AU: Chicago 1926

[aeons_crackshot]

Eventually, the jungle was left behind and the FreakAngels and the members of the Æon Society made their way to Æon's headquarters in Chicago.

The headquarters looks, to the casual observer, much like the home of someone who is very well to do. It is, of course. Maxwell Anderson Mercer is a very wealthy man, philanthropist or no, after all. It's only when you look deeper and realize how solidly built the place is and that certain extra security measures are in place that it begins to reveal itself for what it is.

Namely, the home base of people who, not to put too fine a point on it, quite a lot of dangerous people want dead.

There is an island of calm in the hustle and bustle, the Archives. Every piece of research, every note, every adventure of the Society's members is in here...somewhere.

Comments

[aeons_crackshot]

Without consciously thinking about it, she moves to hold his hand in an attempt at comfort.

"Or tame the fear rather than let it devour you," Annabelle says with a wry smile. "I've had to do that, myself." There is a reason she's armed all the time, you see.

[leadinghome]

Well, he is literally armed all the time.

The hand-holding is a surprise, but not a bad one: Connor squeezes her hand lightly, smiling. "Thanks."

He will not let go unless Annabelle takes it back.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle did not gain anything quite that built in, alas. She's capable of improvising, but killing the bad guy with a fork gets even more horrified looks than telekinesis.

She squeezes his hand in return. "You're welcome."

She's not planning on letting go.

Eventually, they'll wind up here

Annabelle's guns get a few glances, but she's putting on her best "I'm harmless, really," act. No one seems inclined to bother them, anyway.

[leadinghome]

That makes Connor stare a bit, surprised. "Oh, wow." Other people are forgotten, he is in an awesome place, holding the hand of a pretty girl.

Not something that happens often to him.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle just grins. This isn't the sort of thing that happens to her very often either.

Because the universe does, sometimes, follow the laws of film, the sun breaks through the cloud cover and comes down through the stained glass dome.

[leadinghome]

"It is beautiful here." Connor speaks low, awed. "And quiet." Mostly, at the time of the day.

"It must be really noisy when it is crowded."

[aeons_crackshot]

"It can get a bit loud," Annabelle admits. "But this is a good time of day to come, if you want quiet."

"I'm glad you like it," she adds with a faint blush.

[leadinghome]

"Thanks." He squeezes her hand, smiling. "Okay, what next? I guess I'm ready to see more of the city."

And face the staring crowds.

[aeons_crackshot]

"We could head down to the docks?" Annabelle suggests.

[leadinghome]

"It sounds good." A place where people should be busy and not look at them too much.

Before they depart, he changes sides to rest his hand, taking her other one.

A minute later he will realize how nonchalantly he did that, and blush.

[aeons_crackshot]

Very busy. Chicago is a major center for shipping goods both legal and not so legal.

Annabelle blushes too, but there's no sign whatsoever that she minds it. Rather the opposite, actually.

They make their way down the streets toward the water.

[leadinghome]

Two teenagers, holding hands and blushing.

No, nothing special about that, why?

Connor is distracted from embarrassment by the cries of the bird life, and the sounds of boats and water.

[aeons_crackshot]

It does seem to help them blend in a little. Other than one or two bemused looks from older couples, no one seems to be paying them much mind.

A group of men are manhandling a crane hauling heavy crates off of one of the boats. There's the usual shouting and joking in a polyglot of foreign tongues going on when something goes wrong.

Something shifts just a little, causing the crates to come loose and plummet toward the workers below...

[leadinghome]

There is no time to think, just to act: Connor's eyes light up, and violet light flashes out from him towards the workers.

Together, the Freakangels can defend against autocannon, mortars and worse.

Alone, Connor can not hope to stop all the crates, but he does not need to: the light pulls the workers together and becomes a radiant shield over a small area, where it will have to absorb less impact.

[aeons_crackshot]

The cries of fear and panic turn to cries of surprise and relief as the purple light does its work.

The crates hit the domed shield and slide down the sides to crash into the ground.

Pretty much everybody is staring open mouthed at this point.

[leadinghome]

Way too obvious from where rescue came... Connor is glowing with power, even as he releases the shield and the light tarts to fade.

In his world and time, the screaming would start any second...

[aeons_crackshot]

Ah, but he isn't in his world and time.

The first person to snap out of their shock is a middle aged woman. As it happens, she was bringing her husband, one of the people Connor just saved, lunch.

She's headed his direction, but she's not angry. Far from it, she's crying in relief. If he can make any sense of the rapid fire Italian she's thanking him profusely. That, clearly it was God's work that someone with his gift would be here to perform this miracle.

[leadinghome]

Connor does not understand the language, but he can feel the emotions, and that makes him more surprised than anything.

No fear.

No hate.

Someone is actually thanking him fr being who he is.

The boy could really not be more surprised. "I... really, you do not have to thank me."

[aeons_crackshot]

Sadly, the lady in question does not seem inclined to heed his request.

Connor is going to be receiving a hug from the rather matronly woman, who's still thanking him.

She turns to Annabelle, and rattles off a question in Italian. Annabelle grins and translates, "She wants to know if you like cake."

The crowd is starting to recover now, but there is no fear or hate in them either. Surprise, awe, joy, relief and curiosity rising like a wave.

[leadinghome]

"I... gack... ah yes?" Too much feeling, too many emotions all at once, Connor is trying to recover his mental defenses.

[aeons_crackshot]

She relays this to the woman, who has thankfully let go. She can pick up from his body language that he's uncomfortable right now, so she decides that some crowd control is in order.

Annabelle, with the aid of hand gestures, manages to get across the idea that he's feeling a bit too overwhelmed to deal with all these people right now. The matronly woman nods, pats him on the hand, and strides back toward the crowd.

"I have a feeling we're going to be inundated with baked goods," Annabelle says with a smile. "We should probably skedaddle while Mrs. Marcoli runs interference with your admirers."

[leadinghome]

"It does not help the others yelling at me." Connor sighs, and replies so 'loud' Annabelle might even 'hear' it.

Stick it up your noses, you wankers, will you? The knee-jerk, semi-panic reaction seem to be intense. "Let's go." He takes Annabelle's hand and rushes away. Anywhere, just away from the crowd.

[aeons_crackshot]

She does hear it, as it happens. "They're giving you trouble?" she asks as they weave their way through back streets and alleys away from the crowd.

[leadinghome]

"Afraid of what might happen." He sighs, tugging Annabelle along until they get to somewhere less crowded.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle nods in understanding.

Thankfully, there are green and open places in Chicago.

There are no crowds here, and it's very peaceful.