|Scene Title||Psychotic But Great At Snakecharming|
|Synopsis||Rufus receives his second Visitation from Tyr, but it's not exactly a happy reunion. Pikachu STed Tyr.|
The door from the alley opens into a small room or short hallway in this brownstone. At the far end is an antiquated lift that looks like a birdcage, complete with manual levers for operation. Dispite its age, the mechanism appears to be well cared for.
At the bottom, the lift opens into some sort of antechamber from one corner of the room. Before the open cage door is a plain, unornamented wall of what appears to be granite with a thick wooden door set inside it. Engraved above the door archway is "Special Immigration Office: East"
Access is only granted with the proper key. Once opened, the granite door swings inward as a computerized neutral voice intones, "Provisional Access Granted. Containment and Research are currently under lock down. Efforts to penetrate secure doors will be discouraged." Through the doorway, there's a large console in the middle of the chamber with a three dimensional display of the New York City atop it. The holographic display is a fairly complete representation of New York City and it's environs. Mostly there is a very simplistic representation of structures, although the map does have a few colored markers. Numbers and figures at times scroll past, apparently having meaning to someone. Computer workstations hug the walls, along with filing cabinets and desks. Several cots and assorted supplies are pushed into out of the way corners as well, with the idea of long stays. The room is some sort of think-tank, apparently. The only other unlocked door leads to a small kitchen and dining area, which are well-stocked.
On this cold February night, the two ladies who inhabit the hub with Scrivner are out and about, doing their own thing. Since that rather loud rescue of Jacob from the Atlanteans, the one that everyone's calling the assassination attempt, Rufus Scrivner has pretty much packed up his stuff and moved here. He abandoned his posh flat, liquidated his assets, and he's taken to living here like some sort of fugitive. Which… he supposes he rather is. Oh well. Mortal life was beginning to get tedious and dull.
Right now, slumped in an old, secondhand armchair he found some time ago, the man reads through a book about myths and legends related to Atlantis. So far? He's not finding too much that's enlightening. Just the same ol' same ol' crap he's found before.
"Well you're a murderous bastard aren't you.."
It's a familiar voice, but it's obviously teasing. Tyr has gotten the help of one of the Valkyries as he arrives ala rainbow bridge style, sparkling with many colors. Dion would be proud. He chuckles and lets out a hearty laugh as he looks towards his son.
"Psychotic you may be, but godsdamned boy, you know how to fuck up snakes. Snakecharmin' Scrivner." he says with another chuckle.
He just about leaps out of his skin in startlement, dropping the book and getting to his feet. Spinning to face the man, Rufus' eyes widen and he draws back a half a step before relaxing…. just a little. He hasn't forgotten the Nasty Gram Dad sent about the young mortals he killed. The man doesn't smile. Rather, his cheeks flush with colour, and his mouth tightens with a grimace. "It's good to see you as well, Father," he answers quietly.
"So quite a conundrum you have here, don't you?"
Tyr smiles cheerily as he's in one of his avatar forms, a red bushy beard on his features as he waddles on over to a chair and sits down. He's got some girth about him afterall. "So what are you planning on doing?" he asks.
Stepping back, then bending to pick up the book from the floor, Rufus lightly brushes off the cover before he sets it back down upon a nearby table. "I don't know," he admits. "I really, honestly do not know what in the Hell to do, Father. I'd thought about taking one of the Atlanteans and trying to question him, to find out /how/ New York City was so drastically changed and how we can restore control to humanity." Then he comes forward, and he sinks down into a chair opposite Tyr, leaning forward, looking rather hopeful. "Can you help us? Can you tell me what's going on? Who the Atlanteans /really/ are?"
"What kind of dumbass question is that? Who the Atlanteans really are? They're the Atlanteans!"
Flail flail. Tyr does an exasperated one as he spins around in the chair a little before he looks towards his son. "Who do you think I am? Hel, boy, I'm not one of the Norns." he grumps.
"It's the kind of question a man with a mortal education would ask, Father," Rufus retorts, ever so quietly, his mouth flattening again. "The kind of question a man would ask when he's been trying to teach himself how the world really works." He leans back a little, sighing, "The thing is, Father, I don't understand anything of what is going on. Call me a dumbass if you will, but I'm trying the best that I can here. What really, tremendously worries me is the thought that the society they're setting up here /seems/ utopic, but …." He scowls then. "But something seems off, and I don't know how far is too far when it comes to taking action against them."
"You really think that the Atlanteans are bad, huh, boy. Why do you think they're bad? This I want to hear from someone who does not know the history of the gods and our relationship with the Atlanteans."
Tyr crosses his arms over his chest and hrmms while raising his brows towards his son expectantly.
"They have wrested control of New York city away from the mortals," Rufus says quietly, frowning and looking his father back in the eyes. "They have imposed their vision of utopia upon them, and whether or not it's a /good/ change, it has denied humanity its free will, and it has denied them the right to make their own makes and find their own way. It is our place as gods to protect and guide them from the forces of the supernatural that would destroy them, not keep them as … pampered hounds." He falls quiet, then he says, "That and… I had heard from a friend that the pregnant princess intended to slaughter innocent beggars. That rather gave me the idea that they were evil. Granted, I'm not so certain now that the scenario was what it appeared to be."
"And your vision for the mortals is better than the Atlanteans why? It's your right to determine what the mortals want and what would make them happy why? Are you all of a sudden a mindreader, boy? Is it really your place to decide what is right for the mortals any more than what the Atlanteans did? I think the words that come to mind are pot. Kettle. Black."
Tyr hrmms for a few moments as he raises his brows at the bit of that. "Oh, hearsay. Rumors. One that would discredit one from others. Now, did the pregnant princess actually slaughter the innocent beggars? The last I heard, she gave them jobs and royal housing to protect New Atlantis at all costs." It seems his father is playing the devil's advocate for the moment.
"My vision for the Atlanteans does not require imposing false memories and false information in their minds. It involves… simply letting them live, unbothered and free." Rufus does not quite relax in the presence of his father. He grips the arms of his chair with white knuckles, looking about ready to hit the ceiling and dig in his claws like some sort of cat that's way too uptight. "In the end, the fate of the mortals should be left for the mortals to decide. As far as I know, no one asked every single mortal man, woman and child if they wanted New York City to be changed as it is now. No one stepped up to them and said, 'We can do this for you if you will worship us as your gods and acknowledge us as your royalty.' The Atlanteans simply did it. Is it my place to decide what is right for them? No. I'm not a mindreader. I cannot look into the hearts of men with crystal clarity." He falls quiet for a moment, then he says, "The ends do not justify the means, and the road to Hell is paved with good intentions."
"Aye, that it is." Tyr replies with a nod as he hrmms, stroking the beard on his chin as he continues to peer towards Rufus a bit more, studying his features. "But I'll let you in on a little secret." and he leans in close. "Their fate isn't." What does he mean bythat as he sighs and shakes his head once more, massaging the bridge of his nose. "There's still so much you don't understand about the world, the overworlds, m'boy. But that's fine, that's not why I'm here, to discuss those…" and he looks with a bit of distaste. "Intellectual things with you."
Rufus' shoulders inch a bit lower as he almost relaxes, and he briefly turns a scowl down at the floor. "Father," he says quietly. "If …" His scowl darkens, and he starts again, "What I mean is that.. I never got a chance to say I'm sorry about the mortals and the kappa. The mortal boys had taken a drug to give them supernatural powers, and I truly thought they were Titanspawn until they reverted. As for the kappa… Yes, well. I was an idiot there. But I'm sorry. It … is very worrying that you think I'm murderous and psychotic. I am trying not to be a disgrace to our family."
"I did not raise you to be murderous and psychotic, but then again…" and there's a shrug of his shoulders. "I did not really raise you, so for that I apologize." Tyr says as his features soften a little. He becomes stern once more as he hears about the mortal boys and the kappa once more and he rolls his eyes as he massages his temples once more.
"You're much too old for a spanking. And you're too old for a grounding. But I do ask of you to not be so hasty in judging. You are a lawyer, you are an advocate, of the people. You are to uphold the law, not to become some needless vigilante. I expect more from my children!" he says with a mighty bellow.
For a second or two, Rufus' eyes widen, and he looks as if he's bracing himself for a great deal of pain. He swallows hard around the painful knot in his throat, and for awhile he can't speak, waiting for the doom to fall upon him. In the end, he manages to calmly answer, "I will do everything in my power not to disappoint you again, Father."
"Good, because I don't like being disappointed. Though I do have one more question. If you hate New Atlantis and the Atlanteans so much, why did you fight Apophis?" he asks curiously, his bushy brows raised as he peers towards his son.
The man blinks at that question, taken offguard by it. "It was destroying everything," Rufus says in answer. "It was going through New Atlantis, tearing up buildings and knocking over everything. Thousands of people must have died that day. I couldn't let it rampage and kill everyone and everything." He exhales a long breath, and he adds, "It would have been irresponsible and wrong. Something tells me that… if we are to return New York to the way it was, it should not be done through killing everything. There has to be a better way. I want to find it."
"You realize that Apophis was sent here to destroy New Atlantis for being anathema to creation. You saved New Atlantis, something which you feel is anathema in and of itself. You, son, are a champion of New Atlantis." Tyr points out as he looks towards Rufus just to gauge his reaction.
His initial reaction is stunned silence, one where he stares at his father with confusion and dismay. "It was killing innocent people," he says in answer, voice tight and choked. "What else could I do? You surely can't stand there and say that it would have been right to let it rampage unchecked. Who sent Apophis?"
"That it was, but you also claimed you disliked New Atlantis. As to who sent Apophis, I do not know." Tyr says as he eases on up, giving Rufus something to think about for the meantime. "In the end, while we were having this conversation, I have increased the strength of your ichor from within. You should feel different, boy. But you have no yet earned what I thought you were ready for, but here are a few trinkets, still the same." he says, bringing out Rufus' shiny new toys!
"It doesn't matter whether or not I like New Atlantis. It… wasn't /right/ to simply let it destroy the city," Rufus quietly answers. The announcement that he is now a demigod doesn't really seem to bring the man any particular joy. He stares at Tyr for a long moment, regret on his face and in his eyes. "Thank you for the gifts," he says quietly. "I will try to put them to good use."
"I know you will. Now don't go around killing people without thinking about the consequences!" Tyr says with a hearty laugh trying to raise his son's spirits before he suddenly disappears in a rainbow sparkly light.
Rufus looks grimly onwards, watching his father disappear. He bows his head a little, cheeks flushed with another hit of shame, but he clenches his hands into fists at his sides as he stands. "Fucking Hell," he mutters to the empty air. "I just want to make you proud of me. I just want to do the right thing."
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