Emma's Manhattan -- Early Friday Morning
Jan. 1st, 2010 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icecoldfrostMost people wouldn't give the girl slipping out of the hotel in the early hours of the morning a second glance. Jeans, an oversize NYU sweatshirt, and a knit-cap pulled over down low over her ears; just another member of the housekeeping staff leaving out the back door after her overnight shift.
It would take a second, third, or probably fourth glance before anyone recognized Emma, and by then she'd be gone. Down the side street, around the corner, and slipping down an alley to where her portal waited to take her a half-step to the side. Same day, same city, but a different year and another universe.
From there it was a quick walk to a corner store for some supplies, then down into the subway, through a grate, and down a tunnel into a long-abandoned section of the station. There was more than just the abandoned lower level under the 42nd Street station -- there were some unused chambers down there, walled off from the rest of the sewer system. Hank had found it during his nocturnal wanderings, and it made for a pretty warm (and dry) home and lab.
"Hank?" she called, dropping the pack of canned goods into the darkened room before climbing down from the air-shaft entrance. "Hank, are you home?"
"Did you know you have cilliary cells with c-opsins? They're very pretty in this light."
"I'm taking that as a yes." Emma flicked on her flashlight, sweeping it up to where Hank was hanging from the ceiling in the dark. "Come down from there. You're not a bat."
"While I hold much in common with the Chiroptera, especially the microbat, I am forced to agree. Which is unfortunate, as echolocation seems handy."
"I am just going to pretend I don't know what you said, because I'm happier that way," she sighed, picking up the pack and heading towards the area that had been designated as food-storage as opposed to 'space for Hank's mad experiments'. "Come on, Fuzzy. When was the last time you ate?"
Hank flipped down off his pipe. "I had pizza!"
"When?" When he didn't answer, Emma just shook her head. "That's what I thought. I'm going to start coming back more often, just to check on you. You can't spend four days in the lab without eating!"
"No, not safe." Hank's face settled in a mulish expression. "You should be at school. School will help you learn."
"School isn't half as accepting of powers and colors as you promised, especially if you like using them, and I'm perfectly safe. Besides, I can't come back and help you if I stay there, now can I?" she asked, starting to take out the canned food she'd purchased and setting it on the scavenged bookshelves. "Maybe I'll bring some people next time, some friends. Would you like that?"
"Friends?" It wasn't an entirely friendly rumble. "What kind of friends? People are bad."
"Not bad people," Emma promised. "I don't like bad people either. I'll bring someone nice, who won't yell or throw things at you, okay? Like Karla or Jack. Promise me you'll think about it?"
There was an unhappy growl from Hank, and Emma sighed. "I won't bring anyone down unless you're okay with it, I promise. But Karla has powers like me, and she might be able to help us."
"Powers?" Oh yes, someone's interest perked up. "Psion?"
Emma pitched a can of soup at Hank's head, which he easily dodged. "No dissecting my friends," she scolded. "No poking, no proding, no science unless they say you can. It's January in New York; you have all the frozen cadavers you could want. You don't need any live specimens."
"No science on Emma's friends. Okay." He sounded positively dejected. "I'll be good."
"Good boy." 'Kitchen' restock finished -- and Emma used the term loosely -- she turned to regard him. "Now, I've got a few more hours before I have to get back to the hotel to go back to the island. Let's see how much of that rattled brain of yours we can put back into place."
[NFB, NFI, and all that jazz!]
It would take a second, third, or probably fourth glance before anyone recognized Emma, and by then she'd be gone. Down the side street, around the corner, and slipping down an alley to where her portal waited to take her a half-step to the side. Same day, same city, but a different year and another universe.
From there it was a quick walk to a corner store for some supplies, then down into the subway, through a grate, and down a tunnel into a long-abandoned section of the station. There was more than just the abandoned lower level under the 42nd Street station -- there were some unused chambers down there, walled off from the rest of the sewer system. Hank had found it during his nocturnal wanderings, and it made for a pretty warm (and dry) home and lab.
"Hank?" she called, dropping the pack of canned goods into the darkened room before climbing down from the air-shaft entrance. "Hank, are you home?"
"Did you know you have cilliary cells with c-opsins? They're very pretty in this light."
"I'm taking that as a yes." Emma flicked on her flashlight, sweeping it up to where Hank was hanging from the ceiling in the dark. "Come down from there. You're not a bat."
"While I hold much in common with the Chiroptera, especially the microbat, I am forced to agree. Which is unfortunate, as echolocation seems handy."
"I am just going to pretend I don't know what you said, because I'm happier that way," she sighed, picking up the pack and heading towards the area that had been designated as food-storage as opposed to 'space for Hank's mad experiments'. "Come on, Fuzzy. When was the last time you ate?"
Hank flipped down off his pipe. "I had pizza!"
"When?" When he didn't answer, Emma just shook her head. "That's what I thought. I'm going to start coming back more often, just to check on you. You can't spend four days in the lab without eating!"
"No, not safe." Hank's face settled in a mulish expression. "You should be at school. School will help you learn."
"School isn't half as accepting of powers and colors as you promised, especially if you like using them, and I'm perfectly safe. Besides, I can't come back and help you if I stay there, now can I?" she asked, starting to take out the canned food she'd purchased and setting it on the scavenged bookshelves. "Maybe I'll bring some people next time, some friends. Would you like that?"
"Friends?" It wasn't an entirely friendly rumble. "What kind of friends? People are bad."
"Not bad people," Emma promised. "I don't like bad people either. I'll bring someone nice, who won't yell or throw things at you, okay? Like Karla or Jack. Promise me you'll think about it?"
There was an unhappy growl from Hank, and Emma sighed. "I won't bring anyone down unless you're okay with it, I promise. But Karla has powers like me, and she might be able to help us."
"Powers?" Oh yes, someone's interest perked up. "Psion?"
Emma pitched a can of soup at Hank's head, which he easily dodged. "No dissecting my friends," she scolded. "No poking, no proding, no science unless they say you can. It's January in New York; you have all the frozen cadavers you could want. You don't need any live specimens."
"No science on Emma's friends. Okay." He sounded positively dejected. "I'll be good."
"Good boy." 'Kitchen' restock finished -- and Emma used the term loosely -- she turned to regard him. "Now, I've got a few more hours before I have to get back to the hotel to go back to the island. Let's see how much of that rattled brain of yours we can put back into place."
[NFB, NFI, and all that jazz!]
