This is the Popcorn Stand

Aug 26, 2014: Bobby Drake provides security for the Burning Human '14 event. Laura Kinney searches for Piotr Rasputin for mysterious reasons.

Burning Human Festival, Mutant Town

The crappy section of New York populated almost entirely by mutants. Currently festooned for celebrations.



  • Girl at the Popcorn Stand

Mood Music:

What happens when you compress a bunch of society's impoverished outcasts into a tiny, decrepit section of the city? Usually nothing good. What happens when those impoverished outcasts all have some form of superpower? Still nothing good.

But for a few days out of the year, the people of Mutant Town join together to drown all of their sorrows in drink, drugs, and unnecessarily loud music. The best entertainment available has shown up for a display of mutant solidarity, and since most of the bands have mutant members, the concerts are spectacles unlike anything else available anywhere. Too bad the humans can't see what they're missing.

Large sections of Mutant Town have been turned into a concert venue. This mostly means that the majority of Mutant Town looks like a ramshackle gypsy camp, but with more body piercing and scales. People wander down the streets, spouting the lyrics to songs that they just heard played a few hours ago, while on one of the many half-assed stages (located conveniently in the town's version of a 'park') the roadies of a new band are doing mic checks.

Piotr is not a roadie. He's certainly not in a band. And all of his favorite songs are from the 80's. However, here he is, doing his part to further the cause of mutant solidarity by getting as drunk as he possibly can in public. However, he's finding it difficult to procure enough vodka with the lines for the concessions as long as they are. But now it's his turn again, and he half speaks/half shouts his order at the chick working behind the counter. "More vodka! No ice!"

"Sweetie, I already told you, this is the popcorn stand. If you want liquor, you've got to go about three hundred feet that way." She points.

"This is boolsheet."

Mutant Town.

Laura Kinney enjoyed this place. Having been forced to flee California due to Kimura's influence, this place was the place she had ended up. It was a good place to disappear, a good place to hide, and over time, she had become known, perhaps, as a protector of sorts. Those that robbed, exploited, or otherwise bothered the residents of this town, she tended to have words with.

So one might imagine how much anxiety this festival had given her.

Perhaps the Brotherhood had always been here - she did not notice them until she had encountered one Magneto, who had given her the name of one Piotr Rasputin. Just a name.

And whatever trail of breadcrumbs she was able to scavenge had brought her here. Laura - dressed in a high-collared black leather jacket, her long hair dangling over said collar, sharp green eyes staring out at the world, was dressed dangerously. Leather pants, military boots - a simple white wifebeater beneath the jacket.

Laura's step dislodges a fallen beer can, the empty thing pinging off some stones, the sound of it echoing off of the walls a touch. Laura flicks her eyes up towards the stage, lips pursing where they hid behind the collar.

Laura Kinney spies the drunk man at the popcorn stand, lifting up her chin. Russian accent. Wasn't sure if that was him, or…

Laura steps forward, debris crunching beneath her feet as she approaches Piotr. "I'm looking for Piotr Rasputin," she states, her tone of voice low - a bit direct. "…where is he?" The earrings she wore - fashioned into the shape of a cross - catch the light, reflecting it off of their silver.

Bobby Drake is, as are most of his compatriots, helping to provide security for the Festival. Mostly this has involved breakig up drunken fights and helping dehydrated party-goers get the medical attention they will very much appreciate in the morning. He's wearing sneakers, blue jeans and a black 'security' tee shirt. He's not particularly looking for anything. Just watching the crowd. That's when he spots Laura, also known as the odd, angry young woman he ran into elsewhere in the city a while back.

Huh. May want to keep an eye on this. He starts to approach, hands in his pockets.

"Come on…. surely you have maybe beer or schnapps or those little things with the… chto?" Piotr is only in the 'friendly' stage of drunkenness, but he's still inebriated enough to not have full control of his reactions. Which is why he turns around just a bit too fast when he hears his real name used, and why his attempts to look casual after the fact come across as anything but.

"Sorry. I don't know this man. Actually, I heard him say this concert was lame because there is no vodka so he went home. But I don't know where he lives."

"I mean… never heard of him."

Laura Kinney cants her head a little bit to the side, expression unreadable - perhaps, as she stares at the (frankly) much taller man. One of the reasons, no doubt, that they went ahead with Laura as an assassin might be what they assumed would be a generally innocuous appearance - a young woman rarely registered in the danger zone of many. Laura wore danger like a cloak, however. Perhaps especially now.

A pause then, the corners of her eyes narrowing. This place was a menagerie of scents and sounds, so for now - Bobby's approach was cloaked.

Laura pulls a hand, covered in a fingerless glove, out of her jacket pocket. "A friend asked me to find him, to…" she pauses a handful of moments. "…learn more about Mutant Town," she says, head still canted to the side like an owl.

Bobby's close enough now that he doesn't have to raise his voice. "Hey. Glad to see you made it down to the festival." Part of the ice nerd wonders if Laura will remember him. She'd been acting odd, like, possibly on something odd. The large man gets a nod. He's clearly a little drunk but, hey, a lot of people here are. He's not causing any problems so he's good right now.

Except… well, what isi t with Bobby and these things? He seems to have come in on an awkward conversation.

"Oh, well you don't need to meet some mystery man to learn about Mutant Town. Just look around. Is awesome. Is drinking and dancing and… please tell me that group of people is dancing." Piotr turns his head away quickly from a group of especially non-human-looking gelatinous mutants who are, we all hope, dancing.

"Ah, but here is your boyfriend. Is time for you to go, yes? Go away, listen to music, complain that Dazzler will not be here this year. I will be about three hundred feet that way." He points.

Laura flicks her eyes from Bobby's features to his shirt. 'Security', it said. And the corner of her lip lifts up in a mild grin. That was the closest thing to a smile that had been seen on Laura's lips - and perhaps would ever be seen on her lips. It was fleeting. Expression draws back down to something akin to seriousness.

"I live here," she says, her tone of voice a bit on the grim side. "Why wouldn't I be here?"

Laura's eyes flicker back towards Piotr, following his motion to the… dancers. Laura elects not to comment, instead flickering her eyes back towards Piotr. "You know something more about…" Laura flicks her eyes towards Bobby. "… what I need to know. If I buy you a drink, might you say more about it?"

The air around Bobby is a bit chill but nothing that mightn't be passed off as a sudden breeze. No one's doing anything wrong so he'll just leave them alone, really. He does plan on watching though. From a fairly discreet distance. "Well, I hope you enjoy it, miss. Nice to see you again." With that he turns and blends back into the crowd. He'll look for a good place to watch them but for now just keeping track of wher they are will work.

The roadies leave the stage, which makes the crowd fall suddenly silent in anticipation. Of course, they're still playing some recorded music over the loudspeakers, but the end of equipment check signals the inevitable appearance of whatever band they're all ostensibly here to see.

Piotr does his best to not suspicious, but he certainly goes a bit over board acting nonchalant when a member of the security detail inexplicably approaches him. This girl might be more of a trouble magnet than he needs right now. After all, he's supposed to be laying low. Of course, if he really wanted to lay low he probably wouldn't be walking around in tight-fitting sleeveless t-shirts like an extra from a Spring Break movie. Nor would he be wearing a gallon of gel in his hair. But alas, he's doing both.

"No promise. But is very likely that I will say more about many things if you buy me enough drinks." Well, he's honest. At least, he's honest for someone who's a fugitive from justice. The Russian-ness of his voice is unmistakeable, and his grammar could use a bit of sprucing up. But he appears to be of a mind to accept her offer. "I am warning you very seriously though, I need you to be very clear on this…"

"… it doesn't matter how much I drink, I will not dance."

Laura Kinney recalled how her last meeting with Bobby had gone. Pursing her lips tighter, she brings her hand up to that high collar of her coat, unsnapping it and folding her collar lapels down to reveal her face more fully. The back still stayed popped up a bit, hidden beneath the shroud of her hair.

But it was still uneven.

"Perhaps I will," says Laura. While she did speak Russian, if Bobby - or Security as a whole - were still around, that might make it even more suspicious to do so. So she elects to remain in English for now.

The last thing he says? Laura just kinda gives him a long look, her eyes drifting from him back to the gelationous pair, before her eyes return again.

"No problem," she says, starting to move forward through the crowd, her attention about 300 feet in /that/ direction. Over there. "Are you a friend of his, then?" she asks, idle conversation as she moves.
Bobby has gotten good at blending into the crowd. He's not a pro or anything but if people are distracted he's got pretty good odds of remaining unseen and unnoticed. Which is what he tries to do, circling around to another area that people tend to congregate, one where he can himself loiter and casually watch and listen. Just security, nothing to see here.

"I'm serious." He certainly appears to wish to stick by his stance on social rhythmic movements. But whether he's generally against dancing or whether his stomach just hasn't gotten over the gelatinous group yet is uncertain.

"Sure. We can say I'm a friend. In fact I… no." Sure, Bobby isn't telegraphing his presence, but Piotr hasn't managed to evade the world's intelligence community for nearly a decade by taking stupid chances. His alarms have already gone off, and like the spooked quarry he is, he looks around nervously.

"This place isn't safe for talking. Meet me tomorrow at 7 PM, Metropolis Library. Come alone, and wear a pair of those glasses with the horns on the rim. If you're not there on time, if you're not alone, if you aren't wearing a pair of those glasses with the horns on the rim, then I vanish and there will never be another conversation."

"If you vanish…"

Laura begins, her tone of voice low. "…I will find you," she adds. A huntress she might be, but she had rarely had gone up against the mysterious criminal element of the world. "…but I will meet you then, wearing these glasses," says Laura, kinda glancing back out to the crowd… and starting to step away from him, pushing into the gathering bunch.

Metropolis mmm? Bobby slips away, uncertain if he'll share this information quite yet. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it's been quite a friend to the ice nerd thus far. How it ends up?

Guess he'll find out.

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