The Gathering Storm

Posted on Tue Feb 7th, 2023 @ 23:42 by Robert Closeley & Cynhelm Warden

Chapter: Prologue: Dawn of Avalon
Location: Cafe, London
Timeline: Saturday early afternoon, 26th of September, 1992
2135 words - 4.3 OF Standard Post Measure

There was a rage bubbling inside. If he felt he would get away with it Robert would walk straight into parliament and finish the job Fawkes had failed so many years ago. Instead he sat at a table in a London cafe, across from the only trustworthy connection he still had with the UK military. "Was this you?" He pushed the paper closer, temper barely under control, the front page showed a grainy picture of a giant robot punching its way into a Scottish train station.

The art of making a proper pot of tea was not something that had made its way across the pond as far as any experience had taught Warden. It was a minor gripe in the grand scheme of things that lead to discontentment but such observations did permit a degree of gratitude when he found himself surrounded by fellow patriots who understood. His colleagues certainly didn't, too obsessed with their stimulants or whatever booze they could funnel into themselves in an effort to make tomorrow a palatable prospect. Warden didn't drink hard liquor. He did enjoy a proper Darjeeling, however.

On this particular occasion, he paused mid-stir to glance down at the newspaper currently being thrust at him in a vague attempt to forge Damocles' sword from its headline, and pulled an expression that was best described as a shrug with his lips. "Doesn't look like me." He set the teaspoon down. He knew what the younger man meant but there was a way Warden chose to be spoken to and very little room to manoeuvre around a reinterpretation of his preferences.

"You know what I mean." Robert sighed before taking a sip from his tea. When that didn't really prompt a response either he had no choice but to reword his request, "Do you happen to know who's responsible for this?" He tapped the out of focus giant robot again. "From what we can tell, it was trying to apprehend a kid. Plant powers. Not a threat other than the fact he had a bit of a 'protect mother nature' streak."

"So I read."

A succinct reply, interrupted by an experimental sip of tea, was indicative enough of two things; firstly, that Closely wasn't telling Warden anything he didn't already know. Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, that what Warden did know, he'd gleaned from the same sources as the younger man.

"If you're asking have they had us up against huge automatons in preparation for inaugural field work, then you can stop." The man's steely gaze found its target as he delivered something that was actually of use. "Not our handiwork. And I'd say from the general sense of peeved indignation around the office, not authorised either."

"So one of the MI Sections then?" While Robert did consider MI13 agents traitors to their own kind he couldn't imagine them going so loud in their efforts to suppress them. It wasn't really their style. Then again, if it hadn't been for the intervention of a group of mutant powered vigilantes they might’ve gotten away with it more cleanly since it seemed just rotten luck for whomever was behind it that they happened to pick a place in the middle of nowhere in the highlands only to stumble across a high concentration of formidable and trained mutants. "What do we know about the robot itself? Any familiar military tech being used?"

A slow dip of his head to the side gave Warden the impression of speculation, at least. "Depends who you ask. We've had no formal briefing, which means they're still figuring out what to tell us, and then what to tell us to do." There was another pause and then the soldier sat back in his chair, taking his tea with him. "I can tell you this much; I don't know of a facility in this country big enough to turn out something that size in secret. This isn't the States; no convenient desert that nobody cares to pay any attention to."

Robert nodded at that, to him it was immediately clear that it was the yanks. "Even then, they'd need government approval to operate within 'the Empire'" He referred to the UK with utmost disdain. "So, who? Tories?" He then leaned forward. "We need to send them a message. A strongly worded one. That this cannot stand. That we will not simply roll over and play dead."

"As soon as I am handed any relevant information, I will update you." Warden, so often a man of pensive silence, wasn't known for speaking with undue authority. Which meant that, when he did speak with confidence, he was usually right. Until then, he had far more patience than the man sitting opposite him. "It's not as if sending giant robots after kids is anyone's best attempt at remaining unobtrusive. Someone is bound to claim responsibility, even if they are only the press-approved publicity team." The stoic man sipped his tea. "Then you will have a viable target."

There was already a great many viable targets in Robert's mind. narrowing it down would be nice but the whole thing would create a response from the Rangers. He felt that now was the time to act. To fuel the rage that was building in the country. To tap into the fear and anger from the mutant community. To declare what they wanted to declare and find like-minded people to fight by their side for the justice that had eluded mutant-kind for so long. "That would be greatly appreciated." At least he knew also what to keep an eye out for. The initial government response had been one of denial and 'investigation needed', something he clearly wasn't content to accept.

From the confines of his naturally impassive introspection, Warden watched the other man's displeasure play across his entire stance, as palpable and volatile as any explosive catalyst the soldier had wielded in the pursuit of ongoing clarity. If one were to condense his career down to its very essence, Warden was a living, breathing information exchange. Sometimes the message was delivered a little more forcefully than others, sometimes it was more about posing a question before demanding an answer. Often it didn't involve a whole lot of permission or cooperation, just the wherewithal to work around stubborn resistance. Only infrequently did his job required him to translate the information he retrieved, or delivered; the exchange went in both directions. Absence of requirement did not dull the tenacity for interpretation, however. Warden had thoughts. Opinions.

He kept them very close to his chest.

Similarly, as he reached inside his jacket, he spared only a raised eyebrow for the sudden shift of suspicion in Closeley's expression. A file, several inches thick, landed on the table in front of the man, a far cry from whatever concealed threat the other mutant had suddenly decided to worry about. Robert was on edge. The pair of them trusted each other as far as a certain line in the sand and that was about it.

"In the meantime, a prospect. Won't be easy to secure but fits the profile you mentioned." Warden dipped his head to one side. "Perhaps a little too well."

Robert pulled the file closer and pushed it into a messenger bag. Warden was good, his intel crisp. His curiosity was immediately piqued but he knew better than to open up a file like that in the middle of a cafe. "Too good to be true, as in double agent?" It was the only thing he was concerned with, perhaps it would be a good idea to attract a mindreader to the cause so they could more properly screen against that sort of stuff. One of the creeds for people like him was 'if it's too good to be true, it usually is', and those that didn't believe that always made excellent marks for his scams.

The older man seemed to weigh this possibility up for a moment, which was cause enough to believe it wasn't completely unlikely. Nevertheless, he settled on, "As in currently buried behind the exclusion line." It was Warden's term for the segregation of mutants least likely to be swayed by Robert's cause. "It remains to be seen whether she is there by choice or lack of alternative." And, since the soldier didn't tend to waste his own time with lost causes, it was easily implied what his opinion was on the matter. "Just read the file, you'll understand."

Robert gave a curt nod. "So. I've been looking into this New Cresthill attack. As I'm sure you lot have." His resources were a bit more scarce than that of Cynhelm's unit. "What's so interesting about a no name town in the lochs of the highlands that requires a giant robot?" He held up a hand to stop an immediate reaction, which knowing Warden wouldn't have come anyway, "What's more, what's so interesting about this same no name town that a whole team of mutants come to the rescue within minutes?"

"Mutants crop up anywhere," Warden pointed out, his tone neat and tidy and as non-helpful as it typically was when Robert started prodding to see how far he could push their relationship. "We can't know how long they'd been tracking that thing."

As with everything he did, Warden stopped short of outright lying. He employed deceit only when it was absolutely imperative, finding the effort too much to keep track of to make too prolific of a habit out of it. There were details he was missing and his ignorance tested his patience in much the same way it was irritating Robert, despite the pair of them having vastly different ways of presenting it. The information that he did possess lead to several likely outcomes as far as he could tell but Warden wasn't a man who based his life on speculation. There were conversations to have first, at least one of which would start out as You've been busy.

"I guess you may be right. Any idea as to who the group was? What they call themselves?" Robert wasn't quite done prodding for information yet. If they had just faced off against the mechanised menace it would probably be reasonable to believe they might be persuaded to join the Rangers in their endeavours. It was an avenue to pursue at least.

"I don't think they've released a press statement yet." All his suspicions aside, even Warden wasn't privy to the identity of every member. Not yet. "Only a matter of time though," he continued, a rumination murmured across the surface of his drink before he took another sip. His low tone almost made it seem like a warning directed elsewhere. "They either speak up or the tabloids will make up something for them."

All Robert heard was that there was still an opportunity for him to tie in to the unrest that was caused due to the incident. It would help them gain a foothold and while he knew already that the government wouldn't immediately give in to their demands he also knew that he had a small crew built up that would see it through to the end with him. "There will be a seat at the table for you when Sherwood is established." He finished his tea and gave the man across from him a curt nod before getting up, ready to disappear into the Saturday crowd of London.

Warden watched the younger mutant leave, in no rush to follow suit despite the fact that it was far better they not be seen leaving together in any case. Gradually, his gaze lowered to the newspaper Closeley had left behind and the soldier retreated to the complexities of his private thoughts. Walking the line was made infinitely more difficult when it veered off-course as wildly as this. He slowly reached out to turn the paper around right-ways and tapped a syncopated repetition with a single index finger against the blurred image made even more indistinct by excessive zoom.

Very busy.

The expelling of air as a harried sigh of resignation was followed by several faster taps in quick succession before Warden rallied. A hand thrust into his pocket drew out enough money to cover the tab and a sizeable tip, tucked under the tea saucer as was his typical means of avoiding unnecessary small talk. Grabbing the newspaper and pulling his jacket from the back of the chair, the mutant stood a moment to consider the movement of the crowd and opted to allow it to absorb him in the opposite direction to Robert's departure, one gloved hand buried deep in the recesses of his coat pocket.

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