Megalopolis - Broken Mirrors (Everyone Invited)

Rori Hutchins


"He left me in a sewer, blind, and with a pissed off cop. And the best he could do was say sorry? No, I'll tone down the shirt then and put on actual pants but that's it!"


Rori shuts the door, throwing on a pair of old, torn jeans instead of the leggings and a black tee. A choker necklace to top it off and she throws on a general assortment of make up as her hair hardens.


Grabbing her cigarettes and a jacket, she sighs. "Lets go find her"
 
Alicia Danielson


Well, at least the pants are an improvement. Part of Alicia's mind wanted to laugh at Rori's attitude, but her stomach twisted as she followed the woman up the stairs. Someone who had raised such a sweet person couldn't be that bad, right? Right. Right... Well, anyway, if she was angry or combative, at least Alicia would be able to talk to her. Probably. Right. Like the last time you talked to a McKinnery. That went fantastic. She wanted to curse her brain for actively trying to sabotage any sort of confidence she had that this was going to end just fine. It doesn't help that Aiden blinded a cop and his girlfriend and ran. That could only turn out well.


It was just a mess, and there was so much that could possibly turn out badly, and people would get hurt... and fretting at her worries like a stray thread of a sweater would only unravel her completely. She took a deep breath to calm down. Of course, this silent battle was, in fact, silent. All Rori would have noticed was an especially quiet Alicia, which wasn't that out-of-the-ordinary as it was. As they emerged into the morning light, the younger woman glanced around.


"If I remember it right, he said his mom lives in the apartments on West Styles Avenue. Er, 2218 or 2219," she paused mid-step and her brow furrowed as she tried to recall what Aiden had. "No, it's definitely 2218. His older brother's place is right beside hers, so his is 2219." Alica's face broadened for a moment in triumph before fading back into a look of mild concern, "Alright, let's go see if she knows where he is." She followed behind Rori, wracking her brain to try and recall where West Styles Avenue was.
 
Rori Hutchins


Eyes rolled as Alicia started leading her away from West Styles and towards the old Garment districts. Rori never understood how people who lived in the city didn't know their way around. It was a simple grid with a couple natural features and parks thrown in. It didn't help that each section of the city had it's own sounds and vibrations. The hammering of industrial zones, the chatter of highly populated area, everything and everywhere was unique.


"Alicia, it's this way. I don't really feel keen on walking through that bit of the city tonight so..." Whistling loudly, Rori hails a cab. A yellow mini van pulling over. "How about I spring for a cab? That work for ya?"
 
Alicia Danielson


A blush crept up Alicia's cheeks as she turned to face Rori. An embarrassed smile crossed her face as she attempted to saunter back to where Rori was gesturing to a cab, failing her attempt at playing it off miserably. "If by 'tonight' you mean this morning, then sure." Be lamer, Alicia. She stood awkwardly beside the older woman, fiddling with the edge of her shirt as a cab was hailed and they got in.

Unless there's anything else Rori wants to say, I'm thinking next scene is them knocking at Ma McKinnery's door. Objections?
 
Alicia Danielson


After a cab-ride in slightly-awkward silence later, Alicia climbed out of the cab, relieved to be fresh air once more. She bounded into the apartment complex, catching the door as a person left and holding it for Rori. A quick second after Rori had entered the complex, Alicia had pressed the elevator call-bell, assuming that Rori would prefer to ride rather than walk. She caught herself fidgeting nervously in the elevator and forced herself to take a deep breath and still her movements.


A few minutes later and Alicia was knocking politely on 2281, "Mrs. McKinnery?"
 
'Ma' McKinnery


The door opened and the two young women were confronted by a woman in her late fifties or early sixties. She wore a sober black dress that contrasted starkly with her fiery red hair, which was liberally streaked with grey. As she looked from the neat and dapper Alicia to the outlandish Rori, her eyebrows arched and she said, "Well now, moi lasses, Oi wondered when ye'd turn up on Ma's doorstep. Bring yersel's away in."


Without any pause, she turned and lead the way down a long narrow corridor. On one side, two doors opened to bedrooms that sported bunkbeds, home-made from scrap wood. The only distinguishing feature between a girl's bedroom and a boy's was that one of the bunkbeds was liberally plastered with stickers of ponies and flowers and the other had hand-drawn racecars on it. A third and final door was closed on the corridor, and then it ended in a small lounge and dining room area. The dining room is only a breakfast bar away from a busy looking kitchen, in which food for an army appears to be on the boil. Three large kettles sit on the burners of the stove, lids rattling gently and filling the room with the warm scents of potato broth, beef stew and lamb broth.


This room was unbelievably cramped, with two elderly leather couches slumped against adjacent walls and a ramshackle coffee table between them. There was a tiny TV set in the farthest corner and a large dining table with a huge number of mismatched chairs. The rest of the room appeared to be dominated by copious numbers of framed photographs of various blonde- or red-haired children of different ages, and in various stages of undress. There were several pictures of kids sat in bathtubs. Another corner of the room played court to a shrine for Maria Immaculata, over which a black shroud had been placed and candles lit and placed beside. There are two red-haired girls, about ten years-old identical from the frizzy hair on their heads to the tidy blue slipper-socks on their feet sat at the dining table, school books spread out before them and what appears to be a twelve year old version of Aiden slouching across one of the couches with a book in his hands. Ma McKinnery scowls at the boy and snaps, "Sean McKinnery! How many toimes have Oi told ye, don't be sprawlin' aal ovver th' couches? An' here we are, wit' unexpected guests an' aal, an' there ye are? Slouchin' loike a layabout wretch. Ye'll come t' no good, ye hear me? Ye'll be no better 'n yer brother, Lord have mercy on 'im. Now get ye t' yer room an' tidyin' afore dinner, an' none o' yer lip!", she turned as she heard the ghost of a giggle from the two girls at the table, "An' ye lasses can away wit' ye too!"


All three children sprang up and rushed out of the lounge, scattering around Alicia and Rori in their efforts to stay beyond arm's reach of their Ma. Ma McKinnery rounded on her visitors and fixed them with a powerful glare.


"Oi'll be guessin' ye be come t' see me about me misbegotten middle son, God preserve 'im.", she said, crossing herself and touching the shroud on the shrine, "Oi knew he'd bring naught but evil on 'imself wit' his gallivantin' an' misbehavin'. Now he's a criminal on th' run, a murderer! An' of a copper, too! Oh, merciful Lord Above, why must ye try me wit' such an evil child? Can Oi get ye a cup o' tea, lasses?"
 
Rori Hutchins


For an only child, moving into a situation in where multiple family members had to share such cramped quarters was a strange enough sight to keep her momentarily quiet. Her mouth had been open to say something right when Ma McKinnery opened the door and drowned even a living speaker out.


Rori follows along the hall, taking in the sounds. From the scuffling of feet to the bubbling of pots, it was all delightful for Rori. Sounds had a way of getting to her, all the various pressure waves like a signature for every place in the world. This place was alive, living and breathing. Just like the city itself, everything was humming. The one thing she felt put off by though, especially upon entering the kitchen was the unbearable heat. Combined human body warmth and the fire pouring from the stove made it feel like one of her club shows. At least there she was above the mass of human heat, here she was in the thick of it.


The show continued as Rori took a seat, only being awoken from the barrage of scents and sounds by Ma's decision that Aiden was guilty.


"Woah woah woah, Oi' don't think tha' Aiden" Rori coughs, stopping her parroting of the McKinnery matriarch "I don't think that Aiden did anything wrong. He was with me or at work constantly and there is no way he'd do anything like that!" Her fingers drum out a rather prog beat "And tea would be lovely..."


Call it ignorance but so far she hadn't seen what all the fuss was about Aiden's mom. Hell, Lugh spent the nights decimating the criminal underclass yet mention his mom once and he goes pale. She runs a hand through her hair and settles on a piercing she had done herself on her brow, playing with the little ring.
 
Alicia Danielson


Alicia smiled at Sean and the twins before taking her own seat on the couch, tucking her legs together at the ankles. She gently waved off the offer of tea and glanced over at Rori at the flash of Irish accent before turning to the pictures that consumed the room, smiling softly as she looked them over. Her eyes turned back as she met Aiden's mother's gaze head-on. "Mrs. McKinnery, thank you for letting us into your home. My name is Alicia, and this is Rori." Her face lost its smile as she cleared her throat, "Yes, we're here about Aiden. Although I will agree with you that he is not the most forethinking of men I've ever met. But you raised Aiden."


She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "You know him better than that. You know he's not evil, as wild as he is and that he'd never deliberately hurt, let alone kill someone. And I think you know where he is. Mrs. McKinnery, Aiden is my...friend. And I'd dearly love to help him, but I can't unless I can talk to him. I'm sorry for my rudeness, but I am very worried."
 
'Ma' McKinnery


Ma went through to the kitchen, shaking her head, "Well, Oi'll say dis; Aiden surely has a God-given gift roight dere. 'Is ability t' make firm 'n' fast friends roight off th' bat."


She returned quickly with a silver tea tray, which showed little use and more than a little tarnish. Upon it was a delicate teapot, excessively ornate and decorated with hand-painted roses, three matching teacups and saucers as well as a matching creamer which sported a hairline crack down the side and a mismatched sugar bowl which showed a faded picture and banner title depicting 'Lough Eske Castle'. It's obvious that, even in it's poor condition, this is 'the best china', strictly reserved for guests. She placed the tray down, set the cups right-side up, and poured out, the unmistakeable scent of Bewley's Irish tea filled the air. She placed a cup in front of Rori and another before Alicia and left them to cream and sugar their own drinks. She then went and turned around a chair from the dining table and sat on it, lowering herself into the seat with a pained expression.


"Aye, ye seem loike noice", she paused as she looked over Rori's hairstyle and piercings skeptically, "gals an' aal, but ye shouldnae be so taken in b' Aiden's smooth-talkin' ways. Oi swear, dat boy, takes af'er 'is Da, so he does. So very charmin', specially t' th' lasses. 'Twas always th' lasses as came knockin' on th' door f'r Aiden when 'e was a lad o' Sean's age.", she replied, taking a sip of black tea, to punctuate her speech, "Seems I got a phone call from Father O'Reilly over at Saint Patrick's, tellin' Aiden's tossed 'imself all over th' altar cloth. Made an awful mess, white linen stains terrible, so it does."


She glanced back into the kitchen where the three kettles bubbled, "Jes' happens that it's moi turn t' be assistin' th' soup kitchen at th' church t'noight. Oi'm thinkin' 'bout takin' some ol' cast-off clothes o' Aiden's. T' donate t' those as ain't got a thread t' wear, loike."


Her expression was as unfathomable as a Sphinx's as she spoke.
 
Rori Hutchins


Her hands envelop the teacup, savoring the warmth. A helping of cream and sugar with the secret wish for the drink to be half as 'Irish' as this family. A twinge of irritation in her eye as Ma' McKinnery tried to downplay things again, as well as catching the judgmental look in her direction.


Her fuming anger had started to build up a bit before Aiden's mother dropped his location. "St. Patricks? Like a Church? And you are going over there now?! Well shit, we can just tag along then. I need to talk to him and get this situation sorted out." Rori sets the untouched drink down, standing up. " 'nuff sitting around, let's go!" Her voice punctuates the 'go', coming out as a harsh little bark. Somewhat like a terrier trying to herd children along.
 
Alicia Danielson


Alicia nudged Rori with her elbow, glaring at her. "Don't be rude, and watch your language," she jerked her head in the direction of the children's rooms. She turned back to Ma McKinnery, "So he's at a church. So he's safe, for now. That's good. Would it be possible for us to go with you? I know you're worried about him, so are we as you can probably tell. I promise we aren't silly schoolgirls just chasing after him because he is Irish and handsome. I just want to know what really happened, and if he's alright. He's my friend."
 
'Ma' McKinnery


"Set yersel' down, lass. Th' stews arenae cooked yet.", Ma responded, her voice suddenly barking out with whiplash speed "Aye, 'e's safe. Fer th' time bein'. But it won't last, Oi tell ye. Father O'Reilly, 'e's traditional Irish Cat'olic, but Monsignor Tavistock? 'E's a political toipe. Th' minute someone goes t' 'im an' says one o' 'is priests is harborin' a fugitive, he'll pass down th' order t' rescind Sanctuary from 'im. Den th' police'll have th' right t' go an' drag 'im off as they please."


She downed her tea in the same manner as a man finishing off the last of his beer, then slowly clawed her way back to her feet, her joints audibly creaking as she got herself vertical. She went through to the cramped kitchen and, taking out a spoon, tested each of the gently bubbling kettles. Her face pinched in concentration and she took out a pot of salt and carefully sprinkled an amount into each kettle, stirring it in with the ladles that sat within each one.


"Dat should be jes' roight.", she sighed, nodding, "Well, if yer wantin' t' see me misbegot child, yer best be grabbin' one o' dese kettles. Dem poor folks ain't goin' t' feed themsel' wit'out dese."


She turned off the gas and opened the window to let the accrued steam escape. almost instantly the cool air from outside caused the moisture to settle on the faded patterns of the tiled walls and the bleak single-glazed windows.
 
Earlier that day


Eamonn Ryan


He pulled up outside 'Patch's' as he used to call it, and let his engine idle a bit. Looking up at the old bell tower with its mock-gothic spire and crenellations reminded him of the times he and his mates used to dare each other to scale up the lined old stonework to touch the tongue of the gargoyle that leered out from under the eaves. In the years he'd lived here, no-one had ever managed to get up there, though he remembered one young kid had nearly made it but slipped and fell, breaking his leg. After that, the diocese had erected anti-climb railings, downward curving spiky bars, that prevented anyone from ever getting more than a couple of feet off the ground.


He cut the engine and climbed out, finally getting a good look at his old church. While the years had been good to Eamonn, they certainly hadn't been for Patch's. He could see the lead on the roof was coming away and the beautiful stained glass windows had been boarded over. To protect them maybe? or had time or vandals taken their toll on the images of the Stages of the Cross that had been displayed. Eamonn suddenly felt a compulsion for a donation to the restoration fund. An anonymous one, and not through the diocese council. He remembered meeting the Monsignor, who was it?, Tavistock now?, at a political function. The man had been pressing skin with some of the movers and shakers of the Mayor's office, even going so far as to flirt with the Mayor herself. He'd also seen the flashy limo with the personalised number plate he'd left in later that evening, after a skinful of good whiskey and a copious amount of thousand-dollar-a-glass wine.


No, any donation would be made without ceremony and directly to O'Reilly himself. The old priest was canny enough to know how to cash the cheque for the best return and how to use the money without it being obvious to the diocese that he'd gotten a windfall.


Eamonn climbed the stairs and went in through the front doors, to see Eve with O'Reilly and another guy who looked every bit the retired cop.


"Well, you look like sh-, death warmed over, darlin'.", he smiled at Rourke, as he dipped his fingers into the font beside him reflexively and crossed himself. He nodded to the father and the old cop warmly.
 
Lt. Eve Roarke, MPD


She glanced up even before he spoke, even as he walked into the church. She smiled at him. He was so darn good looking she wondered what he was doing with her.


"Well, you look like sh-, death warmed over, darlin'."


"I feel it. You heard about the murder last night? Some ass-" she glanced at the priest, "one went onto the news and named a suspect. I'm the fu- investigating officer and I didn't say sh- jack. So I go after him, needing to have a chat with him and damned if when I catch up to him he blasts me. I just woke up and when I get my hands on him I'll wrong his scrawny neck."
 
Aiden McKinnery


Sneaking around the altar, Aiden cringed as he listened to Roarke explain about trying to arrest him. 'Talk to him', my arse!, he thought to himself, the only talkin' she woulda done woulda been wit shiny metal bracelets an' billy-clubs. Thanks, but no thanks. He hunkered down behind the altar and kept as still and quiet as he could.
 
Rori Hutchins


The sharp and fast response to her wanting to get a move on really appeared from nowhere in the woman, Rori didn't feel the sharp intake followed by the strong compression of the diaphragm that normally preludes a snap response like that. It was irritating and out of place. Not abnormal but 'Ma' must have had a hell of a singing voice.


Rori does however, shut up. Waiting for the woman to return and making the blah blah blah face, motions included. Only thing missing was a mocking hand gesture but safety and subtlety won the day.


Her arms cross and she rocks back in her seat before sitting up. Tempted to go find a computer and punch in the church's name, Rori figured it would probably behoove her to help Ma McKinnery if just to win some brownie points.


"Right, which one do I carry. You parked out front or does this place have a garage?"
 
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