ArchivedLogs:Salvation

Salvation
Dramatis Personae Luke Cage, Micah, Rasheed	18 November 2013 Updates on the plague cure (!) and Lucien's status. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. Luke Cage is in the kitchen. Or well, break room kitchenette. A full-on parka is draped over a nearby chair, and he's wearing heavy jeans, boots, and possibly two sweaters, a red one underneath and a black one on top. His sleeves are pushed up, and he's picking through a big pile of supplies in the middle of the room. When he identifies the tin of instant coffee he nods, and spoons a slim portion into a mug and runs room temperature water into it, slowly stirring it as he leans his butt back against the counter. Micah is on the supply circuit! He is wearing his bright orange Jayne hat, gloves striped in gradient from black to light green, a pair of hiking boots, patchy jeans, and an olive green canvas jacket over a powder blue Totoro face T-shirt. Oh, and one ferret, wrapped around his shoulders and playing with one of the ear flaps of his hat. He sort of...appears, walking through the doorway with no warning whatsoever, pushing a laden grocery handcart. The elevator dings, out in the lobby, discharging one tired-looking Rasheed. He's thinner than even his usual beanpole frame, wearing the same kind of haggard-underfed-underslept look that the majority of the city is wearing of late. He stops in the kitchen doorway, eyes skipping around the room with a slow blink. "Ferret," he observes. Observantly. He eyes the winter gear with a small furrow of brow. "-- Has it gotten that cold out there already?" He -- may not have left the clinic for a while. Luke's eyes widen slightly when Micah and the ferret appear out of nowhere, but maybe he's seen Jax do this trick by now, because he doesn't seem caught /fully/ off guard. "Hey," is all he says at first. He turns and grins when the doctor comes in. "Shit yeah it's cold," Cage says from his spot by the sink. He grins. "Supposed to be in the thirties tonight, and I'm kind of a wuss when it comes to cold. Anything under seventy is basically freezing, as far as I'm concerned." He shrugs, and sips at his coffee. "It's Rasheed, right?" He turns to Micah, "And uh... shit don't tell me... you're Micah, right? Nice to see you guys. I'm on your perimeter tonight." Micah turns at the sound of the elevator, offering a warm smile to Rasheed. "Yes, ferret. Though this ferret is actually a young man named Joshua. There was a...mutant ability mishap. But now, ferret with teleportation capabilities. Very handy for shopping. I've brought food." He pauses for a second, taking off his hat and gloves and shoving them into his pockets before resuming the push of cart into kitchen. "It /is/ pretty cold. I'm a Southerner, though, so I might be overreactin' just a touch." Cage also receives a nod and smile as Micah stands the cart and begins unloading bags. "Yessir, that's me. Good t'see /everybody/ these days. Come for my daily gettin'-stabbed with needles, some restockin', an' some food-prep t'make sure the research team don't drop over." He looks over to Rasheed. "You like stir-fry? The first place I found that didn't get all fretty-face about tryin' t'go in with a ferret was a nice little Chinese grocery." "I know Joshua." Rasheed leans forward to peer more closely at the ferret. "We've met several times. Not, ah." He tips his hand outwards towards the ferret. "In this guise. At the moment, Micah, I think I like /anything/ that resembles real food. I think we had a day of eating mostly Doritos." He steps in further, moving towards the kitchen to get himself a mug, too, and stir some coffee into it. "Rasheed, yes. And thank you, for your help. Sometimes I feel guilty, we must be nearly the only people in Manhattan /not/ fretting about attack." The complaints about the cold only pull a small smile from him. "It only gets worse from here," he adds so cheerfully. Luke chuckles at the mental image of 'shopping with a ferret' and then sips at his coffee. "Well I don't know what my excuse is, Micah. I'm from Harlem. Had bitch-ass cold winters my whole life, and I still wuss out by Halloween." He sniffs the instant coffee, wrinkles his nose and takes another sip anyway. "And don't feel guilty, Doc. This place goes up and the whole thing falls apart. I'm happy to help." "We're still tryin' t'figure out how t'unferret 'im. I don't think he /wanted/ t'be a ferret." Now that Micah's hat has been put away, Joshua-ferret is starting to eye the grocery bags with an interest. Micah pulls a string of silver Mardi Gras style beads out from under his jacket, giving them a little wiggle. It works like magic to attract ferret-attention. /Shiny/! "Oh, I /know/ about the cold. Spent all last winter livin' in the back of my van. At least this year I've got /building/. Provided we don't get evicted 'cause no one has been able t'keep up their gainful employment durin' this mess." His nose scrunches as he continues his task of unloading grocery bags. "I think y'all have earned the right not t'be worryin' about attacks /at least/. Shouldn't need t'worry about food, either. Y'all are runnin' yourselves past any sane point t'cure this thing. How's it comin', anyhow?" One bag earns the privilege of being emptied immediately once he finds it. A waxed paper bag that smells of coffee grounds. Three tins labelled as green, white, and black teas. "I picked up real coffee and three kinds of tea. Lucien was horrified by the lack of tea. Is...d'you know how he's doin'? I should stop by an' visit before I go, if he's up for it." "It does seem at odds with his typical profession," Rasheed agrees, watching the ferret's interest in the beads with a very small frown. The frown deepens with his first sip of coffee, but he, too, plows on /determinedly/. Gulp. Grimace. Swallow. It's like taking /medicine/. "We don't wish to spread the news until there is supply enough to distribute," the doctor speaks quietly, down towards his cup of coffee. Which he is glaring at. "But all the tests continue to return clean and production is underway." The grimace vanishes at the mention of real coffee. "Micah, you /are/ a savior." Though now it's back to a frown again just as soon. "You can visit, if you like. I cannot definitively answer for you how much he will take from the gesture, though. He is still comatose." Luke smiles distractedly when the Ferret is so occupied by the shiny, but then his attention is completely captured by Micah revealing the ground coffee. "I haven't had fresh coffee in... Well shit it /feels/ like months, but you know what I mean, right?" He walks over to where Micah set the bag down, reaches out and then pauses, looking to the other men. "You fellas mind if I put a pot on? Be a shame to let this go to waste, and I gotta start my shift outside soon." When he doesn't get any pushback, he takes the bag over to the clinic's coffee maker and goes about setting up a filter, and pouring in the water. When Rasheed drops his tentative news, the coffee is already percolating away. He turns back and takes a seat, lowering himself carefully into one of the kitchen chairs. "Holy shit, Doc, are you for real?" Luke's mouth just works for a minute, but then he scrubs his face with his hands. "I dunno if Jax told you, but half the reason I wanted to help so much, once I found where this place was... well my mom caught this thing, before we knew about the words. Not sure how I lucked out, but that's the story of my life, I guess. I just..." Cage isn't about to cry, but he is openly emotional. "Holy shit, man. Mom's gonna be ok." He stands, and walks to Rasheed. "Doc, I just gotta shake your hand. This town owes you a debt." “Not me,” Micah argues back, though with a smile, at the accusation of being a saviour. “That's y'all here. Comin' up with that cure. Mr. Cage is right. I mean...I've got this thing. My whole /family/ has got this thing. Most of my friends. Pretty much the entirety of the buildin' we live in. We all owe y'folks more'n we could repay.” He pauses in his unpacking to scruff a hand through his hair. “Let me know when it's most convenient t'get whatever tests y'need from me for the day. I'll arrange cookin' an'...visitin' around that.” The news darkens his expression, though he tries to fight this somewhat. “Has anyone been able t'check on just how bad it is? Is he still completely unresponsive?” "Real coffee sounds like a godsend." Rasheed offers his hand to Cage when the other man approaches, but he looks faintly bemused at it. "We could hardly have done what we did without," Rasheed's eyes slip from Cage to Micah, and then back, "extensive assistance." With real coffee brewing, now, he tips the rest of his instant mix down the sink drain, rinsing out his cup. "We should be able to start distribution later this week. So long as your families stay current on their /other/ medication, it should hopefully be timely." He leans back against the edge of the sink's counter, his palms resting to either side of himself on its edge. His fingers curl, long and spindly, around its corner. "We can go get you started once I get some more caffeine into myself. It's -- a lengthier process with Lucien out of the picture." He breathes out a long breath at the question of Lucien's responsiveness, shaking his head. "He does not open his eyes, and his vocalizations are meaningless and not apparently connected to any external stimuli. He displays some decerebrate posturing in response to painful stimulus." After which he only gives a small shrug of one slouched shoulder. "In most others I would say his prognosis is poor. He is not quite most others, though." Cage looks from Micah to Rasheed, and then elsewhere. It's obvious the other men are going through hard times, their own personal pain, and Luke just isn't the type to get in the way of that. When the coffee maker quits hissing and spitting and drips its last drabs into the coffee pot, Luke does a little rummaging and comes up with a brushed aluminum travel mug, which he fills with coffee. Into it also goes a clearly unhealthy amount of cream and sugar, stirred, and then he screws the lid onto the mug. He smiles at Micah's 'Mr. Cage' and nods, "Just 'Luke', guys. Please." He sets down his mug to get into his parka, before picking it up again. "I gotta head outside, gentlemen, but you know where to find me. If there is anything... /ANY/thing I can do for you in here. Don't even hesitate." He looks like he wants to say something about their comatose friend, but he's just not That Guy. "Goodnight, guys." “Good. Good, thank you. That's an enormous relief. I mean, it's one thing t'trust that you guys were gonna find it. Another entirely t'/have/ the answer right there.” Micah has stopped to say this as he places the last of the perishable goods into the refrigerator. The cold draft from within finally reminds him to close the door. “No, he's...quite unique. I'll see if I can stop by his house later today an' grab some familiar things t'have around. That's s'posed t'help.” He leans back against the refrigerator for a moment, chewing at his lower lip, one hand petting at Joshua-ferret's fur perfunctorily. Cage's correction and exit bring his attention back to the others in the room. “Oh, s--I apologise. Luke. Have a good night. Take care of yourself out there.” Rasheed tips his head to Cage, in acknowledgment of this goodbye. "Goodnight," he returns, "and thank you for your assistance." He picks his mug back up to pour it full of coffee as well, straight black though he adds a touch of sugar. "If there is much left in his home, he might appreciate that." He takes a small sip of his coffee, eyes closing briefly in blissful appreciation. "Mmm. I'll go start preparing the equipment. I'll see you downstairs shortly, Micah." Cup in hand, he removes himself towards the elevator again.