Tears of Rage [Invite]

[Sam Keaton]

"Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know we're so low
And life is brief"

Sam Keaton was a shell of his former self. The man that had once been in charge of an elite secret organization had just about lost everything. The young man was battle-hardened. He was weary and full of anger, spite and disdain for the world. Sam was a broken man who had lost just about everything and everyone he'd cared about in this world. Truth be told, Sam had difficulty getting through the day sometimes. He wasn't sure what he was holding onto anymore. A shred of hope that Emma was still out there somewhere. A shred of hope that his family hadn't totally disappeared. Sam didn't know much of anything anymore. He'd lost all contact with Harper when she'd gone dark. Just like that, everything Keaton had known and had in this world had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The one thing Sam had to be thankful for in this life right now were his abilities. Even though the young man had lost his sight, he was still able to see in a sense. Sam's ability to control seismic activity could result in a form of echolocation. The young man could walk around with near-perfection just as if he could see like everyone else. It was a wonder really and a shame that almost everyone in the world couldn't experience something like it. Although his accident had crippled him, he wasn't at a complete and total loss. What would have been debilitating for most was actually somewhat manageable for Sam.

Sure, it was the little things that helped Sam most days. Not being totally blind and immersed in a world of darkness certainly helped that. It didn't help much, but it definitely didn't hurt either. Today started out like most days for the young Mr. Keaton. Sam started with his morning stroll through Mission Dolores Park. The young man had his white cane in one hand and a cup of coffee (with a double shot of bourbon, of course) in the other. Keaton strolled quietly through the park until he found his usual bench. The young man took a seat like he did most mornings, and tried to appreciate the little things around him.

As the young man sat there, he took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup down on the bench beside him. Keaton breathed deeply and ruffled his ragged, scruffy beard with a free hand. With the other hand, Sam tapped his cane rhythmically on the ground. The resulting vibrations illuminated Sam's world around him. As the young man took solace in the peacefulness in the park at such an early hour, something piqued his interest. Something... Or rather someone was behind him. Sam furrowed his brow slightly before speaking up. "It's rude to stare, y'know..."

[Christian Moynahan]

Alain Jensen

Is it all for the fallen angel
What makes you act so afraid?
If I were there I’d die for your honor, angel
What makes you act so ashamed?
I won’t give up
I won’t give in
But it’s not my war!

But I’ll carry all your weight
Just pass the sad lines alone!

-Parabelle, “Blisters and Bad Eyes”

Work sent him everywhere. So did personal life. There was only one person who knew more about Christian Moynahan’s personal life, and that person basically was Christian’s personal life. Alain was sure he would not have known either, but it became easy to guess when he was teleporting Ark’s CEO to and from Texas and occasionally other places. Alain cared deeply for his boss, however, and, although Alain had his own life - a wife and children - he had told Christian that he was at the man’s disposal at any time. He figured Christian still did his best to respect Alain’s time, since he seldom texted for a ‘port after a certain hour except in extreme emergencies.

This one had more to do with work. It would be covert work - no one knew that Ark was still experimenting on people, Specials especially. After all this, the subject would have his mind wiped, as did all of their “volunteers.” There would be no risking the positive reputation Christian was slowly building for Ark, no matter how much the press loved him at the moment. Christian knew the press - and other parties - were waiting for one sign, one moment for him to mess up.

So Alain went to the park alone. The mission was to locate their subject, transport him to the Basement, and keep him isolated and secured until Christian arrived. That would be nothing. The subject only needed to be in Alain’s line of sight for him to teleport said subject. But he needed to build a rapport, a trusting relationship of sorts, at least until after the experiments and the mind wipe.

He was looking at the man on the bench, trying to determine whether this was Sam Keaton, the subject, but apparently he looked a little too long. Alain was surprised that Keaton was able to recognize him, since Keaton was supposed to be blind. And seeing Alain frombehind him, no less. “You’ve got me,” Alain said, walking around the bench and taking a seat on it. “That was interesting stuff. I assumed you were blind.” The cane had suggested that much.

“How’s your morning going?” Alain asked pleasantly, folding his arms relaxedly across his chest and stretching his long legs ahead of him.