2014.01.04 - The Universal

Smallville Kansas

A small town in mid-America

The opening chords of a song by Blur, 'The Universal', play in a whimsically foreboding fashion. They emulate from a small, pop-up speaker sitting next to a StarkPad. A lit cigarette burns near its end, held lazily by dark fingers, the other pair tapping away at the tablet's screen with a rapid-fire pace that sits in odd cadence against the cigarette, half-full bottle of beer, and airy chords of the music.

Kwabena is seated at the small hotel room's desk. It's one of those last few road motels that actually have smoking rooms. He still wears the jeans from earlier, but his shoes and shirt have long since been discarded, revealing the trimmings of his high-tech X-Men uniform in a recognizable gunmetal gray.

As the song hits its first chorus, he sits back in the seat with a long frown. The cigarette is snuffed out in an ashtray scattered with butts and he reaches for that beer with a languid motion.

Outside, snow has begun to fall. Perched just outside room 127 is a six-pack, two bottles missing, and an old Harley Davidson is parked just beyond.

Amid the snow, somewhere later into the evening, there's a knock on the door. Outside, the Man of Steel stands sort of awkwardly in the cold. His hair is covered with bits of white and his suit is slick from where the flakes melted against his skin and body heat. And outside there, he just sort of stands. Reminiscient of a kid who is knocking on a neighbor's house, asking his friend to come out and play.

The knock on the door is both expected and not. Kwabena wasn't precisely sure if the Man of Steel would take his bait, and in fact, there's a part of him that had begun to think he wouldn't. Out here, in Smallville, Kansas, it's unlikely that any of his enemies were coming out to play. With a half-cocked eyebrow he looked to the door, then rose from his seat and quickly crossed the room.

The door is unlatched. Kwabena has done nothing to change his appearance, though the visibility of his X-Men uniform is certainly enough to convince one of his identity. He steps away from the door without saying a word, permitting Superman entrance. One never knows who might be watching, though at this hour, the presence of any observers is highly unlikely. Only when he's moving to close the door does he speak in a quiet voice.

"Beer?"

"Never in costume," Superman says with a dismissive wave. He walks into the room a few feet, inspecting the cigarette butts with a slight look over his shoulder. He turns around slowly, the red cape twirling a bit as he turns back to face Kwa. "So," he begins awkwardly. "Guess it wasn't too hard to figure out who I was, all things considered." He gives an upwards nod, "Perhaps the bigger, or at least most current question is: What were you doing in Smallville, Kansas?"

It's certainly a sentiment Shift can appreciate. He closes the door, leaving the security latch unlocked so that there's a sense that Superman might escape quickly if he felt it necessary.

For the time being, Kwabena remains standing. He offers a lopsided grin at first, then makes a simple motion with his hand. "You don't have to be concerned with dat. I undahstand de value of keeping secrets." The second question however, earns a more concerned look. For a moment, the African mulls something over in his mind, before decidedly walking over to the StarkPad. A simple tap on the screen silences the music, and he brings it over so that Superman might see what is displayed.

"Court records," he explains. "State of Kansas, Child Protection Services, de whole nine." He relinquishes the StarkPad if it's taken, before his face is folded into a frown. "De Sittenfeld family is in trouble."

It never seems to cross his mind that Superman might find his timing suspicious.

Though the thought did occur to him, it does not seem entirely likely that Shift would be fighting against demonic mutant monsters one moment, and assisting alien conquerors the next. Batman would be paranoid over everything, of course, and in fact probably is right about now. But as far Superman goes, he's willing to give Shift the benefit of the doubt, having seen the African in action.

He takes the StarkPad and slides his index finger up the side as the glow of the screen light sup his face. "Sittenfelds?" Superman's mouth twists trying to figure out who they are. "They live over on Highway U, not far from Paddington Farm, right?"

"That's right," answers Shift.

The Sittenfelds never had much money, and while not exactly troublemakers, they've never had many friends. The court records reveal that their son was claimed by the State of Kansas Child Protection Services per court order on July 3rd, on grounds of civic endangerment. Public records claim that his X-Gene caused those around him to exhibit erratic behaviors, and given that the family couldn't afford a decent attorney, they lost custody of their son without much in the way of argument.

"He's not de only one. I've located at least nine oddah mutants, all claimed by de state ovah similar charges. But, when I speak with dere friends, dere families, I'm not receiving anything in de way of cooperation. Gut tells me dey're being blackmailed by someone." He shakes his head. "I was here speaking with dem when... it happened."

Only then does he show an admission to the irony. It flashes for a brief moment, before a frown comes to his face and he takes a step backward, suddenly seeming very concerned for his personal safety. "You don't think that I..."

Superman shakes his head absently as Shift begins to back up slightly. Kal's eyes never leave the StarkPad as he murmurs to Shift, "I don't mean this in an offensive way, but if I did and were here to hurt you, I wouldn't have knocked. I probably would have broken through the door and tried to ice-freeze you."

Superman finally tears his eyes away from the StarkPad, gives a half grin and shrugs his shoulders.

Then back to the pad.

"What happens to the kids when they get to the State? Have they ended up in foster homes already? Did they get adopted? Usually kids who are older take longer to get adopted. If there are a ton being adopted, that could be a clue."

These two come from very different worlds, but regardless, Shift finds he appreciates the Man of Steel's sense of humor. No longer defensive, a smirk crawls across his face. "Good point."

The grin only lasts so long. He walks forward again, reaching over to tap something on the StarkPad. A browser comes up. "New Horizons Clinic, Las Vegas. Mental Health facility. All de reviews claim it's among de best of de best. Except... dose reviews are planted. Placed by bots. Also, if de place is so good, why is nobody willing to talk about it?" He shakes his head. "Not just children. Adults. Teenagers. Senior citizens. A man in Chinatown tried to shoot me for asking." He folds his arms over his chest, frowning sternly. "I offered to fly de Sittenfelds back to New York, give dem sheltah and safety, and dey still won't talk. Dey're scared of something. I'm out to find what it is."

Superman eventually holds his hands out and pad back towards Shift. "From the sound of it, you're on to something. The chances that these kids, all nine of them, happen to be mutants, and happen to suffer from mental illness, and just happen to be sent to the same mental institution, that just happens to be out of state. . ." Superman pauses, "Well, the chances are just about zero."

He looks to Shift with a raised eyebrow. "You want help on this, or are you hoping to be discreet?"

Superman isn't really all that discreet.

"Yeah, de lines ah pretty clear once you start looking, aren't dey?" Shift accepts the StarkPad, walks back over to the desk and places it where it once was. "I've got investigators digging for everything dey legally can," he offers, then shakes his head in a declining fashion. "No. No help. Not yet. Got to find out exactly what's going on behind closed doors, if anything. But if I can't get some government agency to sign on board -- and I'm wondering if I can, given dat some of dese cases have gone as high as State level supreme court -- well."

He pauses for a long moment, looking Superman in the eyes, wondering how far he can trust the well-known hero.

"I may have to take de investigation into my own hands. Discreetly."

Superman nods his head, understanding completely. "Well, if you need any help with anything, let me know. I know that I might cause a scene no matter where I go, but there's a hacker in Gotham who can get you anything you need, and most anything you need to know. Video camera feeds, emails...anything. If you need it, just ask."

Shift nods his head, grateful for Superman's willingness to help. "Please. One of de victims lived in Gotham. Just trying to connect all of de dots, figure out what approach needs to be taken."

He's about to walk back toward the door, set on opening it so that Superman can fly the hell out of here. But halfway there, he stops. He turns about, studying the costumed Kryptonian with a speculative eye. "You made a big difference in Istanbul. I don't know if we'd have gotten out of dere alive, much less saved what we could. I am sorry if my approach came off as a bit undahhanded. But I was dere. I know what it's like to lose family. You can call on me any time."

And then he smirks ruefully, adding, "I make one hell of a wrecking ball."

Superman nods, "I'll contact 'him' right away." In truth, Superman has no idea that the Oracle is a female. No one does, really. "I appreciate it. You were pretty important in Istanbul. And thank you for your help in Metropolis, and for my coming to see how my mom's doing. I appreciate it." Superman walks towards the door and gives Shift a final nod.

"Don't mention it."

Beat.

"I'll try to keep from using the Lord's name in vain."

With a rueful smirk, Shift opens the door and bids the man farewell with a stiff nod of his head.