2013-01-08 Assistance for Revenge

mythara.com:9977 - Tuesday, January 08, 2013, 8:17 PM

A jangle on the door leaves the last one exiting of Harry's Hideaway, save one. There's a bit of a lull, which is nice for the eardrums but bad for the bartenders. At the end of the bar, wearing a black turtleneck and jeans sits a man in sunglasses. People who know him around here know he's got an eye condition; he's not attempting to look cool. "Another round?" the tender asks to Scott Summers. "Sure, I'll have one more glass." The man nods and motions at the tab and the barkeep pours another glass of red wine. Idly he's checking his Stark-phone.

As if planned, the door doesn't stay closed for long. Only a few seconds after the last patron departs, another steps in. To say he's a big man is a bit of an understatement, but somehow he's managed to find clothing to fit his muscular frame. A ragged leather jacket and jeans, no glasses, no hat, but two faint bulges at his back. His eyes scan the bar, finding the man he's come to see sitting at the bar, requesting another drink. With a slight frown, he trudges over to him stopping a few feet away, one hand resting lightly on one of the bulges on his back.

"Scott."

The voice is not readily recognizable. Rather than turn his head right away, Scott finishes a sip if his drink. The head eventually comes, slowly and is followed by an equally slowly raising eyebrow. "James." After a pause. "Not in here. If you've got issues with me that need to be settled..." He shoots a glance at the bartender who's down at the other end, out of earshot. "We do it outside."

James looks to the side, watching the bartender as well for half a second, before he removes his hand and settles into a stool two spots away. "I'm not here for a fight, but I didn't know how you'd react." As the stool scrapes, the tender comes over, asking, "What'll it be?" James looks down to Scott and his drink, and nods his way, answering, "Same as him."

The giant of a man waits for his drink to come, and the bartender to depart again, before he looks back to Scott, grunting, "I need help."

The bartender nods and returns later with a vintage bottle of cabernet sauvignon. The large man makes his comment and Scott nods to the bartender. "Put it on mine, please."

Scott turns to look at James, "Lot of things I'd expect to hear from you. That wasn't one of them. What's going on?"

James grimaces faintly, as if asking for the help left a bad taste in his mouth, but he continues on anyway, "My family. My entire tribe... They were wiped out. Every single, god damned, one of them. My home is in ruins, and I have no place to go, except to hunt down the ones responsible and mount their heads on spikes." He's surprisingly unemotional as he explains, except for the displeasure in having to ask his one time foe for aid. "Help me find them, and I'll help you in... whatever it is you're doing."

Scott inhales and moves his glass around the bartop. "The man I work for is not going to like your intentions of revenge." Scott looks to him, "He'll try to talk you out of it."

"He'll fail," is James' only reply, tipping back a swig of whatever he was brought, apparently unconcerned with what it is. "He can talk. I'll listen, but ultimately, he'll fail. There was a difference between what happened to my brother," he shoots a look to Scott, "And what happened to my tribe. He willinging went into danger. They were slaughtered."

Scott nods, "I'm very sorry to hear that, James. It must be...very hard...I know we've had our difficulties in the past but I certainly wouldn't wish that on you, or anyone. I'm certain we'll be interested in meeting with you. When and if we find your enemies...well perhaps we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"You can call me Warpath."

"We take in ..." Scott pauses and his head seems to look towards the bartender to ensure he's out of sight. "We take in people like us. You're no different. Your battle with your enemies is between you and the Professor. As to your part of the bargain, we could definitely use you."

"I know who you take in, Scott," James responds, looking to him. He waits a few moments, calming, then responds, "Then it's settled. I scratch your back, you scratch mine?" He takes another swig of his drink, finally looking to it with mild disgust, "Christ... What are you drinking?"

Scott nods, "It's a deal. Unless I get overruled. But as I said, that's not my business." He looks with a mild grin at his glass, "It's wine, James. What would you have preferred?"

"Not wine," James replies, pushing the glass towards Scott and standing. "I'll be there at noon tomorrow. Make sure no one tries to attack me on the way in, I'd hate to have to start my time there with bloodshed."

"It won't be a problem," Scott says with a shake of the head and another swig from his drink. Mentally, he makes a note to research what happened to Proudstar. The situation with his brother is difficult for many reasons. Not the least of which has led to the bad blood between them. But if James is willing to bury the bad blood, Scott seems to be ready to. "Noon tomorrow."

James nods to Scott, already planning his next trip, which happens to be to investigate a few contacts he developed a few years ago. Maybe one of them knows something. "Good," with that, and a nod, he turns, leaving and shifting his jacket slightly which brings the dual knives, large enough to be small swords, into view, before they disappear once again beneath the leather. Yeah, he came armed.

Scott nods to James, "And James?" The question comes as James is making his way from the bar. "I'm sorry for what happened. Both to your tribe, and to your brother." Scott adjusts his glasses momentarily--he came armed as well.

James pauses a moment, he doesn't turn around, but he does nod his head once to the side. It's the closest Scott is going to get to a thank you, and, within short order, James is out the door again.