Encounterlogs
Vincents Odd Encounter Sr Alexander 240429
Vincent, a posh Brit and new resident of Haven, encounters a weeping girl named Emily on his jog. Emily pleads for his help to find her indoor cat, Max, who has ventured into the nearby woods. Despite his initial reservations and unfamiliarity with the area, Vincent is swayed by Emily's tears and agrees to help search for Max. He takes a bag of treats from Emily, intending to lure the cat back. As Vincent heads into the fog towards the tree line, the scene subtly alludes that this might not be a typical day for him in Haven. Meanwhile, another storyline unfolds with Meridith Walker, who's approached by John Smith, a member of The Golden Shadow, a mysterious organization interested in recruiting her for her exceptional skills and potential. John attempts to entice Meridith with promises of power, wealth, and the opportunity to join their ranks, exploiting the imminent chaos for personal gain. Despite his efforts to charm and coax her into joining, Meridith staunchly refuses, remaining committed to her ideals of fighting for a better world and against those who profit from its misery.
The story concludes with Meridith rebuffing John's offer, emphasizing her desire to make the world a better place, despite recognizing the inherent awfulness in people. John's attempts to recruit her under the guise of facing an undefined catastrophic future are met with skepticism and a refusal to abandon her principles for the seductive lure of power and wealth that The Golden Shadow represents. As John departs with a final note of disappointment, Meridith reiterates her commitment to her "hopeless battle," implying a continued fight against the forces that seek to manipulate and exploit the chaos of the world for their own ends. This confrontation encapsulates the broader themes of personal integrity, the seductive nature of power, and the ongoing battle between those who seek to uphold their ideals versus those who succumb to temptation for personal gain.
(Vincent's odd encounter(SRAlexander):SRAlexander)
[Sun Apr 28 2024]
On Franklin Street
It is afternoon, about 55F(12C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
Vincent continues jogging down the path looking around the area.
(Your target has been flagged down by someone who wants their help getting their cat down from a tree.
)
It's an average day in Haven. No more freaky aftershocks. Power's back. It's a marked improvement for anyone who likes stable ground and market values. Vincent finds himself on a short jog, still finding his way about town. Does he know what lurks in the mist of haven? Perhaps he is about to find out.
As he moves along the line of businesses past the busy streets, he rounds his way and spies, nearby, a little girl, no more than thirteen, walking down the street, crying, looking toward him as he draws into sight. Perhaps he'd stop? Perhaps its best to just...keep moving.
Vincent running down towards the bridge pauses slightly as he raises an eyebrow at the crying little girl. "I swear everything about the states true.. now crying little girls in the streets." He says with a low voice in his posh-sounding accent. As Vincent then shifts his path from a slow run into a jogging stop as he comes to approach the girl, not suspecting a thing... nothing more than a mortal human seeing with his eyes just a poor defenseless girl crying in the street... "Are you alrighty?" He asks even the city-high-noise posh Brit seems unable to ignore a crying child.
"M-my cat-" she sobs, and rubs her eyes. "He ran into the woods and mom said I'm not supposed to go," it's a whole production. Tears and she's wailing and she wipes her face and she snots up a little. God, is it even possible? Could she be, perhaps, a normal mortal little girl?"
"He, he ran and I...I please, please mister can you help me look for him? I heard there a wolves there!" She cries. "What if they eat him!" Oh no, this seems to make her even more upset. "Please! Please help me!" She wails."
Vincent not knowing a single thing about the supernatural, those things are just silly movies, TV shows, and books after all.. right? At least Vincent the new reluctant arrival to the town of Haven still holds into said view and watches with growing sympathy at the girl's wet works tear production. Vincent looks around the area trying to locate where are these woods even near? He must have gotten off track from crossing the bridge, somehow? Then with a sigh, not even him being able to be rude to a small child speaks, taking a small knee. "Am sure he went off to explore, cats do that all the time." He adds on trying reassurance, though not really any good with kids.
A moment passes where she shakes her head. "He's an indoor cat! He's not supposed to get out!" She insists, frowning. Her eyes well up staring at Vincent, perhaps realizing that he is not the savior. The woods are a bit to the south and north of the town. Flanked on all sides in an odd way. What's the major road in or out of this place? Strange. Best not to dwell on that.
"Please, please! I can show you were I saw him!" She insists, pointing in the distant line of trees visible through the fog.
Vincent shakes his head, and then with a sigh takes a stand as he looks towards the woods, spotting them with a slightly puzzled look on his face on how he ended up here, though dismissing it with a shrug, must have gotten turned around somehow on his way towards the bride. "The things I do sometimes." He grumbles to himself as he takes a stand. "I will have a look around though am sure he will come back home for food." He answers as he gives a show of walking towards the treeline turning around to speak to the girl once more, before heading into the woods to have that quick look around to at least not feel guilty for not even looking a bit for the the crying girl. "Whats his name again?" He asks squinting slightly, when did it become foggy? Must be a normal thing in the States.
She nods and hesitates a moment. Some cars drive by, the town is still very much alive, but the fog, especially in Massachusetts is entirely normal. And there's nothing weird about Haven's mist, certainly. She smiles brightly when he agrees to help. "Thank you! I'll put some water out and his name is Max! But I call him kitty! And here," She produces a little bag of treats. "If you shake this he should come to you! Um um! My name is Emily, what's your name?" She asks pointedly.
Whether he answers or not he begins making his way towards the tree line. The Girl has cheered up immensely, or, Emily, if he bothered to commit it to memory.
(A member of The Golden Shadow has been causing trouble in town, using their resources to exploit the locals and stir up fear and chaos. They've taken an interest in your target, seeing them as a potential asset or threat. Your target needs to deal with this mercenary, either through diplomacy, intimidation, or combat.)
Meridith has been strolling about town. She's got a problem at school she's trying to stay on top of but found herself briefly examining the Arcology at White Oak.
It's there that a man finds her -- he's got that all-American look, in his mid-30s, maybe, but with the kind of smooth skin that suggests a dedicated beauty regime... or perhaps magic. He's blonde, with a chiseled jaw, and he leans against a tree in the biodome. He's glancing at his phone, and then he looks up at Meridith. "Meridith Walker?" he says to her. "That's you, right?" Phone, her, phone -- there's a photo there at least, and perhaps something tracking her.
There's nothing immediately threatening about the man, and indeed the wards at White Oak are strong, but at the same time he has an edge: he's got a habit of standing that comes from the sort of man who makes violence his vocation.
Meridith pivots slow to face the man. She has a casual expression on her face, like this is a normal thing to find some mid 30's man in the biodome on campus. He's got a picture, it seems. "Damn, my man, you work for the red flag factory or something?" She shoots back to him. She's without her gear, for once, trying to be a good girl on campus. Awesome.
"What can I do for you?" she asks simply.
"I do, in fact, work for the red flag factory," SRLegion shares with Meridith with humor. "Well -- not really a factory, and it's not really red." He walks towards her, with some paranoid glance over his shoulder; from the way he walks, he has a pistol on his hip, his hand always keeping that side of the body clear. He reaches out his hand. "John Smith," he says. "I'm with an organization you may have heard of." His other hand dips inside the light jacket he wears, some kind of tactical-adjacent brand, and he produces a card. It's jet black, with an embossed globe, and through the globe is plunged a golden dagger. "We've heard reports."
Meridith exhales harshly and shifts a foot back, bent slightly. Her entire body begins to tighten some, an athletic pose, perhaps to run, or charge this man. She gives him a firm and fixed glower, eyes bright, expression not hateful or angry but guarded. Everything about it screams 'back off'. "This is a really stupid place to do this, John. Take a half step back," she warns him. "I know who your people are," she's doubtless defeating dozens of their lackeys in the nightmare over her time serving her various organizations. "What I want to know is why you are here, exposed."
"To do what?" John asks Meridith mildly. "Offer you a job?" It's a smile, amused. "Well -- a sort of trial job," he admits. "Membership takes a little bit of doing," he says, withdrawing his hand. "But we've been watching you, Walker: you've got the makings of the sort of person who has what it takes." A pause. "You're young, but there are always ways to make you a little stronger," he says. "History is littered with the relics of great warriors, and we can find some saint's fingerbone or whatever bullshit to give you that edge. And who doesn't need an edge?" he says. "No. The Golden Shadow is looking for people like you, Walker: strong," he says. "Tough. Flexible -- I bet physically, from the look of you, but you also need to care about the bottom line." He rubs his fingers together, the universal sign for money. "The world's ending, after all. No reason not to enjoy the sunset."
Meridith rolls her eyes. "You're a real dumbass, you know that? Money? You fucking dumbass. The worlds end is here, you believe it, and you're still fretting about the highscore of cash? Absolutely not. Guess what I want that kind of power for? It's to wipe fuckheads like you off the face of the planet." Meridith delivers it with a heat, and then tries to rein herself in some. "So, no. No deal, get out of here." She tenses some, still nervous about it.
John tells Meridith, "We're not fretting about the high score, Walker." He chuckles. "We're interested in enjoying the sunset, that's all -- it's a golden shadow before all is black." A long pause. "I don't have any fucking idea what's coming, but it ain't good, and I ain't know how to stop it, neither. You know what I do know?" he says. "There's no reason to be poor and unhappy and shitty waiting for a big boom."
Meridith lowers her eyes. "By profiting off the misery of others?" She scowls. "How about this, John. How about you use all that wealth, and power, and privelege, and actually try to do the one thing capital has failed to ever do, do something good." She leans against the bars, still counting exits, still calculating approaches, still planning escapes. "I'm not the kind of person who sits around and waits to die. And I can't imagine anything more miserable than resigning."
"Capital?" asks John with humor. "Are you really a closet Marxist, Walker?" he says. "Jesus Christ sodomizing a bear," he swears. "Did the home office really get you that wrong?" he shakes his head. "Where's the killer?" he asks. "Where's the girl who does what has to be done? What -- you want to live your life in some tiny shack barely able to make ends meet?" A shake of his head. "Walker, we do not give a shit what you do with the money you earn. You want to start a soup kitchen, good on you."
Meridith scowls. "Fuck off," she says with some heat and a threatening step forward toward him. "I do what has to be done, meaning I deal with scum and parasites sucking the life out of this world. Which includes you and exactly every person wearing that fucking pin," she says jabbing a finger towards him. "You picked your approach well, this is about the only place I wouldn't kick your ass," she explains as if the point hasn't been made. Though, who would trump who here is far from established.
Humor. "Walker," John says. "You can't 'kick my ass'. We're offering opportunity," he says. "But you're not half as strong as you think you are," he tells her. "I think we all know that. We all know you're coming close to a place where you really need to find a way to grow." He shrugs, tucking his black-and-gold card back away. "It's disappointing, really. They thought you had promise. But instead, what -- you're just going to end up all washed up, aren't you?" he says. "Miserable, and angry, and upset... and scared." He pauses. "Do you know what I hated, before I joined up?"
Meridith feels like she gave him ample warning. She tilts her head some. "I don't give a fuck, about a single thing about you," she says hotly. "There's a reason I wash your fucking loser soldiers up and down in every op they appear, and reason why you want me." She steps towards him. "Fuck off, or we'll see where I stand between us," she insists, fist tightening.
There's an eloquent shrug to Meridith. "I'm not doing anything here to upset you, Walker," he says. "I'm just talking." A pause. "You want a cigarette?" he asks. "Nip of whiskey? Or are you too angry for all of that?" he wonders of her. John digs out a pack of cigarettes himself, starting to light one with an inscribed zippo. "Honestly," he tells her. "I really want a fucking cigar, but."
Meridith narrows her eyes at the suggestions. A reflex instinctive for her to touch her stomach is averted, but almost completed. She lingers a moment, trying to determine whether or not he is alluding to anything. She exhales sharp. "But what," she says. Violence still on the table, abated for now.
"But I don't have any fucking cigars," John tells Meridith mildly. "I think something Honduran is my mood tonight," he shares. "You know. People always talk the talk about Cubans, but you Leninists really kind of shit the bed on that one." Gentle teasing. "I just want a cigar rolled on the thighs of virgins, is that too much to ask?" he says. "Though -- what is it you want, Walker. Honestly. You don't seem happy."
Meridith bites, at least for a moment. She lets the anger go, well, she stores it somewhere for the moment. She studies him for a moment. "I want the world to be worthy of people. I want people to be worthy of the world." She shrugs gently. "I'm sick of how obvious it seems to me to make this place a little better, and I'm sick of the people who stand in the way of making that possible," she shrugs. "I want the power to remove the obstacles, and everyone up and down tells me how terrible an idea it is. People scared of power. People who use what gifts they have to uphold the world as it is because they're too fucking cowardly to consider it could be something else."
A short, sharp laugh. "Have you met the world?" John asks Meridith this directly. "Have you met -people-, Walker?" he says. "They're all fucking awful," he says, dragging on his cigarette. "And as long as you keep trying to hope they won't be, you're just going to be disappointed. It's going to be gut punch after gut punch after gut punch, innit?"
Meridith shrugs. "You've got to at least have intel on how stubborn I am, right?" She gestures some. "I think people aren't so awful. I think we have an awful world, that feeds on people's darkest sides, and if one side or the other could ease off, things would get better."
Exhaled smoke. "There's no sides," John says. "It's just people all the way down, Walker." He shakes his head, smoking the cigarette down, and then he throws it down to start to rub it out with a foot. "If you're not interested in the opportunity," he tells her. "Well. I'll let you mosey, Walker. I'd offer you my number -- but these are kind of one-time deals." Hard eyes. "It's too bad. You coulda been something."
Meridith watches the smoke a moment and shrugs helplessly. "Suppose we'll see when it all shakes out. Enjoy your money, some of us have hopeless battles to win," she says with a gentle roll of her shoulders.
"Win," John says with humor. "Good luck with that, Walker." Then he turns -- disappearing into the woods.
The story concludes with Meridith rebuffing John's offer, emphasizing her desire to make the world a better place, despite recognizing the inherent awfulness in people. John's attempts to recruit her under the guise of facing an undefined catastrophic future are met with skepticism and a refusal to abandon her principles for the seductive lure of power and wealth that The Golden Shadow represents. As John departs with a final note of disappointment, Meridith reiterates her commitment to her "hopeless battle," implying a continued fight against the forces that seek to manipulate and exploit the chaos of the world for their own ends. This confrontation encapsulates the broader themes of personal integrity, the seductive nature of power, and the ongoing battle between those who seek to uphold their ideals versus those who succumb to temptation for personal gain.
(Vincent's odd encounter(SRAlexander):SRAlexander)
[Sun Apr 28 2024]
On Franklin Street
It is afternoon, about 55F(12C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
Vincent continues jogging down the path looking around the area.
(Your target has been flagged down by someone who wants their help getting their cat down from a tree.
)
It's an average day in Haven. No more freaky aftershocks. Power's back. It's a marked improvement for anyone who likes stable ground and market values. Vincent finds himself on a short jog, still finding his way about town. Does he know what lurks in the mist of haven? Perhaps he is about to find out.
As he moves along the line of businesses past the busy streets, he rounds his way and spies, nearby, a little girl, no more than thirteen, walking down the street, crying, looking toward him as he draws into sight. Perhaps he'd stop? Perhaps its best to just...keep moving.
Vincent running down towards the bridge pauses slightly as he raises an eyebrow at the crying little girl. "I swear everything about the states true.. now crying little girls in the streets." He says with a low voice in his posh-sounding accent. As Vincent then shifts his path from a slow run into a jogging stop as he comes to approach the girl, not suspecting a thing... nothing more than a mortal human seeing with his eyes just a poor defenseless girl crying in the street... "Are you alrighty?" He asks even the city-high-noise posh Brit seems unable to ignore a crying child.
"M-my cat-" she sobs, and rubs her eyes. "He ran into the woods and mom said I'm not supposed to go," it's a whole production. Tears and she's wailing and she wipes her face and she snots up a little. God, is it even possible? Could she be, perhaps, a normal mortal little girl?"
"He, he ran and I...I please, please mister can you help me look for him? I heard there a wolves there!" She cries. "What if they eat him!" Oh no, this seems to make her even more upset. "Please! Please help me!" She wails."
Vincent not knowing a single thing about the supernatural, those things are just silly movies, TV shows, and books after all.. right? At least Vincent the new reluctant arrival to the town of Haven still holds into said view and watches with growing sympathy at the girl's wet works tear production. Vincent looks around the area trying to locate where are these woods even near? He must have gotten off track from crossing the bridge, somehow? Then with a sigh, not even him being able to be rude to a small child speaks, taking a small knee. "Am sure he went off to explore, cats do that all the time." He adds on trying reassurance, though not really any good with kids.
A moment passes where she shakes her head. "He's an indoor cat! He's not supposed to get out!" She insists, frowning. Her eyes well up staring at Vincent, perhaps realizing that he is not the savior. The woods are a bit to the south and north of the town. Flanked on all sides in an odd way. What's the major road in or out of this place? Strange. Best not to dwell on that.
"Please, please! I can show you were I saw him!" She insists, pointing in the distant line of trees visible through the fog.
Vincent shakes his head, and then with a sigh takes a stand as he looks towards the woods, spotting them with a slightly puzzled look on his face on how he ended up here, though dismissing it with a shrug, must have gotten turned around somehow on his way towards the bride. "The things I do sometimes." He grumbles to himself as he takes a stand. "I will have a look around though am sure he will come back home for food." He answers as he gives a show of walking towards the treeline turning around to speak to the girl once more, before heading into the woods to have that quick look around to at least not feel guilty for not even looking a bit for the the crying girl. "Whats his name again?" He asks squinting slightly, when did it become foggy? Must be a normal thing in the States.
She nods and hesitates a moment. Some cars drive by, the town is still very much alive, but the fog, especially in Massachusetts is entirely normal. And there's nothing weird about Haven's mist, certainly. She smiles brightly when he agrees to help. "Thank you! I'll put some water out and his name is Max! But I call him kitty! And here," She produces a little bag of treats. "If you shake this he should come to you! Um um! My name is Emily, what's your name?" She asks pointedly.
Whether he answers or not he begins making his way towards the tree line. The Girl has cheered up immensely, or, Emily, if he bothered to commit it to memory.
(A member of The Golden Shadow has been causing trouble in town, using their resources to exploit the locals and stir up fear and chaos. They've taken an interest in your target, seeing them as a potential asset or threat. Your target needs to deal with this mercenary, either through diplomacy, intimidation, or combat.)
Meridith has been strolling about town. She's got a problem at school she's trying to stay on top of but found herself briefly examining the Arcology at White Oak.
It's there that a man finds her -- he's got that all-American look, in his mid-30s, maybe, but with the kind of smooth skin that suggests a dedicated beauty regime... or perhaps magic. He's blonde, with a chiseled jaw, and he leans against a tree in the biodome. He's glancing at his phone, and then he looks up at Meridith. "Meridith Walker?" he says to her. "That's you, right?" Phone, her, phone -- there's a photo there at least, and perhaps something tracking her.
There's nothing immediately threatening about the man, and indeed the wards at White Oak are strong, but at the same time he has an edge: he's got a habit of standing that comes from the sort of man who makes violence his vocation.
Meridith pivots slow to face the man. She has a casual expression on her face, like this is a normal thing to find some mid 30's man in the biodome on campus. He's got a picture, it seems. "Damn, my man, you work for the red flag factory or something?" She shoots back to him. She's without her gear, for once, trying to be a good girl on campus. Awesome.
"What can I do for you?" she asks simply.
"I do, in fact, work for the red flag factory," SRLegion shares with Meridith with humor. "Well -- not really a factory, and it's not really red." He walks towards her, with some paranoid glance over his shoulder; from the way he walks, he has a pistol on his hip, his hand always keeping that side of the body clear. He reaches out his hand. "John Smith," he says. "I'm with an organization you may have heard of." His other hand dips inside the light jacket he wears, some kind of tactical-adjacent brand, and he produces a card. It's jet black, with an embossed globe, and through the globe is plunged a golden dagger. "We've heard reports."
Meridith exhales harshly and shifts a foot back, bent slightly. Her entire body begins to tighten some, an athletic pose, perhaps to run, or charge this man. She gives him a firm and fixed glower, eyes bright, expression not hateful or angry but guarded. Everything about it screams 'back off'. "This is a really stupid place to do this, John. Take a half step back," she warns him. "I know who your people are," she's doubtless defeating dozens of their lackeys in the nightmare over her time serving her various organizations. "What I want to know is why you are here, exposed."
"To do what?" John asks Meridith mildly. "Offer you a job?" It's a smile, amused. "Well -- a sort of trial job," he admits. "Membership takes a little bit of doing," he says, withdrawing his hand. "But we've been watching you, Walker: you've got the makings of the sort of person who has what it takes." A pause. "You're young, but there are always ways to make you a little stronger," he says. "History is littered with the relics of great warriors, and we can find some saint's fingerbone or whatever bullshit to give you that edge. And who doesn't need an edge?" he says. "No. The Golden Shadow is looking for people like you, Walker: strong," he says. "Tough. Flexible -- I bet physically, from the look of you, but you also need to care about the bottom line." He rubs his fingers together, the universal sign for money. "The world's ending, after all. No reason not to enjoy the sunset."
Meridith rolls her eyes. "You're a real dumbass, you know that? Money? You fucking dumbass. The worlds end is here, you believe it, and you're still fretting about the highscore of cash? Absolutely not. Guess what I want that kind of power for? It's to wipe fuckheads like you off the face of the planet." Meridith delivers it with a heat, and then tries to rein herself in some. "So, no. No deal, get out of here." She tenses some, still nervous about it.
John tells Meridith, "We're not fretting about the high score, Walker." He chuckles. "We're interested in enjoying the sunset, that's all -- it's a golden shadow before all is black." A long pause. "I don't have any fucking idea what's coming, but it ain't good, and I ain't know how to stop it, neither. You know what I do know?" he says. "There's no reason to be poor and unhappy and shitty waiting for a big boom."
Meridith lowers her eyes. "By profiting off the misery of others?" She scowls. "How about this, John. How about you use all that wealth, and power, and privelege, and actually try to do the one thing capital has failed to ever do, do something good." She leans against the bars, still counting exits, still calculating approaches, still planning escapes. "I'm not the kind of person who sits around and waits to die. And I can't imagine anything more miserable than resigning."
"Capital?" asks John with humor. "Are you really a closet Marxist, Walker?" he says. "Jesus Christ sodomizing a bear," he swears. "Did the home office really get you that wrong?" he shakes his head. "Where's the killer?" he asks. "Where's the girl who does what has to be done? What -- you want to live your life in some tiny shack barely able to make ends meet?" A shake of his head. "Walker, we do not give a shit what you do with the money you earn. You want to start a soup kitchen, good on you."
Meridith scowls. "Fuck off," she says with some heat and a threatening step forward toward him. "I do what has to be done, meaning I deal with scum and parasites sucking the life out of this world. Which includes you and exactly every person wearing that fucking pin," she says jabbing a finger towards him. "You picked your approach well, this is about the only place I wouldn't kick your ass," she explains as if the point hasn't been made. Though, who would trump who here is far from established.
Humor. "Walker," John says. "You can't 'kick my ass'. We're offering opportunity," he says. "But you're not half as strong as you think you are," he tells her. "I think we all know that. We all know you're coming close to a place where you really need to find a way to grow." He shrugs, tucking his black-and-gold card back away. "It's disappointing, really. They thought you had promise. But instead, what -- you're just going to end up all washed up, aren't you?" he says. "Miserable, and angry, and upset... and scared." He pauses. "Do you know what I hated, before I joined up?"
Meridith feels like she gave him ample warning. She tilts her head some. "I don't give a fuck, about a single thing about you," she says hotly. "There's a reason I wash your fucking loser soldiers up and down in every op they appear, and reason why you want me." She steps towards him. "Fuck off, or we'll see where I stand between us," she insists, fist tightening.
There's an eloquent shrug to Meridith. "I'm not doing anything here to upset you, Walker," he says. "I'm just talking." A pause. "You want a cigarette?" he asks. "Nip of whiskey? Or are you too angry for all of that?" he wonders of her. John digs out a pack of cigarettes himself, starting to light one with an inscribed zippo. "Honestly," he tells her. "I really want a fucking cigar, but."
Meridith narrows her eyes at the suggestions. A reflex instinctive for her to touch her stomach is averted, but almost completed. She lingers a moment, trying to determine whether or not he is alluding to anything. She exhales sharp. "But what," she says. Violence still on the table, abated for now.
"But I don't have any fucking cigars," John tells Meridith mildly. "I think something Honduran is my mood tonight," he shares. "You know. People always talk the talk about Cubans, but you Leninists really kind of shit the bed on that one." Gentle teasing. "I just want a cigar rolled on the thighs of virgins, is that too much to ask?" he says. "Though -- what is it you want, Walker. Honestly. You don't seem happy."
Meridith bites, at least for a moment. She lets the anger go, well, she stores it somewhere for the moment. She studies him for a moment. "I want the world to be worthy of people. I want people to be worthy of the world." She shrugs gently. "I'm sick of how obvious it seems to me to make this place a little better, and I'm sick of the people who stand in the way of making that possible," she shrugs. "I want the power to remove the obstacles, and everyone up and down tells me how terrible an idea it is. People scared of power. People who use what gifts they have to uphold the world as it is because they're too fucking cowardly to consider it could be something else."
A short, sharp laugh. "Have you met the world?" John asks Meridith this directly. "Have you met -people-, Walker?" he says. "They're all fucking awful," he says, dragging on his cigarette. "And as long as you keep trying to hope they won't be, you're just going to be disappointed. It's going to be gut punch after gut punch after gut punch, innit?"
Meridith shrugs. "You've got to at least have intel on how stubborn I am, right?" She gestures some. "I think people aren't so awful. I think we have an awful world, that feeds on people's darkest sides, and if one side or the other could ease off, things would get better."
Exhaled smoke. "There's no sides," John says. "It's just people all the way down, Walker." He shakes his head, smoking the cigarette down, and then he throws it down to start to rub it out with a foot. "If you're not interested in the opportunity," he tells her. "Well. I'll let you mosey, Walker. I'd offer you my number -- but these are kind of one-time deals." Hard eyes. "It's too bad. You coulda been something."
Meridith watches the smoke a moment and shrugs helplessly. "Suppose we'll see when it all shakes out. Enjoy your money, some of us have hopeless battles to win," she says with a gentle roll of her shoulders.
"Win," John says with humor. "Good luck with that, Walker." Then he turns -- disappearing into the woods.