Logan | Marvel 616 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
6goodreasons) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capencowl20202020-01-15 05:41 pm
6goodreasons) wrote in capencowl20202020-01-15 05:41 pm
give me back my broken night [open & closed prompts]
Who: Logan & various
When: During the event
Where: Throughout the city
What: The Wolverine goes underground & looks for old friends
1 - your servant here, he has been told - ota
the streets of the city - throughout the event
It’s not the first time Logan’s had to live undercover in a bustling city. Paris, Tokyo, Madripoor, they’re all the same. He never quite figured he’d have to do it in this city, though. But maybe it was just a matter of time.
He’s good at it. He’s been trained to do it, after all. Keeps his head down and his crimes, at least the ones that can be attributed to him, small, for the time being. For those who know how, he can be found in the darker and danker of the meta-approved areas, on the docks and the boatyards, in alleys and dive bars, lurking on the edges of conversations held around oil drums with fires nestled in their bellies and desperate men and women warming their hands, keeping his ear to the ground and his eye on the helicopters performing routine sweeps overhead.
With the amount of Metas arriving every day increasing, the place feels like a powder keg. And Logan isn’t about to be caught unawares once it blows.
2 - to say it clear, to say it cold - ota
a meta dive bar - throughout the event
One of Logan’s first ports of call is his old bar. Or the place where his bar used to be. Part of him isn’t surprised to find out the Tool Shed didn’t survive the decade or so of change that has been pushed through the heart of the City like a knife between the ribs, but it still feels bitter to stand across the street and see it condemned, a shell of a building full of darkness and rats and a sign on the door suggesting those who enter will be taking their lives in their hands. ‘META SCUM’ is scrawled across the brickwork in fading red letters. For a while he thinks about going inside anyway, seeing how much of it is still the same place he dragged up and put together, but in the end he turns his back on it.
That’s the thing with ghosts. Sometimes they're just not worth the trouble.
Down the street there’s a place that’s still kicking at least, as long as you don’t mind a hidden door and a room that has the bitter bile smell of regret and cheap beer. Logan doesn’t mind. It makes him feel at home.
He sets down his empty glass, baring his teeth on the heels of the raw alcohol the place seems to think counts as booze, and gestures at the bartender to leave the bottle. The TV above the bar is playing footage of the parade on mute. Logan watches it with half an eye, keeping the rest on his liquor. Stuck drinking alone in the City. Some things never change.
3 - it's over, it ain't going any further - closed to thresher & selina(?)
The Lioness’ den - sometime after the 14th
He knows she’s here. Even if he didn’t keep catching her scent in certain high end places, fading but still there like the breath of a memory, the mutterings in the underground about a Lioness with a taste for the finer things couldn’t be anyone else. He grins when he hears them, proud of her, of what she’s made.
He gives it three days to work out how he wants to do it and to fight down the urge to let it go. Then he goes looking for her.
It’s not difficult for a man with his skills. Claws in some faces, money in others. It gets him where he wants to go. What he isn’t expecting is the last barrier, which turns out to be a tall drink of water with a nasty glint in his robotic eye and a smell lingering around him like burning wires. Logan takes one sniff and doesn’t like him. But he’ll give him a chance. He narrows his eyes under the brim of the flat cap he’s taken to wearing to hide his face.
“Like I said, bub, I need to see her.”
When: During the event
Where: Throughout the city
What: The Wolverine goes underground & looks for old friends
1 - your servant here, he has been told - ota
the streets of the city - throughout the event
It’s not the first time Logan’s had to live undercover in a bustling city. Paris, Tokyo, Madripoor, they’re all the same. He never quite figured he’d have to do it in this city, though. But maybe it was just a matter of time.
He’s good at it. He’s been trained to do it, after all. Keeps his head down and his crimes, at least the ones that can be attributed to him, small, for the time being. For those who know how, he can be found in the darker and danker of the meta-approved areas, on the docks and the boatyards, in alleys and dive bars, lurking on the edges of conversations held around oil drums with fires nestled in their bellies and desperate men and women warming their hands, keeping his ear to the ground and his eye on the helicopters performing routine sweeps overhead.
With the amount of Metas arriving every day increasing, the place feels like a powder keg. And Logan isn’t about to be caught unawares once it blows.
2 - to say it clear, to say it cold - ota
a meta dive bar - throughout the event
One of Logan’s first ports of call is his old bar. Or the place where his bar used to be. Part of him isn’t surprised to find out the Tool Shed didn’t survive the decade or so of change that has been pushed through the heart of the City like a knife between the ribs, but it still feels bitter to stand across the street and see it condemned, a shell of a building full of darkness and rats and a sign on the door suggesting those who enter will be taking their lives in their hands. ‘META SCUM’ is scrawled across the brickwork in fading red letters. For a while he thinks about going inside anyway, seeing how much of it is still the same place he dragged up and put together, but in the end he turns his back on it.
That’s the thing with ghosts. Sometimes they're just not worth the trouble.
Down the street there’s a place that’s still kicking at least, as long as you don’t mind a hidden door and a room that has the bitter bile smell of regret and cheap beer. Logan doesn’t mind. It makes him feel at home.
He sets down his empty glass, baring his teeth on the heels of the raw alcohol the place seems to think counts as booze, and gestures at the bartender to leave the bottle. The TV above the bar is playing footage of the parade on mute. Logan watches it with half an eye, keeping the rest on his liquor. Stuck drinking alone in the City. Some things never change.
3 - it's over, it ain't going any further - closed to thresher & selina(?)
The Lioness’ den - sometime after the 14th
He knows she’s here. Even if he didn’t keep catching her scent in certain high end places, fading but still there like the breath of a memory, the mutterings in the underground about a Lioness with a taste for the finer things couldn’t be anyone else. He grins when he hears them, proud of her, of what she’s made.
He gives it three days to work out how he wants to do it and to fight down the urge to let it go. Then he goes looking for her.
It’s not difficult for a man with his skills. Claws in some faces, money in others. It gets him where he wants to go. What he isn’t expecting is the last barrier, which turns out to be a tall drink of water with a nasty glint in his robotic eye and a smell lingering around him like burning wires. Logan takes one sniff and doesn’t like him. But he’ll give him a chance. He narrows his eyes under the brim of the flat cap he’s taken to wearing to hide his face.
“Like I said, bub, I need to see her.”