Log:You Have to Have Hope

Hope Must Die 2015/04/12 Porter Paragon 6

Starguard Security

Cells are really, really boring. After making his daily mark on the wall, POrter really has nothing else to do. Well, eat, use the (very public) toilet, and sleep. The general lack of coffee helps with that, though. He's currently lounging on his cot, though isn't actually asleep. Just lying there, staring at the ceiling.

It's hard to tell from within the cell, but Para lets Porter know it's evening and time for Kysmette's bath. ((She really misses you. -I- really miss you.)) Kysmette is being cranky and crying, so Para is singing softly to her. And through their connection, to Porter.

Well, while he doesn't have much to physically do, it's nice for him to be occupied. And here the guards probably thought he was just bored, lost in his own thoughts. Luckily, he has Para's thoughts to be lost in, too. They're much better. ((I miss you, too. Both of you. Everything's Ok?)) It's only the 285th time he's asked today. Because he's worried, too, about both of them. Especially now that he fears Despair attacked the public just to get him locked up.

((Everything's fine, Sweetie. Just a cranky little baby. I'm about to give her a bubble bath. She is telling me she's unhappy with the funny faces I try to make.)) Para starts sticking out her tongue, puffing up her cheeks, crossing her eyes. Well, attempting to cross her eyes. She can't quite do it. Kysmette is not amused. ((I'm not as good as you are at this. How are you doing, Sweetie?)) She transmits a hug as she cuddles Kysmette and tries to share the feeling.

Somewhere outside, he can hear the marching of several footsteps down the hallway.

Porter chuckles softly, mostly to himself, but at Para and Kyssie. Then he hears the footsteps. ((Sweetie, you're way better than me at alot of things. Like being a mom.)) He sends a warm fuzzy mental hug, then adds, ((Sounds like companiy's coming. Wonder if it's another drill or inspection...)) He sits up on his cot, in case the visitors are for him.

Para chuckles back. ((Well. Then if I am the better mom of the two of us, you are the better dad.)) She returns the mental hug. ((Oh? Company?))

Moments later, a man in a casual suit that must be from the wholesale section comes into view, protected by two Starguard Agents. "James Porter?" the man inquires.

Porter perks and stands up when the man and guards stop in front of his cell. "Hi. That's me." He pauses, not sure how best to go from there. He finally decides on, "This is a good visit, I hope?"

((Guy in a suit. Doesn't look fancy enough to be a lawyer, really. And it's not Mr. Hardwick.))

((Hmmm. I wonder what he wants. Oh, Kyssie, not in mommy's face!)) Para giggles and says the last bit aloud as much as thinks it as Kysmette splashes sudsy water in her face.

"I'm Detective McCall. I'm here to ask you a few questions concerning the incident in question," replies the man in the suit. He motions to the guards and they step forward and enter the keycode to open Porter's cell. "The guards are here just as a precaution." He nods to the agents. "Take him to interrogation room 3, please." He steps aside so the guards can do their job.

((Oh. Detective. Here to ask me questions...)) Porter isn't sure whether this is a good or a bad thing. Not yet. He nods. "Ok, Detective." And another nod to the guards as he waits to be escorted. He knows the drill. Sort of. He hasn't been in that particular room yet.

The guards step up to cuff Porter for precautions. As if that would stop his powers if he decided to fight. But they're armed with some serious looking blasters as a precaution. Afterwards, they escort Porter and deposit him in an interrogation room with a table and a large mirror in front of him and lock him in. He's left waiting for several minutes.

((About time! Perhaps they'll be able to clear you of any wrong doing since you're completely innocent.)) Para finishes rinsing and bathing a squirming Kysmette, then wraps her up in a blanket and starts drying her off. ((There. At least Kysmette is all clean.)) She gives Kysmette a kiss on the head once. ((One from me.)) She gives her another kiss. ((And one from daddy.))

Finally, the door opens again and the detective walks in with a case file under his arm. He closes the door and tosses the folder on the table in front of his chair, then takes a seat and eyes Porter silently.

Porter isn't going to fight. He just hopes nothing unintentionally weird happens to make them think he does. Especially since he can't stop a smile at the clean Kyssie and kisses. He sits, waiting as patiently as he can, then nods to the DEtective when he comes in. Looks expectantly. And waits s'more.

"Does something amuse you, Mr. Porter? A woman is dead, and you're the prime suspect," Detectice McCall leans in a little and flips open the case file. He places his fingers on three pictures of the scene and slides them over to Porter.

Well, that kills his smile immediately and he frowns, shaking his head. "No, Detective. I was just thinking of my daughter while I was waiting. She makes me smile." He hesitates a bit before lowering his eyes to the pictures. Something tells him he's not really going to want to see them.

They're stills and shots from the camera phones of someone in the restaurant. And sure enough, there's Porter. Only, he's ...flying? Or hovering, out the window of the restaurant, with a familiar gun in his hand. There's chaos and people fleeing, and a woman lying on the ground, dead, with a young blonde-haired man trying to help her behind a table that had been tipped over for cover.

"Do you have anything to say about these photos?" Detectice McCall frowns slightly. "If you love your daughter and confess, plead guilty now, you may get to see her again. Perhaps the DA will only give you 15 to 20 in lew of your past heroics."

Porter frowns as he looks them over, but nods, too. "Yeah. I'm sorry to hear that she died..." His frown increases to a scowl when he spies the familiar-looking gu, "..because of HIM." He taps the photo of Despair hovering. Then he looks up. "Look, Detective, I know this guy looks alot like me. But he isn't me. I didn't know anything about it until Isaw the news. AFTER I was in here. I wasn't anywhere near there when it happened, neither. Because if Iknew about it when it was happening, I would've been there. And if I was there, I'd be stopping him. And if I was there..." He stops to sigh. "Maybe nobody would've got hurt. I DO love my daughter, and Para. Alot. This guy already tried to kill Para once, and I don't know what he wants to do with our daughter. I stopped him last time. He's after her, or them. And the only reason I can think of why he did this is to get me here, so I can't stop him the next time."

"Para?" Detective McCall flips a page in his case file. "Right. Paragon. The girlfriend. Tell me, Mr. Porter. Have you and Paragon had any fights lately? Arguments? Did she make you angry, Mr. Porter?"

Porter blinks. "No. We don't argue. I mean, we had some big misunderstandings when we were just friends, but weren't really arguments. And that was a long time ago. The worst she ever makes me is worried. For her. Cause she thinks of everybody else first."

"So then, you're telling me that you don't argue. That someone, who looks just like you, tried to kill your girlfriend and wants something to do with your daughter. And that you know nothing about the murder at Farfalle e Pesci. Is that what you're telling me?" Detective McCall pronounces in a tone that says he doesn't believe him. "Then maybe you can tell me where you -were- on the night in question."

"No, I wasn't there. Yeah, I know about the guy. Since he already attacked us before." Porter rubs his face. "Where was I? Probably at home with my girls, or grabbing coffee from the place down the street. I don't really go out all that much. Para does most of the hero stuff. Unless we have a sitter. When did this happen, exactly?" Maybe he can remember exactly what he was doing and where if he knows when.

"April 6th, 9:17pm," the Detective replies. He stands up and walks about to stretch his legs, taking a moment to glance at his reflection of the mirror. "Anything more specific? Your girlfriend doesn't make a great alibi."

Almost a week ago. Great. Porter can barely remember what he did a couple days ago, unless it involved interdimensional war, meta-villain masterminds, Kyssie giggling, or Para smiling. "Our daughter would've been in bed. So I'd've been home. Probably with Para." Ok, so an exact date and time really didn't help him much.

Detective McCall rubs his face and sighs. "Your girlfriend isn't exactly a reliable alibi. Wouldn't she say anything to protect you?"

Porter gives the detective a somewhat sheepish shrug. "Well, most people don't have a bunch of other people in their house all the time, do they? Neither do we. And..." Porter thinks about that for a moment. "Para'd do anything for me, or Kyssie. But I don't think she'd lie. She keeps her word, even to jerkbag villains she probablyu shouldn't. She's also pretty... literal? She's not good at fibbing. And she's got way better memory than me. She could tell you exactly what we were doing and were. Probably down to the second."

Porter belatedly (big surprise) realizes that HE could ask Para about then, too. ((Um, Sweetie? What was I doing on April 6th at 9:17 PM? Pretty sure I was at home. Kyssie would've been in bed. Were you there or on patrol or something?))

Back in Kysmette's room, Para is distracted for a moment from Kysmette looking adorable as she drifts off to sleep from Para's rocking her. ((9:17 PM? Accessing. Yes, I was home. Kyssie was sleeping. I wanted to wash your shirt because you spilled coffee on it, so I had just finished taking it off. You were smiling at me in that adorable way that you do. It made me happy. I smiled back and leaned in to--end 9:17 PM.)) Despite the rather mechanical end to the log in her memory banks, there's a warm fuzzy feeling felt, with some dwelling on Porter's smile. And the distinct impression that she pays particular attention to all her moments with Porter and Kysmette. Every smile, every hug, every feeling.

Detective McCall sits back down and flips a few more pages into his file. "So you say. But your one alibi has her own criminal case in the works that she claims to have -no- memory of. Interesting, isn't it?"

Porter sighs and rubs his face. "Right. Because it allegedly happened a long time ago. Before something... awful happened to her." The thought isn't pleasant, but it does revent any unintended and misinterperetable smiles from Para's thoughts to form. He pauses a little longer to think, or seem like he's thinking. Even thogh PAra already did the thinking for him. "And I was at home on the 6th, at that time. So was Para. Our daughter was asleep. Para was taking my shirt to wash it, because I'd spilled coffee on it." Maybe the DEtective will think that was the significant event that made him recall it. Really, spills are anything but significant for Porter.

Porter also sends Para an empathic hug in thanks. And just because. ((Thanks, Sweetie.))

Detective McCall still doesn't seem very satisifed with what he's hearing. "So we have an alibi who has criminal charges against her, who would testify for her boyfriend, who has murder charges against him. Can you see why I'm skeptical?" There's a knock at the door before it opens and another man in a suit walks in and shuts it behind him. "Alibi checks out, McCall. We just pulled footage from his apartment complex's security cameras showing him entering at 7:32 PM and not leaving until the next day." Detective McCall still doesn't look happy about the news.

Para sends back a warm hug. Just because. ((Always, Sweetie. Were they satisfied with my details? Will you finally be coming home soon?))

"I get it, Detective, trust me." Porter's sigh this time has some relief in it after the news. "This isn't the first time somebody's thought I did something I didn't. Or thought I was somebody else. Or any other weird thing you can think of. Weird stuff happens to me. Alot. And I'd testify for Pargon, too. Not because we're together, but because I know her. And that's not like her. Even if what I say wouldn't mean a whole lot." ((Well, they aren't too keen on trusting you, with all the stuff you're dealing with. But I guess the security cameras at the apartments caught me, with a time. So I'm hoping I'll be out soon. I miss you both.))

"I don't like it. I don't believe in coincidences," McCall announces. He clearly doesn't know Porter. But it doesn't sound like he has a choice in the matter. He points a finger in warning to Porter. "I've got my eye on you. This isn't over." He looks to the other man who looks like another detective. "Mickelson, can you get Mr. Porter his affects?" he says with definitive disappointment. Mickelson nods and steps out of the interrogation room again. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Porter. But someday, your luck is going to run out."

And that's exactly what Porter's afraid of. Or sometimes wishes for, depending on how one looks at it. Lucky's great when it's all good luck. But his definitely isn't. He just nods to McCall as the man leaves. Then sighs again.

While he waits, Para suddenly cheers up a lot and thinks out a very overjoyed ((Sweetie!)). It's followed by the impression a very real, big hug. ((I've missed you so much! I'm so glad you're home!))

Porter tries to keep his chuckle internal only as he waits. ((Yeah, I'm excited, too. They're getting me my stuff now. So I'l be home soon.)) Then there's a pause before his brain politely taps Porter on the head to point out the misinterperetation. And he blinks. ((Wait. What do you mean I'm home?!)) And happy feeling's gone.

Para's happy feeling is gone, too. Replaced with an awful sense of dread. ((Wait, what do -you- mean you'll--)) The dread is then replaced with a sudden sense of shock and intense pain. While Porter's out of the way. Without his doohickey.

Damnit! He's wrong about so many oher things. Why couldn't Porter have been wrong about Despair?! Though, technically, he didn't think of the possible motive himself. ((Para?! Para?! Are you Ok?! I'm coming!)) He stands up and slaps his hand to his hip. To hit himself in the hip., since no doohickey.

"Damnit..." Then he raises his voice at the door, to ask as politely and non-panicked as he can magae (which isn't saying much for the non-panicked part), "Um, could I get my effects soon? Please?"

Para's thoughts come together desperately as she pleads with someone. She's saying the words aloud, but Porter can hear them in her thoughts. ((Please, Porter...you don't have to do this. I know you're hurt. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I'd never hurt--Stop! Get away from her! Not my baby!)) There's panic in her thoughts, which probably doesn't help Porter's. What especially doesn't help is the sharp spike of fear for Kysmette, the attempts to move but feeling much too slow, and then something. It's an impression of loud sound and a flash. And then Porter's connection to Para drops.

The door opens and Michelson walks in with a brown paper bag. "Calm down, I've got it right here." Inside the bag should be, if all his affects are there, Porter's wallet, PDA (non-functioning, possibly), some other things here and there, and his doohickey.

Doesn't help? Doesn't help?! Oh, no, it helps Porter's panic just fine. By punching it into overdrive. He doesn't verify what's in the bag, or even open it neatly. Or explain anything to Mechelson. Porter upends the bag, grabs his doohickey, sticks it on his belt, and frantically hits a few buttons. The slaps the blinky one. Maybe he thinks he at least said "Sorry!" to him, but maybe that was just imagined. Or maybe it's still a reflex. The utter panic is pretty obvious in his frantic motions and the pace possibly more pale than Third's. And then he's gone in a flash of light and thwump of air.

FlashTHWUMP! Porter is in his living room. About two feet up in the air as well. The lights are on, but the living room is empty. Kysmette can be heard crying loudly in her room.

Porter eats the fall onto his couch without much flailing. Even if he'd landed on the table he probably wouldn't mind. "Para?!" he calls out with no ability to conceal the panic. Then he hears Kyssie, and runs for her room. For her. But somewhere, deep in his mind, he also knows that's where Para would be. She wouldn't abandon her. She'd protect her to the last... whatever she could do. But his conscious isn't going to think too hard about that to the last part right now.

Para doesn't answer. As he enters the room, there are several things amiss. Para is laying on the floor. As Porter thought, she protected to her. To the last. She's sprawled on her back with her head turned to the side and her hair matted to the side of her head with a dark, sticky substance. There's a similar dark red sticky substance on the front of her shirt around her midsection. With where she is, Porter would have to step over or around her to get to Kysmette. Which is probably exactly what Despair did to end up beside Kysmette's crib. He's smiling and reaching down to tickle the crying Kysmette.

"Shhh. It's okay, Kyssie. You're safe," he coos to Kyssie as he tucks his gun away into his coat pocket.

Porter's eyes widen at the sight of Para. But... there is no time to check. Or mourn. Or whatever he'll have to do. There is only one thing that could possibly delay that. And Despair is cooing at her. Porter's eyes go from very wide, to narrowed slits.

"Damn straight she's safe. Because you're going to get the fuck away from her. Right now." He doesn't yell, but... he leaves absolutely no room in the most open minds, no crack for fate to slip in, no possible miscontruing in his tone. Not even for his luck, or lack thereof.

In fact, there is a very strong suggestion that, were he not standing in front of Kyssie's crib, he wouldn't be standing. Anywhere. At all. Ever again.

"I know it hurts now," Despair says as he straightens up slowly. Compared to the anger from before, he looks relieved. And weary. "I remember how much it hurt then. Well, now for you. Then for me. But I'm saving you heartbreak later on. Don't you see? With Hope dead, Kyssie will never have died. I finally did something right! I didn't just avenge Kysmette; I SAVED her."

"Get. Away. From. Her." Now it's Porter's turn to harbor anger. Anguish. And probably other things, too. Practically roiling off him in waves. Could he get mad enough to do something stupid? Maybe. It IS Porter.

"I won't hurt her. I did this all for my daughter. OUR daughter," Despair tries to plead with himself. "You'll never have to go through what I did," he looks back to Kysmette with a protective expression. His face shifts from that of a loving father's to one of growing anger and regret. "Because of her," he scowls as he looks down at Para.

Porter steps over Para. Not to ignore, but to protect. Ok. Maybe avenge. And change the angle to Despair to maybe not include the crib and Kyssie. Since looks aren't going to kill, he'll try ye olde standby: his fist.

"Please," Despair tries reason. "Let me hold her. I haven't seen her in so long. I did what I had to...for her..."

Porter's fist stops, raised. With Porter still glaring. "What?! Give you a break?! Like you gave Para?!" Who he desperately wants to help, but he's not about to turn his back to DEspair. Not with Kyssie here. "You don't DESERVE to be in the same room as her! She has NOTHING to do with you! Whatever you thought you had, is gone. You threw it away. It's all your fault! Nobody else's!"

"I didn't throw away anything. And -I- kill our daughter! It was Hope!" Despair shouts back angrily. No one wants to hear that they're at fault for something like that Para definitely didn't. Especially given how his luck works. His hands ball into fists just like Porter's.

Kysmette keeps crying to let everyone know she doesn't like all the loud noises during her sleepy time.

Porter would defend Para to his last breath. Just as he would Kyssie. And Para would for either of them. That goes for Para's honor, too. Reason? Well, that was possibly never an option, anyway. Logic? This is Porter. Mercy? Well, normally Porter is pretty big on that.

Now? Not so much. The fist he might have slightly lowered in the interim is raised again. "No she didn't!" And then it's launched. For better or worse.

Porter is seeing very little in his red-hazed tunne vision. So maybe it's no surprise that he missed. The total lack of anything resembling combat training might be partly responsible, too.

Porter regains his balance after his heavy-handed swing. If at first you don't succeed... try almost the same thing? "It's all your fault!" He yells as he swing again. Maybe with a bit more control. Or luck. Or something.

Despair steps on a pacifier of Kyssie's on the floor and stumbles back with a flail, just missing Porter's swing. Lucky! "If it's my fault, it's OUR fault!" He regains his balance and clenches his fist and throws a punch back. "You're belief in Hope is what got Kyssie killed. It's YOUR fault, too!" he yells back.

Porter apparently isn't good at taking his own medicine. He's rocked as he step right into the punch. Blocks with his face. Loses a tooth. Wobbles.

Despair cringes as Porter loses a tooth. He claps a hand over his mouth, then sticks a finger in it. In the same spot, he's missing a tooth.

"We're only hurting ourselves!" Despair yells at Porter.

Porter wobbles. Blinks. Repeats several times. "No! -I- didn't attack anyone! It's not OUR anything!" Ok, he might be hypocritical, because he's swinging at Despair again.

Porter finally makes contact. Now, if anyone ever asks why he's hitting himself... he can actually give a legitimate answer: because it feels damned good right now. The Porters seem consistent, because he rocks Despair back with his own swing this time. Because he knows where to hit?

Despair's tactic is to block with his jaw. He wobbles and may lose another tooth from that. He blinks.

Porter is normally a merciful guy. A nice guy. But not now. Despair is wobbley? Good. Perfect time to hit him again.

Porter feels even more satisfaction when he hits again. Doubled when he stumbles down to the floor. And doesn't hit anything vital. Like Kyssie. Porter might even hit him again. And again. And again. And- but, no. Para needs him. Kyssie needs him. But now Kyssie isn't in danger. Which makes Para his primary concern.

He turns and drops to his knees at her side to try and check her out. Wake her. Something. Anything.

Despair is down for the count. When he stumbles from the lucky strike on a now glass jaw, he falls down by Para, but facing the opposite direction. And he lands on his hip. More accurately (and luckily), his doohickey. The unconscious Despair vanishes with a Flash and a THWUMP to who knows where.

This time, Despair must've made at least two magic bullets. And both found their mark in Para. One in her midsection. The other somewhere just past her hairline along the side of her head. It's hard to see exactly where due to the blood matted hair there. She's cold to the touch, but she's always cold. She's not breathing, but she's never breathing. He can't feel her mind anymore, and that is something different.

"C'mon, Sweetie. You're tougher than this. Than anybody." Porter tries to reach her mind again, too. To share that along with the words. "You'll be Ok." It's not as bad as it looks. Yeah, he can tell himself that. And her. She's the one who has to know that.

Porter rolls 10D6 sorted and gets 6 6 6 6 5 3 3 2 1 1 = 39

Porter leans over, brushing some of Third's hair back. Leaning his forehead to hers, in case it might ease the networking process. "C'mon, Sweetie. Please. Kyssie needs you. I need you..." Is it selfish? Maybe. But when he can't think of anything else, it's there. He has to have, well... Hope.

If only wishes would make it so. Para remains cold and unbreathing. He tries to reach, but there's still no response from Para's mind. Then Porter leans his head against hers and makes his plea. And maybe someone out there was listening. Or Para was.

Wherever Para's mind, soul, whatever was off to, she was warm, and loved, and finished. But a voice comes through. One that she holds very dear. She's still needed.

Porter can feel something touch his arm. A hand. Para's hand. At the same time as his mind is touched by hers. Her first thoughts were of whether her loved ones were safe. And then Para's eyes open slowly. "Kyssie...you...are you both safe?" she groans out. So perhaps the bullet only grazed her head. Knocked a few things loose, crossed signals, and messed up their bond? Maybe something like that. Or just some karmic forces moving heaven and earth to make it so.

Porter startles at the sudden touch. Then he just... breaks. Melts. He's smiling. But crying. Trying not to smother Para. But not really letting go at all. And nodding into her. He finally sniffs out a chuckle. "YEah, Kyssie's fine. We're fine. You're fine."

Third curls her arms around him. Gently. So gently. She just lets him smother, hug, whatever he needs. She won't mind being smothered. She may risk smothering him in return. It's been too long since she's touched him. Held him. Relief washes over her as she hears they're fine. "I'm sorry, my love. I tried to keep Kysmette safe...wait, is it really you? You're out of jail?" her mind is still trying to rapidly catch up with what she last remembered.

"Well, I'm here. And you're not in jail..." Porter manages, with a hint of chuckle. He's too drained to outright laugh. Or he probably would be. He's elated. But still worried. "And you did keep her safe, sweetie. Are you Ok?"

Third feels relieved and hugs Porter a little tighter. She wants to hug him with all her strength. "I am...now that you're home." Now Porter is at risk of being smothered. She's elated, too. And knowing he's here and Kyssie is safe helps her to not worry considerably. Because she doesn't worry about herself, even when she should. "I'm so glad...I tried my best. I was so worried. I...think I'll be fine. My body will heal itself up. It only hurts a little."

Porter is thrilled that the connection is back, though it takes him a second to completely realize it. He's less thrilled with the answer to his question. The unvoiced answer. "Sweetie..." It's admonishing, but he can't -really- be mad. Instead, his smothering snugs soften. So he doesn't add to the pain. And he shares more warm concern, and happy thoughts, to help counter it. "What can I do to help?" Maybe with it quieting down, and much more pleasant tones to voices, Kyssie will calm down, too. Or even go back to sleep. He'd go get her, but that'd mean leaving Para. And they're both a bit of a mess.

Sometime after Despair was knocked out and the shouting stopped, the tired, crying, cranky Kyssie has finally dozed off again. After all, she was crying because of all the loud noises during her bed time.

Para rests her head against Porter's and returns with warm, happy thoughts. The admonishing causes her a soft pang of guilt. "I'm sorry. It does hurt...but I'll be fine," she confesses. "Just having you here is more than enough. We missed you so much." She's overjoyed and happy that he's home and where he belongs instead of that jail cell. A sniffle escapes her. And a happy tear or two. "If Kyssie's alright and safe...maybe you can help me get cleaned up?"

Porter lifts his head to look over. Listens. Then looks back. Whispers. "I think she went back to sleep... Let me help you." He carefully slides his arms under her, gets a foot under him, and then lifts her up, cradling her.

Third slides her arms around his shoulders as he lifts her up, surprised and mentally swooning as he cradles her. She nuzzles her head against his neck as he holds her. "My hero," she murmurs softly, yet happily. She doesn't know the half of it. "I'm so glad she could get back to sleep. And that she's too young to be too affected by any of this."

"My heroine," Porter gives credit right back as he walks her out of Kyssie's room and for the bathroom. She mentioned cleaning up. And, well, he does know how much she likes the hot water. She has more excuse than any other woman for ridiculously long showers or luxurious soaks.