bigapplesauce | Exploring the city [OPEN]

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Exploring the city [OPEN]

It's Christmas Day and Bruce could use a miracle or two. He doesn't know how he got here or how to get back. He can't find Tony or Avenger's Tower. To be honest, Bruce is a bit disgusted with himself at how easily he got used to having a team to rely on and a home to go back to. He's been living in a homeless shelter, looking for work. Naturally, he's missing some important papers, so he needs under the table work. That's all right. Bruce has experience at this sort of thing. Right now, he's heading for the docks, to see if he can get some work there.

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"It leaves traces of some kind of radiation on them," Blythe confirms. "It's all too technical for me -- but to answer your question...anything you can think of, I suppose. I know someone who can control milk with his mind."

"M-milk?" Bruce repeats, incredulously. "He controls...milk. His telekinesis works on milk. Any sort of milk? Cow? Goat?"

"Milk," confirms Blythe. "Any kind, so far as I know -- supposedly he can cure a lactose stomach ache, but I've never seen him do it."

"Oh, well, that's...at least something good might be coming from it," Bruce laughed shakily. "I definitely want to study this rift."

"You might get your chance," replies Blythe, feeling she's scored a point. Not all operatives have to be the sort who go on rescue or espionage missions, after all.

"I might," Bruce agreed, shrugging. "About what percentage of rifties would you say are affected?"

"At least half," shrugs Blythe. "I'm not sure of the numbers, sorry -- and personally, I don't think everyone who has a power admits to it."

Bruce nods, thoughtfully.

"No, I would imagine not. They'd be afraid, of themselves, of being different..." he breaks off with a slight sigh.

"Some of them, yes," replies Blythe, leading the way back up out of the subway. "Though I imagine some of them don't do it because it's not to their advantage for others to know."

[OOC: Just gonna say they rode the train at some point during this conversation, cause I kind of forgot to write about what they were doing.]

"That too," Bruce agrees, following her closely and looking around nervously. He doesn't like close spaces, especially close spaces filled with lots of people. "Are we almost there?"

(Works for me. :D)

"Almost -- I did tell you it was a ways." Perhaps she should have just taken him to the library where she works -- but too many strangers brought in and given personal assistance with no explanation of who they are would raise questions she doesn't want to think up lies to answer. They emerge into daylight, and she immediately turns down a street toward the library, not even needing to think about the way to get there.

"Yes, you did," Bruce sighs. He follows her, still looking about, though avoiding eye contact and trying not to appear too apparent.

"No one's going to notice you," chuckles Blythe after a few moments, noticing his behavior. "This is New York, after all."

"This is New York," Banner agreed. "Large cities tend to be fairly dangerous. This many people, all with their own problems, agendas, temperaments. It's...chaotic. You never know what might happen."

"What are you afraid might happen?" asks Blythe, leading the way up the steps to the library. It's understandable for new rifties to feel out of their element, but Bruce talks about it like he's used to living in some sort of paranoid state.

Bruce gave a tight smile, shaking his head.

"You convince me and I'll tell you. Don't worry. It's not an immediate concern," he tried to reassure her, though he wasn't entirely convinced himself. His control wasn't perfect and the city provided too many reasons for stress.

She can tell, of course, that he doesn't believe in his answer as an absolute truth. That's a bit worrying; just what does he think is the problem?

Pushing inside, she flashes a smile at the librarian at the desk, then leads Bruce briskly toward the computers at the back. "We'll start with what's online -- the official statements and the little things they've given the media to tell everyone," she whispers.

Bruce gives the librarian a timid smile and follows Blythe, nodding at her declaration.

"All right. Show me what they've said."

Blythe pulls two chairs up to one of the public computers, logs on anonymously, and starts opening relevant pages in tabs. "What you're looking for a lot of the time is what isn't there," she explains quietly, leaning back to give Bruce access to the terminal.

Bruce nods, not surprised. He studies the information, scrolling and flipping between articles. He frowns, more and more. He notes that ROMAC tries hard to come across as fair and benevolent, a force of good for both natives and rifties, but Bruce isn't convinced. He shakes his head. No doubt most people in the organization would think they were doing the right thing, helping those who needed it. He sighs. He can't let this continue.

"All right. I want the other proofs we discussed, but...this is enough for now."

Blythe is patient, sitting back and letting Bruce sift through the information himself, only occasionally speaking up to direct him to something else he should see or take note of. She's pleased (and perhaps a little relieved) when he at last comes to the 'correct' conclusion.

"Naturally," she agrees. "Will you be coming back to the base, or do we still need to prove ourselves?"

"I will, but first I need to tell you a bit about myself. I...have a condition that makes it extremely dangerous for me to get angry, afraid, or in any way stressed out. These things trigger a transformation, both mental and physical. I become a very dangerous creature, who is very difficult to control or defeat."

She blinks at him. From his words alone, she would guess that he's lying or insane. He's certainly not lying, though -- and while her powers don't include the ability to telepathically assess sanity, she doesn't get the feeling from their interactions that his mind would be that badly damaged.

"I see," she says, taking him utterly seriously. "How do you cope with it normally?"

Bruce sighs.

"It's not easy. My only real defense is to remain calm. I do breathing exercises, limit the stimulants I consume, and meditate. I've learned to not let little things bother me...and I pretty much have to write off anything that doesn't get me or someone else seriously hurt as little."

Blythe mulls that over. "Will you be able to stay calm if I take you back to the base?"

She knows she's asking him something he might not know, but she needs his answer. She doesn't want to write him off as too dangerous to be free -- she's very hesitant to make that judgment call even when that's where the evidence points, and she's not sure it does in this case.

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