The Man Who Remembered

Players:

dax_icon.jpg jacob_icon.jpg

Summary: Dax discovers that his powers are not completely effective against Jacob.

Date: May 7, 2009

The Man Who Remembered

Rating: R


Trinity - Labyrinth

The city's more dangerous elements seem always supernaturally attracted to the club's notorious basement. Speed metal, punk, militant rap and other violent bands play this level, attracting a bewildering assortment of fans from the dregs of society. Gang members dressed to the hilt and bedecked in gold stand next to punks in torn shirts and leather pants while watching long-haired metal fans compare tattoos. When they feel they need privacy, they slip off into the darkness of the Labyrinth, a huge maze which runs along the outside of the basement. In its various nooks and crannies dealers hawk their wares, couples embrace in passion and dark figures conspire. A small bar sits to the right of the stage. Below the stage is a mosh pit that has been dug into the ground.

There are four entrances, though only two are available to the general public. The most commonly used entrance feds in from the parking lot. The less commonly used entrance comes from the heavily populated ground floor. There is another bar at the south western end of the Labyrinth with four pool tables. While the lack of exits makes the basement appear to be the worst sort of fire hazard, the fact that it is made of all brick and concrete, as well as the state-of-the-art sprinkler system means that fires could do little physical damage here.


The music, currently being provided by one of the DJs hired for the night - of which there tends to be a few sessions throughout - is more of an industrial goth flare. International hits from Asia, and Europe tend to dominate this session, with a track by Malice Mizer currently playing. There is little dancing in the small but filled lounge that accompanies the labyrinth. Pool is going on near the far bar, and the labyrinth is fogged out beyond sight. The crowd within seems utterly the sort to be here. Silver appendages and strange haircuts are abundant. And nary a polite englishman is in site…

But there are multiple sides to every person. Unfortunately with Jacob, those sides are as dichotomized as can possibly be - to the point that it would be considered schizophrenia if he wasn't completely aware of himself at all times. Aware of the duality. The daytime Jacob with his manners is nowhere to be seen. In the Labyrinth of Trinity they know him as Decker. The patch-leather pants and heeled booted wearing Cockney, complete with fingerless gloves and a patched jean jacket over his torn black t-shirt. On Americans the look is utterly feminine, but on a true Brit it's sheer punk. Currently he emerges from the Labyrinth, a look of smug disdain pursing his lips.

Though he generally preferred the subdued chaos of his own club, Dax occasionally ventures out to the other nightclubs in town. He likes to go out to other clubs and collect music ideas for his remixes, though this isn’t quite what he was looking for. Why does he ever even bother coming to the labyrinth? It’s never anything he can use. Dax shrugs and turns to head back upstairs, but as soon as he hears the Britney Spears they’re playing on the main level he turns back and descends back into the darkness. ANYTHING is better than that, so Dax will stay down here for a little while he supposes. He wanders over to the bar, looking slightly underdressed compared to the rest. He’s wearing a pair of tattered blue jeans with a black tank-top and his ever present eye-wear. Today it is a pair of black-framed rave goggles with mirrored lenses. He orders a vodka sprite and looks disapprovingly at the…girl? Next to him. Liberty Spikes were so twenty years ago.

Jacob tries to get the taste of his experience in the labyrinth out of his mouth by plucking a nearby drink from someone and downing it. The empty glass it placed countertop as he just continues walking towards the bar. He sits in the other stool that was just vacated, the one not taken by the eye-lined man. As the track ends, another comes in. This was was more european, something close to what Rammstein used to sound like. This causes Decker to stir atop his stool, and he mutters under his breath in a miserable British tone, "Swear to fuck if it weren' f'th'endless people here," and he stresses this next word, "/begging/ to be victimized, I'd never return." Such is the way Jacob operates, under these situations. He extends a verbal hook for a like mind, and if there was a taker, fine. If not, he'd take his rage out some other way.

Dax taps his fingers impatiently as the bartender gets him his drink. “What the hell is this crap?” He mutters as the next song starts up. He gazes to his left and rolls his eyes behind his goggles. Some poor guy who thinks he’s British is next to him singing along. What an awesome person. Dax bets he has lots of friends. The bartender comes back with his drink and passes it to him “Eight fifty.” Dax gives her a confused expression. “Eight? Eight fifty? For this.” He points to his drink and reaches for his goggles. “Ok, how about…” He lifts up his goggles and looks the bartender in the eye. She seems to zone out, during which time Dax replaces his goggles, takes his drink, and turns back to the crowd. After a few minutes the bartender seems to snap back into reality and just looks confused. She moves on to the next order.

Jacob, anxious to order his own drink after Dax, couldn't help but be privy to the discourse between the two of them. He looks down, first, closing his eyes in silent thanks for the gods who looked over his entertainment for the evening. He foregoes the drink, deciding to turn and face Dax face on. With tones loud enough to be heard over the music, but low enough to insinuate privacy, Jacob says, "These aren' the droids your lookin' for type shit, eh? Or is it jus' 'ypnosis? Can' be… y'didn' say nuffin'." Already his ability is beginning to try and figure things out with his given information. "I'm guessin' th'goggles mean you can'na turn it off, eh?" He tilts his head as the gears continue to turn.

After taking a sip of his drink Dax turns back toward the British guy who seems to be talking to him. “What? What are you saying? I have no idea…What…You’re…What?” The part about Dax not being able to ‘turn it off’ is what gets his attention. “Um…I’m not so sure you understand what’s been going on…there.” He motions toward the bartender. Few people have actually said anything after Dax tried that trick. Most people don’t notice at all. “She just thinks I’m hot, but who can blame her?” He shrugs and hopes that terrible lie will satiate the man next to him.

"Oh now that's precious," Jacob responds with a grin. The fearlessness of his behavior is not due to courage, but more distraction, as he looks over the lies and covers with the force of his abilities. Jacob stands, and comes to stand in front of Dax, between him and the crowd. "I've seen 'at tendah rejec' e'ery Tom an' Dick come in 'ere, an' I ain' evah seen 'er git …. for lack of a be'er word, forgetful." He leans close, clearly breaching the man's personal space, his eyes looking directly at the goggles, "'ow'd you do it…" To the rest of the club, they probably look like a couple of men in the middle of intimidation-based flirtation.

Dax sighs and rolls his eyes as the man persists, though the eye roll can’t actually be seen. He tries to ignore Jacob and looks out at the crowd again. As his visual field is obstructed once more by the man, Dax furrows his brow. “Oh bah, she’s just not used to someone like me’s all.” He smirks, but then gets an annoyed look to his face as Jacob gets a bit too close. “You sure, bud? I’d show you, but you’d never remember.” His hand moves up to his goggles. He wait’s a few moments, without doing anything, and then lowers his eyes. “And that’s how it’s done.” No, he didn’t actually do anything, but maybe this guy’ll think he did.

The gift of the Aptly Intuitive is mental repair. Jacob may not be able to bend steel, fly, open rifts, or blow up suns, but he can withstand mental attacks marginally better than others. Exponentially better if he sees it coming. And as Dax's fingers travel up to his goggles, Jacob prepares himself to repair something that has his bartender associate reeling in confusion. Nothing comes, and as Dax tries to pass it off as the true event. Jacob returns the eye roll in kind, only his is visible. The Decker within him utters with absolute venom, "There's an 'ard way for me t'fin' out for myself, you know." He looks over to the Labyrinth and grins, looking back to Dax, "Jus' show me so's we can be mates, eh kiddo?" Only four years his minor, and looks slightly older, but Jacob's not the sort to avoid a chance of cruel-to-be-kindness.

Seriously? Bah, what a bother. “Why do you care anyway? Not like it matters.” He sighs again and moves his hand back up to his goggles. “You know what, you want it? You got it.” He lifts his goggles again and stares into the eyes of the other man. His eyes seem mildly iridescent in the darkness, almost as though the blacklights have an effect on them. Dax decides he’ll stare at Jacob for a bit longer than he usually does. He HAS been trying to see how long he can keep people’s gazes recently. A girl behind Jacob happens to look over at Dax as he lifts his goggles and stops moving. Dax shifts his gaze to her for a moment and after a couple seconds she falls down. That’s new. Probably a combination of a weak mind, loud music, flashing lights, and alcohol. Dax returns his gaze to Jacob, hoping he’ll at least be able to make him forget why he was talking to Dax in the first place. The girl’s friends help her up, but she seems completely out of it at the moment.

Jacob prepares himself for the reality of it, but nothing could prepare him for what it actually feels like. The longer he stares at Dax, the gravity seems to increase on his face, nudging it backwards and downward. As long as he maintains on the eyes there's also the sense that he's locked in and can't move. It lasts for six, seven excruciating seconds until finally all of Jacob's identity seems to begin draining from him. The gravity softens slightly as he lets go of who he truly is, and so to encourage the softening of the stare's impact, he willingly releases the truth of his situation. And finally, about half a minute of pure staring later, just as he's about to look away and forget all about this horrible incident, Jacob's mind begins to repairs itself. He lowering lids rise upwards, and as he begins to recover knowledge of the situation and — more importantly — who he is, the gravity returns, threatening to crush his head inwards if he doesn't give up and look away. With a grunt Jacob places a hand to steady himself on Dax's shoulder, and he pushes some invisible force against his face, which is turning red with effort. And then, in a moment, it's all gone…

Jacob is left breathing heavily, vulnerable, and easy to kill if Dax had to… if this were a life and death situation, Dax would easily have the upper hand. But Decker is not on the floor in paralysis, nor is he forgetful of his experience, and in that way, he comes out all right - especially considering he didn't look away.

Behind Jacob that girl seems to be regaining her composure and giggles something about having too much to drink. Her friends buy it without question. That’s another benefit to Dax’s powers, those that experience it never remember his eyes. Or…USUALLY never remember. Dax is looking at Jacob with a confused expression. Was this guy trying to fight his gaze? That’s something new. And he doesn’t seem to be reacting to Dax’s ability the way most people do. He decides to put his goggles back down and see how Jacob reacts.

Jacob swallows, and catches his breath quickly before grabbing another drink from someone passing by and downing it, before handing it back over and giving them a staredown in response in their indignation. He returns back to Dax, wiping the vodka from his lips as he utters, "Dif'ren' colors. Neat trick." He coughs again and shakes his head, "I fink 'at was abou' th'worse trip I've 'ad." With a quick sniff of his nose he's about resumed his composure, and his gears once more go to work trying to figure out what just happened to him. "Another meta-mutate," he begins, mostly to himself.

Impossible! He remembered the experience? Right down to the color of Dax's eyes. The man tries to hide his discomfort. At least he seems to be able to incapacitate this guy, but why can he remember? "Meta…Metawha?" Mutate, that's what he'd said. So he knows Dax is a mutant, that's not surprising, but why isn't he affected. Unless…"Hmmm. I don' think you're entirely human yerself if you can remember that, bud." Dax takes another drink of his beverage and looks the man over. Doesn't look terribly threatening, though he apparently has no sense of personal boundaries.

Decker taps his finger to his nose with something of an evil grin and proceeds to sit back on his stool. "A Meta-Mutate, 's wha' I call you folk 'oo do sumfin' wif th'min'. It ain' a physical mutate, like… say tha' Lan'shark wot loves in th'cave by th'sea. At leas', seems t'be sumfin' wif th'min'. Can' do that wif jus' th'eyes I'd wager." The Bartender comes over, and treats the two of them like she hadn't been on this side of the bar or completely ripped off by half of them. He orders a gin and tonic. "I'm one too. A Meta. I get fings… know 'ow they work. An' my min' repairs itself. Thanks swee'eart." He says as he recovers the drink, and pays for it properly.

So he IS a mutant. That WOULD explain why he recovered so fast. “I see. By ‘landshark’ I assume you mean William?” Yes, he knows about the lizard-beast. “So a Meta-Mutate has some sort of mind ability…And William is a physical mutate…What about someone who can, say…create fire? Would that be a meta, too? Or perhaps something else?” He finishes off his drink but does not order another one. He doesn’t want to get drunk around someone who even has the slightest immunity to his powers.

"If you really want to boil in'o it, I've go' a lis' of all th'mutates I 'eard of, an' I put 'em in groups." He sniffs and moves some stray hair from our of his face, and goes on, "Elemen'als, Quicklings, Beastials, like William. Alters, like you. Tinkers, like me. Lis' goes on." At this he turns back to his drink and takes a sip, as if opening the floor for any questions that he might have, after adding finally, "I'm a bit obsessed."

Dax looks over Jacob again. “Interesting, I suppose.” Well, yes interesting. But why so obsessed, and who came up with these names? Dax doesn’t go around reading scientific papers or anything like that. He decides to ask nothing further. Asking questions reveals things about the asker, and Dax isn’t sure he trusts this guy yet. “Well…That’s good too, maybe.”

Jacob came up with these names. Basic text books or anything close to a way to understanding mutants isn't about to be sold in Barnes and Noble, and so people like Jacob take it upon themselves to be the namers of these real life events. "Anyway, kid, it's late." Jacob stands - and as there are many more hours left in the night, Jacob seems to correct, "Well, I'm late." And he offers the briefest of grins towards Dax, in case the goggles came down again. "See you 'roun' two-tones." He gives a wink of his own eye and begins to depart.

Dax is quite relieved by this turn of events. He was trying to find a reason to leave himself, but this will work all the same. He gives a little salute-wave thingy to Jacob as he departs and takes note of the man's appearance. He doesn't want to forget about the man who didn't forget about him. "Er, yeah. See ya. And that nickname makes me want to vomit violently…just so you know." It sounds like a joke, but Dax's expression is hard to read with those goggles. He stays at the bar until about ten minutes after he lost sight of Jacob. Afterward, he'll probably wander around town for a while before returning to his own club.

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