks.