so go downtown !

"He is very... chatty." There is something beneath the surface that January dares not tread, but her curiosity always gets the better of her. Null felt like a pit but this almost felt like a whirlwind, and she wonders if she could be torn to shreds by it for simply making psychic contact. "It asks me, by using my full name, I might add, to remind you of who it is, which I assume is a bad idea," she continues. "Is it a bad idea, Mister—"

"Oi -- no one would be better off for it, my friend." Which, to his credit, was mostly true. "He's tired. We're tired." Just because he could largely control the more unruly aspects, the more dangerous parts... did not mean much. "Ihsan, no 'Mister.'" Far too formal for a man of his nature, he did believe! Then, hand rubbing his chin, one eyebrow cocked... " 'right, I suppose if he knows your full name, I know your full name." Guessing game time! No attempts to enter her mind, no attempts to use his mutation, just vibes alone... "Winter."

"Aren't you a curious little man? Hello to you and—" Her eyes, her mind catches something. Like a whale in a kennel, like a cornered animal, barely conscious by design. "Yours?"

"Curious, eh? I like that one." "You hear me." Yaratik was kept away, held under lock and key, always for the better. Yaratik was the cause of infinite loneliness, of delirium, of a grey world. Ihsan preferred forgetting him, forgetting himself -- easy with drugs. But if the right person broke through... "You're rather curious yourself. You hear mine, do you?" "January St. James, it's been a long time. Remind him, remind me, of who I am."

"you and i," he pokes ihsan right in the chest; "need to get into trouble. none of this "i'm busy" nonsense, you hear?"

"Oi -- you know, it's been a while since I've had any real fun." Staving off his reality could only do the trick for so long, and how boring it could become to just... go for the ones who 'deserved it.' "Another tag team? Old time's sake?"

ihsan has always been a little more impatient than he is, but santiago makes exceptions for people that are useful. it's why he accepts his insufferable habit of shirking sobriety—because while his intellect does suffer, he's still smarter than everyone else in the room. "we," he slings an arm around ihsan's shoulders; "are going to take on the capitol building, the research sector, and every torture room in this city in one fell swoop. i've had others investigating the inner workings so that we can punch through their defenses. i'll need someone i can count on to make sure our footing holds."

These we the kinds of things that Ihsan had been waiting for. Ever since joining The Damned, he'd been content to twiddle his thumbs and trust that there was a plan... and the fucking plan was there! "Fuckin' incredible, Santiago!" They were actually going to make some fucking headway, and it sounded like it wasn't going to be something easily forgotten. It sounded like they were getting closer to destroying the city. "'Right, copy that. The footing's gonna fuckin' hold."

He laughs it off, but doesn't expound anymore. His contingencies are his and his alone, buried deep under cryptic ciphers and firewalls too deep for most to pierce. That and having an analog one that needs a cipher—the elegance of the non-digital is something to behold. Being ratted out to his coworkers, however pragmatic they might be, is a bad look, and worse if he can't maintain the situation. He's powerful, of course, but it only gets him so far. "And I give you my word—as long as I'm able? I'll fill you up with as many mind-numbing concoctions I can get my wicked little hands on." Brandishing a scalpel, seeing as his baseline readings are back to normal, Adonis starts to map out his next plan of attack. "Before we get back to business: how do you feel about a future procedure where I open your skull, Ihsan? Too much?"

What more could he ask from Adonis? As long as he kept making good on the mind-numbing shit Ihsan had grown so fond of, he had no reason to say a thing. And he was far more worried about losing that than any contingencies Adonis may have in place -- nothing to worry about there! A future procedure where his skull was cracked open? Well, as long as he was still getting his little concoctions... "Open away, Moreau."

"I'm not letting go until you say I'm stronger and better than you!" Getting the drop on Ihsan wasn't easy, and she's proud of herself for getting him in a chokehold. He hasn't done anything to annoy her lately, but she's a big fan of payback. This is for all the times he's looked in her general direction or breathed too loudly. "Say it, you know you want to."

Ihsan knew to expect many things, but he did not know to expect Tenzin literally jumping down on him. "Oi!" He began shaking back and forth, an attempt to get her off without having to use any mutation (which he had to assume she would also do) or say that she was stronger and better than him. Psh! That was silly talk! "Ey, why would I say that? I am way fucking stronger and way fucking better!" He did not necessarily believe that (at least the latter part!), but who would he be to let Tenzin get one over on him? And to not play?

The thought of being betrayed, or at leasst ratted out by a patient—it fills him both with wonder and dread. It's never out of the realm of possibility, and yet he's been careful enough to pick mutants who come to him, who are both desperate and discreet, knowing that one of that will help cover for the other. He will present himself as a kind man, if only for the delight of cutting through flesh and discovering the prize beneath. Adonis looks, and for a second, considers the question as it's laid before him. "I have contingencies, of course. There are reasons I don't just pick any old mutant off the street," he says, looking into the dead eyes of Ihsan. "And I'm not sharing them with you." A teasing smile glances off his lips as he scans him, humming as he does so. Work really is fulfilling—a betrayal would so stop this. "What if you, in your words, rat me out?"

Ihsan raised an eyebrow, interest certainly piquing at whatever failsafes Adonis may have in place. He was not dumb enough to think there were no contingency plans, Adonis was far too smart to just... rely on someone's word and desperation, but what exactly they could be had never entered his mind. Apparently his mind needed to be marred for that to happen. "Oi, well, even fucking excluding whatever your contingencies are, I'd lose my fucking supplier." That was what Adonis was best for now! And that was the main reason Ihsan would never rat him out ( not that he wouldn't consider starting shit among the Council just to start shit, but never would he name names! ). "Can't have that happening, my friend. I'd have to fucking rely on the Sector Five shit and the Sector Five shit alone again."

"that's exactly how i see it." it's different for them, of course. they know their work is for the greater good—or whatever—but the people in power would keep them suppressed. revolution has never come without a toppling of the stage. "very big. in fact, if you'll take a walk with me," back to the caverns, where they can't be tracked; "i'd like to talk to you about your greater role in that. this is just the beginning."

Although Ihsan was, to put it as simply as possible, not a fan of people in positions of power, he'd never been able to help but admire Santiago (as much as he could admire someone in a position of power, that is). He had an actual vision, a vision that would work towards the greater good. And he... to be a bit sappy (oh, how he hated it!), Santiago understood him better than most! -- So he trusted that Santiago's plan, and whatever Ihsan's place in it would be, would be superb. "'Right." He began strolling alongside Santiago, attempting to stay perfectly in line with him. "So what's the plan, ey?"

Oh! Psychoanalysis. How interesting to hear from a man high out of his mind and whose brain is essentially maimed as they talk. Adonis lets him speak, eyes trained on him long and hard as he goes on a ramble about his hunch. His mind pings something—no telepathy at the moment, and files it away as he listens. The man talking about how he cares of his subjects, how there's a little good in that corroded wall of muscle he calls a heart and with anything, he simply shrugs it off. His motivation is knowledge, to him, it was king, but it was true—he would rather keep them alive to test them until the sun burns the earth than to maim and maul for curiosity's sake. "Should I act according to your previous conception of me, and open your skull to test on? Wouldn't that be something?" It's a macabre joke, but he rolls his eyes. He feels untethered here, unbound by the laws of the city, pursuing innovation and mutation hand in hand as he cuts and concocts. "But my job is to simply innovate, know, try to advance the study of mutant physiology, genetics and subsequent treatment. And that perhaps comes across as, what did you say? Help." He's not a deranged killer, or a butcher—he's a man of science, willing to hack away at the meat of the problem and figure out the core of mutation. "Perhaps a by-product of my curiosity, and who's to say? But I enjoy what I do, and I assume many mutants I perform my experiments on do as well—if not, I'd have been ousted already, and sent to the penitentiaries."

"Go for it, my friend. Fucking crack it open right now." It was part challenge -- prove Ihsan wrong, prove Adonis only cared about knowledge and would gladly cause long-term damage in the name of fast results -- and part... well, Ihsan didn't really give a shit! Whether it was the sedative or the maimed brain or the general lack of caring about whether he lived or died ( or some unholy combination... which was probably what it was ), if Adonis had some fun in his skull before his mind had time to properly heal, so fucking be it! Ihsan let his head fall to the side, rather tired of holding it up, and raised an eyebrow. "Ever thought about what'd happen if one of the experiments did fucking rat on you?" He wouldn't ( not that he wouldn't tease another Council member into suspicion just for the hell of it ) -- that would mean losing his supplier! -- but who was to say one of the... however-many-others wouldn't grow tired and reveal him? "What would you do, ey?"

"good." naturally, santiago wouldn't have asked if he didn't already think that to be true. if he thinks someone can't perform, they're put on the outskirts where they can't fuck anything up. the others, the competent ones, would be the movers and shakers. it's not that it's a crime not to be useful, of course—he's not snubbing them entirely. but their kingdom isn't here yet. they'll have to wait for that ever-coveted feeling of importance. "not only that, they're cowardly enough to hide it. funny, isn't it? if they really thought they had some good to do, they'd wear it proudly." they certainly did. "i want this to be your priority from now on, kaplan. understand that. everything else is secondary."

"No point in keeping secrets if you think it's for the greater good, ey?" Ihsan agreed with a slightly amused smile. Oh, how nice it would be to be able to brainwash yourself the way humans seemed to do to themselves so easily! "Got it." It was a good thing Ihsan already didn't do much outside of complain about the government and manifest The Horrors™ when he got bored. "We got something big coming, I take it?"

"Are you counting yourself among the vulnerable, then, out of interest? Since you say all these alleged experimentation victims are vulnerable." It's not the first word that Sable would use to describe Ihsan, nor the second or the third... truthfully, the only reason she's not the least bit frightened is because they're in so public a place. In a dark alley? She'd not be so bold.

"Glad we're in agreement, then!" Obviously it was not the same thing, but was Ihsan mature enough to admit that? Of course not! At least, not to one of the people he was talking about. Nonetheless, he didn't not find these optic plays predatory; nonetheless, he didn't not find the fake smiles and fake support nearly as reprehensible as the unethical experimentation... "Actually, yes." He was talking one big game ( and a game he could follow through on, consequences be damned ), but he couldn't pretend that he wasn't growing reliant on Adonis for the specialized drug he supplied. To support that, he shook the bottle of pills again. If it weren't for those, if it weren't for all he was offered in return for being a his lab rat, there was a possibility Ihsan would have ratted the man out the moment he learned of the experimentation. Although it was far more likely he would have just... taken it into his own hands. "Haven't ever met a single person who'd get fucking poked and prodded just to get fucking poked and prodded." Save, perhaps, for Ezra, but she didn't need to know that.

Kei refocuses on him now, catching her breath in the process. Whoever this was, intentions be damned. She wanted to feel alive again. “You fucking bet. Where do I start?”

With her agreement officially in place, he extended a hand. "Ihsan."

"Damn it," he mumbles, checking for a pulse. Caspar experiences a flicker of guilt each time he takes a life, but it's unavoidable; he craves violence and turmoil as intensely as pregnant women crave pickles with peanut butter. He hears footsteps behind him and stands up straight. The alley now feels colder and more threatening than it did a few seconds ago. "Must've been a mugging or some shit," he lies, glancing at the corpse. "I just found him like this."

"Oi! Is that what you tell people?" Ihsan asked with an amused grin, reaching down to slap pat Caspar on the back. He was safe to be honest with! He understood! "That's how you get yourself sent to the penitentiary, my friend."