Good intentions

Who: Kurt/Doc
Where: Streets of Marquette
When: Early morning

It was early the next morning when Kurt left the house. He slept nearly the entire evening and night, waking up again only briefly to let Natalya feed him. He felt very much rejuvinated. It was rest -- and escape -- he truly needed, and he found himself oddly unplagued by nightmares. The sun was just starting to dissipate the mist over the lake as he walked a good deal away from the house. He'd placed a fresh bandage on his neck, and added one to the wound on his chest that Natalya hadn't seen. Now that he was physically recovered, he was ready for answers. And he knew who could give them. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was out of sight, Kurt took his hands out of his pockets and looked at the one the man called Doc had marked. He wasn't quite sure how this was done. Knowing he probably looked ridiculous, Kurt pointed his palm at the sky. "I need you," he said plainly.

No one had ever summoned him before, which explained the bewilderment Doc felt as a surge so close to his normal tasks filled him. But it was charged, tinged with an urgency that told him this wouldn't wait like so many other jobs could. He moved from the kitchen of his home to his bedroom, yanking on the demonic pistol that was his mark of rank, and reeled suddenly. Kurt. He knew... he knew what it was drawing him; the mark he'd given the other man, the same as had been done for him. Quickly rounding up the forged documents he'd prepared for Kurt, Doc shut his bedroom door tight and locked it, then focused.

He would've been proud of how the power seemed to work; a slight breeze sprang to life around Kurt, sweeping up leaves as a low crackle sounded. Heat distortions seemed to ripple against the breeze for a moment, surging harder and gaining color as they ebbed and flowed, coalescing into Doc himself, a manilla folder wedged under one arm.

Kurt dropped his arm as soon as the wind picked up a bit, looking around himself. His eyes locked onto the spot that ceased to be empty air and turned into a man. He stared, expression very blank, as Doc came into being from nothing. If there was any doubt left in his mind that he was dealing with something entirely beyond his understanding, it died in that moment. He waited until ... well, it looked like he was done, then tucked his hands back into his jean pockets. "Morning," he greeted. He had the wry thought that he was going to get to the point where nothing surprised him any longer. "Do you mind if I have a cigarette?"

"If anyone minds non-smoking, it's me," Doc answered with a grin, tucking his own smoke in his lips and lighting up, then tossing the pack and lighter at Kurt. He closed the few steps between them easily, wadding together the folder and papers under one arm and extending the bundle over. "Welcome to your new life... still gotta get a photo of you for I.D. though. Everything okay?" He had a hunch it wasn't, a gut feeling that Kurt's summons weren't just a general checking-in.

He caught both the pack and the lighter, and stuck a smoke between his lips. He missed smoking, but so much else had been happening, it had sort of fallen by the wayside. He took a deep drag and offered them back as he took the bundle Doc was giving him with his other hand. He'd sort of expected help with a new identity, but not without his asking. He was impressed. Kurt started to flip through it, a faint smirk crossing his lips as he saw his own name and he nodded in acknowledgement of what Doc still needed. "I think I have encountered a problem," he stated, calmly enough as his blue eyes scanned the information.

"Problem?" Doc echoed with an even expression. It's been like three days, he thought sarcastically, but decided he didn't know Kurt well enough to joke like that yet. "What sort of problem?" Whatever it was, this was good. This was exactly what he'd chosen the man for; early warnings about threats that might slip under his own awareness.

As an answer, Kurt tucked the packet up under his own arm, reached up and peeled the taped white bandage off of his neck. He arched his head back just a bit to display the tell-tale bite wound in the muscle of his neck. He watched Doc's face, interested in his reaction. He wasn't under any illusion that this was a big deal to a being who could coalesce out of nothing, but ... he would appreciate some answers. "A woman I escorted home last night," he started. "Through my own ignorance, I suppose. We arrived at her home, she took my hand, and I was ... not myself any longer." A faint smirk crossed his face, very briefly.

There were few possibilities to those wounds, and even less once the filter of Doc's experience was applied. "Any gaps in your memory?" he asked, studying the bite for a moment and frowning. "It looks to me like you found yourself a leech... vampire, that is." Thirty years of hunting told him that it was one, and not some minor demon or creature that fed the same. "And 'not yourself' how? Things you'd normally never do?"

Lying about what had happened to him to Doc never even occurred to Kurt. He was on an entirely different level from Natalya. "No real gaps. I remember, it's just unclear," he said, only faintly surprised that he'd been right. He felt much more on his feet today, at least, so the news didn't rock him. "Yes, things I'd never normally do. She incited more lust than I've ever naturally felt in my life." He wasn't going to lie, but he did leave it at that. The other man could fill in his own blanks.

Doc nodded, taking in the information without any remarks or wisecracking. He knew how powerless it felt to be under another's sway, and hated it with all his being. "You remember where she led you, or her name, or anything?" he asked methodically, already mentally prepping for a hunt. "Because you've got the right of it, this is a problem..."

"Her name is Regan," Kurt recited. "I did not get a surname. I can pinpoint her house for you." He agreed it was a problem. Just the way that Natalya's eyes changed when she'd seen the mark on his neck was enough to solidify that in his mind. That, and he did not like being controlled in any manner of means. Even if it had been enjoyable on some level at the time. "What do you propose?"

Plucking a new cigarette from his pack, Doc lit it off his old smoke as his jaw clenched up in thought. "What if I said it was your call? I've hunted vampires for a long time, and my first reaction's always going to be to end them. But this didn't happen to me." His newfound awareness of reality had Doc second-guessing, wondering just how much he could directly interfere in Kurt's path. Marked by him or not, there was still a plan in store for the man that he couldn't know.

Kurt felt a faint bit of surprise, but he considered that as he smoked. His call. Well ... he remembered what the woman looked like. Knew where she lived. Actually knew the layout of her house, even. But he was away from her, and now he knew better. A large part of Kurt said the best idea would be to hunt her down and kill her. However. She hadn't permanently injured him. She'd taken what she wanted -- needed? -- and even ... made him comfortable. It was something to consider. He flicked some ash away and leveled his eyes on Doc again. "Not yet," he answered at last. "If I see her again and don't feel good about it ... then."

Doc didn't like that, but he'd accept it. Nodding faintly, he puffed his smoke down with a crackle and dug his cell phone free. "Fair enough. If you even just want me to pay a visit, make some things clear, I can. I'm told I do scary well," he joked tamely. "Just be careful. I don't think I need to say that, but nothing's simple with their kind. Some of them have a vindictive streak, they hit you where it hurts. Friends, family..." Though it occurred to him, belatedly, that Kurt would have no family left, the warning still held merit.

"I may take you up on that," Kurt answered, even if the offer had been flippant. He had a feeling Doc would be good to his word on that one. He nodded in acknowledgment of the warning, not seeming to be offended or hurt or anything by the mention of family. "I will be vigilant," he said. It was a simple enough promise, but that was something he was more than determined to do. He would protect Natalya, or die doing so.

"Don't need to tell me that," Doc said, fully aware that this was a man of a cut close to his own; trained to do hard things and more than willing if the cause is right. Digging his phone free belatedly, Doc brought it up and aimed the camera lens at Kurt. "Before I forget, say 'new life'," he said with a grin. "And once we get you some identification that's concrete, we'll cover the details." Namely armaments, but Doc wasn't eager to thrust his new compatriot into the struggle headfirst.

He blinked at the device, not getting it at first, as it wasn't like any sort of camera he'd ever seen, but straightened his back and quirked a very small smile anyway. Once Doc lowered the phone, he relaxed his shoulders again. "What is that for?" he inquired. It wasn't like he'd ever really carried a photo driver's license or anything. "Is there more coming that's not in this folder?"

Nodding, Doc glanced down at the screen as he studied the photo. It was nothing amazing, but he knew Teddybear would be able to clean it up flawlessly. "A few things. We carry photo identification these days, with embedded circuitry and all sorts of tricks. They're not tough to forge, but I needed the picture. Once we have that, I'll set you up with a mobile phone like mine. Secure, hard to trace, not on the networks. We'll have a drink some night, I'll show you how to use it all."

Kurt ambled over the few steps to stand at Doc's side and look at the ... phone. Mobile phone. Interesting. And on the tiny screen was an in-color picture of him. Just ... there, not on paper or anything. "The more I learn about this time, the more it amazes me," he murmured, mostly to himself. "I only hope it does not put me at too much of a disadvantage for the work you're having me do." He glanced over. "When we have our drink, I would like to hear what you know, as well. There seems to be much more to the world than I ever dreamed."

"So much that you'd call me mad if I told you half, even after what you've seen." And how much did even Doc really know? What he'd seen, he'd been allowed to see in some effort to, perhaps, enlighten him. "But the technology is something I'm sure you'll pick up, for the most part. All the toys and tricks in the world don't add up to much without a good mind behind them." If he'd been a good assassin in his time? Classically trained, multi-faceted, and willing in his tasks? Doc wouldn't need to give him more than a name.

"At least that hasn't changed," Kurt said with a faint smile. No, he knew that even the most advanced -- for his day, at least -- weapons weren't anything in the hands of those who didn't know how to use them. But if a man was trained correctly? His wits and his hands would do just fine. As long as beings could still be killed in this future, he had a feeling he would assimilate to everything else. He shifted his weight back somewhat and started to rifle through the folder again. Kurt was about to say something else when his eyes skimmed over a page that looked like a bank statement. "... this belongs to me?" he asked.

"Can't live on good intentions," Doc said simply, nodding with the words. Many a year had been spent living so close to the gutter that he could drink from the streets, and the willworker wouldn't inflict that kind of strain on anyone else if he could help it. "It's not a fortune, mind you, though I know it's gotta look like a lot. It's enough for bills, for some expenses... maybe enough for two if you think you can have that in your life." That sort of comfort could help, to be sure. But not without it's own complications.

It sure as hell looked like a lot to Kurt. These people here ... they didn't know what they had. Of course, nothing was as cheap as it was ... "I am very grateful," he said, practical mind already ticking ahead to what he could do with such money. He could most certainly provide for himself instead of relying on Natalya. Maybe enough for two. He wasn't sure if that was a possibility at this point, but ... he'd bear it in mind. "One can never be sure, correct?"

"Correct," Doc answered, smirking a touch. He still didn't know the man beyond the feel that resonated from him, the base recognition, but he liked him. "It's good that you called, Kurt... feel like a coffee?" he asked, nodding away from their seclusion back to the city proper and it's sleepy murmurs. "No better way to greet a new day, in my book." He didn't expect an acceptance, it had to be awkward for Kurt, like Star's offers of companionship to Doc, but the offer was sincere.

Kurt looked musingly in the indicated direction. He could do worse for a morning. But the more practical side of him was insisting that he take some time to look over the things Doc had brought him. "Perhaps next time," he offered with a faint smile. "I have studying to do. And a promise to repair the roof to keep." He chuckled a little. "Though I will see you soon, I feel sure."