Characters: Jamie Madrox, OTA NPCs: Passerbys Location: M-Town. The streets near Moira's clinic. Timeline: Saturday, February 26th Description: Jamie is tagging over some FoH propaganda and making a few bucks. Rating: PG-13ish
"There's a red house over yonder, that's where my baby stays.. There's a red house over yonder, baby, that's where my baby stays."
On a corner across from MacTaggert's Mutant Clinic, a guitarist play an acoustic six string for anyone who would listen. He was seated on the cracked concrete with his back was pressed against the brick facade of a building. At his feet, a worn Gatsby sat with change and crumbled bills lining it's interior. As the guitarist played passerbys would drop change into the hat and earn a nod from the appreciative artist. He continued, his melody forlorn and his expression shaping each verse. Yes, it was quite a departure from Jamie's typical street presence but it was time for another persona. A trustworthy appearance and a useful distraction.
"Wait a minute, something's wrong, baby. The key wont unlock the door. I got a bad, bad feeling that my baby don't live here no more."
Just around the corner from Hippie!Madrox, the real Jamie was busy with Brotherhood business. The large interior of an alleyway had been defaced with racist slurs and at it had been signed with another gang's tag. The tag was new but Jamie was aware of who it belonged too. The Friends of Humanity had been busy. "Nazi fucks.." The can of spray paint hissed with each pass. "Jamie go spray of this hateful propaganda. Jamie jump through these hoops. Jamie, help me score with skunk head again." Madrox grumbled as he began the task of throwing the Brotherhood's tag up.
He was halfway through his work when he felt a tingling along the underside of his jaw. His lips pulled back and he turned away, hurling last nights rounds onto the dirty pavement. He coughed once or twice and spit the taste out of his mouth. "Jesus, I'm too hung over for this shit."