fateandfortune | Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

Entry tags:

character: caine (skyjacking)

Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

She couldn't catch a break. That was the thought running through Rogue's mind as she waited in the rain at the meeting point, across the street from a random restaurant in a not quite seedy but not rich part of the city she'd dropped into and been trying to make a life in before things had gone south. She'd been on the planet for all of two months before she'd somehow managed to catch the eye of the wrong person. The type of person to run a genetic scan and take a keen interest in the anomalies found - an Earth human, a tersie, but different. Unique.

Rare. That had been the word the dealer had used when he'd been trying to restrain and drug her. She'd fetch a pretty penny on the black market, where certain noble houses went to find additions to their collections.

Rogue hadn't meant to kill him, but she almost had. The bastard hadn't wanted to let go, so she'd turned on her power and held on until she'd been able to pry his fingers away. It had been long enough to leave him in a coma, and if she was lucky he wouldn't wake up until she was on the other side of the universe.

Absorbing him had given her one hell of a headache, but it had also given her enough information to follow the channels to hire someone to help her. Rogue wasn't a helpless little girl anymore, but she was out of her element when it came to space and navigating beyond the planets she knew, so a bodyguard to get her from point A to point B was necessary. It had taken a lot of greased palms, but she'd finally gotten a message into the right hands and now here she was. Waiting. Hoping this would work and she could just find somewhere to live her life and not have people constantly trying to put her in a cell or a lab.

Was that really so much to ask?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A job was a job. He kept telling himself that constantly. It helped him keep his focus, helped keep his center aligned. And any job that kept him beneath the radar of all the Great Houses was a much appreciated. And although Caine didn't really like Stinger sticking his neck out for him--his former commander, now back in the Aegis, tossed many bones Caine's way these days--he knew the old man was going to keep tabs on him, regardless. Still, the lycantant supposed it was good to have at least one friend in the universe.

This new job was supposed to be a cakewalk. A little bout of escort duty: ensure the client made it to the destination in one piece, no questions asked. Stinger had assured him that everything was legit and aboveboard--just a lost Tersie wanting to planet-hop around the star system. But not to Earth; Caine had made that adamantly clear. There was no way in all the hells he was going to go within ten parsecs of any planet on the Abrasax payroll. He'd had more than enough of Balem and Titus Abrasax to last him a thousand lifetimes.

Caine turned the corner, heading for the scheduled meeting location, eyes, ears and nose automatically cataloging everything. It was more than taught, it was instinct, the natural inclination for a wolf-Spliced being. Ah, there. He spied his contact across the street, not looking that out of place, really. If not for the white streak in her hair, Caine wouldn't have given her a second look. He turned up the collar of his long coat against the drizzling rain, crossed the street a few yards down, and made his way unobtrusively towards the package.

He paused behind her, close enough to be heard but far away enough to allow passersby between, looking not at her but at everything else around them, one hand resting on the holstered gun beneath his coat.

"I'm your transport. Are you ready?"

Rogue had spotted the man from the corner of her eye, had watched him cross the street and waited longer still, the seconds passing like hours. It wasn't until he spoke that she relaxed the grip on the satchel-style bag she carried and managed to draw in a full breath. He was the one she was hiring. Good. That was good. For a second there, she'd thought... Well, it didn't matter. She could finally get off this damned planet.

"You have no idea," she murmured in her smooth southern drawl, turning her head slightly to the side; not enough to see him where he was, but enough to watch when he moved. "Yes, I'm ready," she clarified, reaching up to tuck her hair back behind her ears with bare hands, the rain already trying to plaster it to her face.

She pulled up the hood of her coat, a dark green like she'd had so many years ago, but styled after the middle-class fashion of this planet, which meant a few more frills than she would have liked. It helped her blend in though, and that had been important, but in the end it hadn't helped her avoid that cretin. Still, the hood was deep enough to cover her trademark white streak, which would be a dead giveaway if anyone else were looking for her.

He'd booked off-planet passage on a commercial freighter; third-class at most, well beneath the notice of any aristocracy. Not quite as prone to piracy as second- and first-class ships, but every now and then one of the lumbering ships was boarded and looted, mostly likely for slaves and salvage, as the passengers aboard seldom possessed anything of value.

"Let's go." Terse and to the point. Caine seldom wasted words. He waited until she stepped off in front of him, noting a suspicious shadow across the street, but followed her on. He sensed no one following, which of course didn't mean no one was. Caine remained a step behind and to the right of his charge, near enough to shield if necessary. His obligation was to deliver her to her destination alive, after all.

Thankfully the shuttleport wasn't far, and their ID's cleared without incident. Caine led the way to their berth, where boarding would commence shortly. "A frigate," he explained, gesturing through the wide window at the ship. "Retrofitted to carry passengers. Semi-decent accommodations, but it beats walking."

It was like a weight was lifted from her chest when her ID went through without any problems. She'd had to purchase it the day before, not wanting to use what her would-be kidnapper, Geere, had on file, and while she'd spent quite a bit of money on it and the silence of the forger, she had no illusion that it would be enough to keep her safe. When they got where they were going, she'd be going through the motion again, as many times as needed for her to finally feel safe. If that was even possible anymore.

"I've been in worse places," she commented, keeping her voice low as she continued to tightly hold her bag while watching the people around them. She'd been sifting through the memories she'd gotten from Geere, trying to catalogue his associates so she'd know if one was near, but it was proving more difficult than she'd though. "Don't worry, I'm not the type to complain."

She didn't mind that her new companion wasn't the chatty sort - it was kind of nice, actually. If he only said what was important, then it was easier to tell if he was lying to her. Experience had taught her that trusting someone could be dangerous, and until she knew more about this man, her trust would only extend as far as necessary.

[ ooc; just an fyi, i'll probably be mixing a little Mass Effect, Star Trek and Star Wars in from time to time; the JA universe isn't all that big, lol! ]

As long as she listened and didn't for-gods-sakes argue with him about anything, they'd get along just fine. It was one of his worst peeves; an overly demanding client who just had to voice an opinion about everything. In Caine's view, those sorts deserved whatever came their way, and he was self-interested enough to oftentimes get out of the path. He hadn't lived this long by being a whelp, after all.

"Name's Caine Wise," he told her shortly, indicating she should sit if she liked; they still had perhaps fifteen minutes until the boarding call. He took station near the row of seats, leaning deceptively nonchalant against one of the columns. "There's a short stopover at a station on Paravin, then a three day cruise to Espirion."

[ Awesome! We were only given hints at that wonderfully complex universe, so I'll roll with whatever you do. Just let me know if I write something that doesn't quite mesh with your verse. ]

Rogue had no plans to argue with him about anything unless he did something she knew would only make things worse. She may have picked up some useful information by absorbing a bit of this or that person during time on the planet, but it wasn't enough for her to be any sort of expert on this universe, which was nothing like the one she'd come from. The alien empires had been quite different where she'd come from, and as far as she'd been able to tell, the Shi'ar and Kree didn't even exist here.

She nodded at his words and took a seat, pulling her bag into her lap and fidgeting with it, her fingertips tracing over the seams and clasps. Being able to walk around without her gloves was still a new experience, thanks to the tentative control she'd found in this dimension, and she couldn't seem to stop touching things every chance she got.

"You can call me Rogue," she offered, glancing over and finally taking the time to notice the features of his face. She didn't give him the name on her current ID, Anna Raven, because it wasn't something she would quickly respond to - if something happened and he used it to get her attention, they would both need it to be something that triggered an actual reaction. Years of fighting in the war had taught her to always keep strategy and preparedness in mind, and she wasn't about to deviate from that when it was her continued freedom on the line.

[ and likewise! also, feel free to toss in whatever, i can usually roll with everything. ]

Caine nodded at the introduction. Odd moniker, but it was none of his business. He was getting paid to make sure she reached Espirion alive, nothing more. And hopefully he'd sniff out a new job on that planet--it was nicely populated, big cities, big industry; there was sure to be something available for someone of his particular talents.

Also, before he forgot about it... "Do you get portal-sickness?" He had meds, if so. Thankfully, he never suffered from the stomach-clenching reaction to FTL travel, but some humans were sensitive and often spent entire voyages vomiting up their toenails...and worse. "Frigates aren't exactly known for their smooth rides when making FTL jumps."

"I honestly don't know," she admitted, hating that she would have to lie with her next words but not having a choice in the matter. "I haven't traveled much in space, and the last time... I wasn't conscious for it." Lies were difficult to keep track of, so she tried to avoid them at all costs, and what ones she did spin were kept as close to the truth as possible. "But I don't think I'll have a problem. I used to be a pilot, and I never had trouble then."

Her stomach was strong, it was her head that was weak. There was no telling if this style of travel would spark one of her migraines or set off a reaction in her collection of psyches. She sure hoped it wouldn't come to that, because the very last thing she needed was to be in that position around someone she didn't know.

Caine's eyebrow went up at the admission. What was a pilot doing skirting the universe on the down low? Well, he privately admitted, the military hadn't done much for him, now had it? And everyone had their demons from which to flee, he also knew that better than most.

"If you do start to feel queasy," he replied, "let me know immediately. I always carry a few meds to handle that, especially with paying customers."

The pre-boarding klaxon sounded then, and Caine's ears pricked. "That's us," he said, straightening from his lean. "We'd better go ahead and get in line, they'll want to check our boarding passes and scan us." There was a standard list of approved carry-ons, but each pilot had the right to refuse anyone if they posed an obvious threat.

Caine carried permits for his weaponry--Stinger's help with that had been a blessed relief--but all luggage was waved over before actually boarding the ship. Thankfully, he traveled light; all he required could be stowed away in his pockets, leaving his hands free.

If Rogue could have gotten her own small ship and flown herself off the planet, she would have in a heartbeat, but there was just too much risk involved. Working with such advanced technology when she hadn't been trained in it could be done on a short-term basis by absorbing the skill from someone who did have the experience, but there was no guarantee that she would be able to keep hold of fit for long enough to actually get anywhere. Being stranded in space on a ship she couldn't fly? Not high on her list of things to do.

She stood when he straightened up, choosing not to say anything as she started for the line, nerves beginning to really set in. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that something was going to wrong, that she'd end up stuck here and wind up in the hands she was running from. It was irrational, more than likely, but it was a feeling she just couldn't shake.

Luckily, she didn't have anything on her that should raise alarm. A few articles of clothing, including a pair of gloves, and a bottle of legal high-grade medication for her headaches. There had been an assortment of things in the place she'd called 'home' for the last two months that she could have brought with her, but all of it was replaceable, and when on the run it was best to keep luggage to a minimum. As it was, if she lost her bag she'd still manage to do just fine without its contents. She'd be a little worse for wear, but she'd manage.

Sandwiched between jabbering Pydyrians and a family of ratlike Jenets wasn't exactly the best place to be, but Caine ground his teeth and endured it, only showing his lack of patience once, when one of the Pydyrians flailed a long spindly arm and nearly smacked him in the nose. The tall ungainly creature chittered at him and Caine responded with a flat, unfriendly stare and a low growled snarl, lip lifting and exposing the gleam of long canines. The Pydrian chittered more rapidly and crowded against its compatriot, and the line advanced without further incident.

He fully expected them to be stopped at ship security, but surprisingly they were waved through and free to board find their assigned berth. Space was limited; he'd served on cruisers with more room. Their section sported a small porthole, at least. Something to perhaps break the monotony of a two-day cruise. Beds bunked, Caine stepped aside to let his client in, saying, "Top or bottom, take your pick."

If she hadn't spent almost half of her life around mutants of all shapes, colors, and sizes, Rogue probably would have been looking at the variety of aliens with idiotic awe and fear, even after her time among them. Instead, she was proud to say that she'd adapted quite well to having to deal with the alien species found in this part of the galaxy.

Stepping into the room, Rogue eyed the beds and seriously considered her options. The top bunk seemed a bit more open despite being close to the ceiling, but the bottom would offer her a quick escape if she had an episode, one that didn't involved falling five feet to the floor. Bottom it was, then. "Thank you for letting me choose," she told him as she set her bag down on the bed and finally slid back the hood of her jacket. "You didn't have to, so I really do appreciate it."

"You're welcome." It was more of a grunt than words, as Caine was busy checking the place for spyware, hidden grenades, any other espionage equipment that might be inconvenient later. He didn't think there'd be anything to find, but the minute he stopped looking... Well, that was usually how it went, right?

Security sweep over, all mental boxes checked off his list, he finally chuffed a short breath and allowed some of the tension in his shoulders to ease. He didn't bother divesting his coat--they'd no doubt be moving about above decks in a bit and he didn't particularly plan on advertising the hardware strapped here and there.

Now that they were safely on board and had some time, he paused long enough to look directly at his client. "So," he started in a firm tone, one that hinted he wasn't planning to put up with any bullshit, "anything I should know beforehand?" Anyone looking for or chasing her, any issues he'd have to deal with along the way, any general weirdness other than a simple hop between planets.

Because it was never that damned easy. Never.

Rogue hadn't even thought to check the room like he had, that sort of task so removed from what she'd had to deal with during her time with the X-Men and while fighting in the war. When there were mutants who could make themselves invisible or walk through walls, there wasn't much call for the sort of equipment used in espionage. And in the end, the government had been more interested in killing mutants than spying on them.

The tone was one she recognized - it reminded her a lot of Logan, actually. No-nonsense, straight to the point, and expecting answers. It was good she'd already planned on giving them to him.

"I'm running from a man named Geere," she answered without any preamble. "My genetic code is different enough to apparently be of value to the crazy entitleds in the area, so his plan was to sell me to the highest bidder. I didn't much like that idea, so here we are." If he wanted details, he'd have to ask for them specifically, but in the meantime she watched him carefully, looking for anything that might help her understand the man in front of her and what he thought of all this.

It was actually not so surprising. The Entitled played the genetics game like no other, and anyone, other than Splices, sporting odd or unusual genetics were fair game, in the view of the aristocracy. The name wasn't familiar, but the type was. Caine had run afoul of a few before. Brokers, they liked to think of themselves. Selling commodities for the highest price. Vermin, in his opinion.

He leaned against the bulkhead and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "You're not a Splice," he observed. "So you must carry some sort of natural mutation if you were targeted." A bit of curiosity leaked through his stoic expression. "Is it a visible problem?" He'd rather know now sooner than later. She bore no outward signs of such, at least nothing overt. He wasn't invasive enough to demand she tell him exactly, but he did need to know if it was something he was going to have to deal with.

Seeing the hesitation flitting over her face, Caine added, somewhat reluctantly, "...you can trust me. I'm paid to get you to Espirion alive, and that's what I'll do." He respected that she didn't, but he had to make the offer. "I don't recognize the name, but I know the type. I don't think we were followed aboard, but there's no way to be absolutely sure. But if I'm going to protect you, I need to know as much as you'll tell me."

That hint of curiosity in his expression was actually kind of nice to see, in an odd way. Not because she wanted the excuse to tell him her whole life story, but because it made him a bit more personable, someone she felt like she might be able to trust. It also helped her accept his assurances when they were offered.

"It's not a physical mutation, it's an ability that I can mostly control," she explained cautiously. "He didn't tell anyone else about me, I know that for a fact. He was worried that if he did, someone else would get to me first. There weren't any buyers lined up yet, either, because he wanted to have something to show them to get the price up higher."

She took a deep breath and looked away from him uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself for what little comfort the action might provide. "My mutation manifests itself in my skin," she divulged, because why not just jump into the deep end to start with. "If I get scared or upset, anything really emotional... You shouldn't touch my skin."

That was somewhat different. In a universe where genetics were the playtoys of the upper-class, something new and unique tended to be coveted above all else. Nevertheless, it was relieving to know that this shitbag hadn't had time to alert anyone else on the market; Caine felt the customary target riding forever between his shoulder blades shrink, just a little.

"...that's something, anyway," he muttered quietly. Her admission sparked a little bit more of curiosity's fire, prompting him to ask, "Will gloves help?" He tended to wear them anyway, for better grip, as well as to conceal the longer-than-normal "claws" on the ends of his fingers. "If you get scared...do you change color, or something?"

Less than polite, but damnit. He needed to know these things. If he wasn't able to get a grip on her when the situation required, this job was going to jump about six levels of difficulty.

It didn't matter that he wasn't polite, she understood why he was asking and knew she was being stupid for not just telling him outright. And it wasn't fair to involve him in this unless he had all the cards laid out, even if she was paying him. They were going to spend close to a week in close quarters, he deserved to know what he was dealing with. What she was capable of.

"I wish I just changed color," she commented in an almost despondent tone. "I can control my ability for the most part, like I said, but I didn't used to be able to. For a decade, I had to keep myself covered all the time, to make sure I didn't hurt anyone. Because when people touch my skin with theirs, I absorb their life force into myself, even to the point of death."

It came out so easily, yet there was a panic rising in her chest. "It's mostly just a defensive measure now, after I started being able to control it a few months back. It's not always stable though, so I do have gloves with me, and I'll wear them all the time if you'd prefer." She turned her attention back to him fully as she continued, straightening her spine as standing as tall and brave as she could. "Or you can leave now, while there's still time for you to get off the ship, and I'll get to Espirion by myself. You can even keep the payment for your discretion."

In response, Caine lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers in their leather casings. "I meant, for me. I tend to wear them pretty regularly." No identifying marks left to excite overly-nosy authorities, which sometimes came in handy--no pun intended, he thought with a wry snort.

As for the rest... "As long as you follow my lead, don't pick any fights, and keep a low profile, we shouldn't have a problem." Caine recrossed his arms again. "I don't make a habit of backing out on a job. Doesn't do much for the resume."

Helluva mutation to be saddled with, to be sure, but she'd said she could keep it under control, and as long as they were in agreement on these few things, he had no reason not to make good on his word. He supposed it was a "pack" thing--a bit on the low side, his loyalty could be bought, as such, but shit, a lone lycantant had to make a living somehow, right?

Oh. For him. It hadn't even occurred to her, everyone had always expected her to be the one to take all the precautions, and it had only ever been Remy who'd made the effort to offer her a reprieve from her fabric prison. Caine couldn't possibly know how much it meant to her now that he wasn't insisting she wear her gloves and stay covered at all times, and there was no way she'd be able to properly explain it to him.

Still. "Thank you, on all counts," she said, visibly relaxing as she let her hands fall to her sides. "I don't plan on making things difficult for you. All I want is to get someplace where I can live my life in peace, and I'll do whatever's necessary for that to happen."

She took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of the lower bed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "I should probably also mention that I don't sleep well. Nightmares. Usually it's not that bad, but sometimes... Well, I'm sorry in advance if I disturb you."

[ ...and this is the first time I've been able to sit down to a keyboard all week, omg. but i have the weekend off, YAY, and the nasty weather should help alleviate some outside chores, so hopefully i'll be able to tag some the next few days! also, feel free to toss in some 'bad guys', 'adventures', whatever idek :> ]

Try as he might, Caine couldn't entirely squealch the twinge of sympathy her admission piqued. He understood the mindset, probably more than most. He knew exactly how it was to simply want to be left alone, and how precious--and rare--achieving such a state actually was. Thus his responding nod wasn't as quite as cool as his previous replies had been.

"...you're welcome." He stepped over and tossed his small duffel on the top bunk. "Don't worry about disturbing me. I don't sleep all that well, either." He never had, really. Minute vibrations in the floor then told him the ship was cycling up and preparing to pull out of the harbor.

"You want to head up and watch the launch? Beats sitting here staring at the walls, anyway." They'd have enough time to do that in the following days.

[I'm sorry life has kept you so crazy busy, but hopefully you'll get some nice relaxing time this weekend! And will do. :D ]

Well, that was one thing to be relieved about. Back when she'd been a student at the mansion, they'd ended up having to give her a single room before she'd even graduated because she kept waking up the other girls she'd shared with - and they'd all been scared of her after the incident with Logan, of course. Knowing that she wouldn't be the sole cause of his losing sleep was actually kind of comforting, in a weird way.

"Yeah, okay, let's do it," she answered with a nod and a smile, standing and smoothing her hands down her coat. He was right, it would be better than just sitting around, they'd have a few days of staring at the wall and each other, so might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

[ gah, it never goes how i want it to, damnit! but, am here this evening, thankfully! ]

Caine led the way, heading back to the upper deck. He cut through the maze of passengers with relative ease; being a head taller than most did help. Gave him a comfortable vantage point, anyway. The viewing ports were nicely large on this deck of the ship, retrofitted as it was for relative passenger comfort. He took station at one just as the horn sounded, signalling the ship was ready to move away from its dock and off into space.

The lights of the station below them twinkled merrily, as if wishing them good voyage, and Caine couldn't suppress a half-grin. He'd always loved to travel through space; he'd seen some strange places during his stint with the Legion. The military did have a bit better ships, though; the acceleration in this beast was anything but subtle, as the pilot braked a bit too roughly and sent a nice jolt shimmying through the entire ship.

The lycantant shook his head with a sardonic snort, refraining only barely from rolling his eyes. "Ham handed pilot, that one," he muttered.

[Okay, work finally stopped eating me alive after a conference across country with 12-hour days. I should be able to tag regularly again, if you're still interested in this thing.]

It was nice to have someone to follow through the crowd, rather than having to fight through everyone on her own steam. This made things a little easier, and certainly faster, and they view they were rewarded with was pretty great. Rogue had always loved flying, especially in the Blackbird back in the day, but this was an entirely new experience that she was actually really looking forward to, despite the circumstances.

Her eyes widened a bit at the jolt that resulted in the rough handling and shot Caine a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. "You're sure this thing's safe?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone. She knew that they wouldn't be there if it wasn't - the job was to get her to her destination safely, after all.

[ welcome back! for both of us, apparently. :D i'm always up for picking threads back up, and will backtag into oblivion, no worries! ]

He shrugged a shoulder, gazing absently out of the window port. "More than likely." A small snort. "They'd never be able to afford the insurance if it weren't." But being a third and lower class vessel, the merchant companies tended to hire any pilots who'd work for the pittance offered, and he said as much as the ship continued to lumber out away from the docking bay.

A gaggle of other passengers were beginning to fill the upper deck, and Caine's attention turned from the view to the crowd, automatically scanning for possible threats. Habit, that one. His crossed arms and nonchalant slounge against the bulkhead may have suggested casual indifference, but the fingers of his right hand tickled the butt of one pistol riding nicely against his ribcage, the left hand rested snugly against the hilt of a heavy dagger along the opposite side.

Yet he sensed little out of the ordinary, which did nothing to relax his guard however; the lycantant simply kept his gaze flicking from the crowd to the window port, as he'd always enjoyed the chill blackness of space. Quiet, solitary and familiar, that. He gave a nod towards the void beyond the plexiglass.

"We'll probably make the jump in fifteen minutes or so, as soon as the ship's flight path is given the all-clear." Caine gestured to a window port across the bay, where twinkled the spaceport in a bevy of white, green and red lights. Ships of all shapes and sizes crowded its docks, the planet looming just behind, providing a bright canvas of artistry.

"Not a bad view, leaving it all behind."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Just a job. [For Caine Wise]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

adulting just...sucks, i swear. :(

it does, it really does!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject