Even though he knows she can teleport, it takes him by surprise. But as soon as he sees what she's doing, he grabs a few people, too, so they go with him - including a man with stubble and a mop of dark curly hair who gives him a nod of thanks before starting to immediately round up the others and make a counter-plan to deal with the demon.
Thankfully, since Reira was saving them, it doesn't count as insubordination and neither of them get shocked ... by the chip, at least. Whatever Norman expected, it wasn't this outburst. He ignores Cameron, the dark-haired man, who he's come to know as a capable computer tech and strategist, to stare at Reira: first in shock, then dawning horror. Whether it's the thought of a seven year old in a war zone or the fact that she calls him Uncle Norman, something in what she says breaks through the hyperfocus on E+L he's had since the surgeries. She's right, of course she is: and so was Beck, which stings even more because he'd let the other man down. Even if he hadn't seen Peter, it felt as though he'd let him down, too.
"Reira..."
Slowly, he reaches down and locks the safety clasp on his satchel - a clear signal that he no longer has any intention to use the bombs without careful forethought.
"I ... you're right. I ... I don't know what came over me. There're better ways to go about this. ... Are you ... do you need a minute?"
And then...a sniffle. A shaking, trembling sniffle, before rather than answering she goes for a hug.
It takes a moment before she answers- "...Y...yessss...."
Of course she does. And of course she's going to be honest about it. It's just....
"...I know it's important... ...it's important to everyone, to finish things... ...but it's just...everyone who comes here, has to fight, or else. ...Not everyone can do...show stuff, like singing, or...or dancing or..."
The girl swallows, looking up to Norman- and then, slowly, to the others who came with. "...We've got a choice. ...When we start it by attacking with things that...are only supposed to hurt, people who are scared won't see 'the good guys'. ...They'll see the ones who told them to fight, or get hurt. ...They won't want us to win. ....And in there... ...that's where anyone who doesn't want to fight will be... ...it might even be where someone trying to help us is, if they're looking for secrets..." she mutters, shaking her head.
"...I dunno. ...I just know... ...most of the people in there don't feel like...angry people. ...or people who 'hate', not really. They're just...people."
Another sniff- and she wipes at her eyes.
...
"...'m pretty sure she means what she's doing though," she mutters in admittance. "...she kinda...hurts a bit..."
He folds his arms around her and holds her close, stroking his fingerless-gloved hand over her fiber-optic hair. The hug seems to do them both a world of good, fully grounding Norman and pulling him the rest of the way out of that angry, jittery, defensive mode.
"She hurts?" Norman blinks, surprised. This empathy is news to him, and he wonders if Reira has always had it or, like Peter, it's a power that's returned to her here.
"Anything I can do to help?"
Some of the others mutter things like 'yeah, you can go do your job' and start to try making their way back to the battle zone. Norman winces.
"For what it's worth, Reira, you've convinced me. I - I don't know what came over me. Well. Maybe I do. Otto and Bruno are so happy here, and I - I just - I want them to stay happy. And protecting Elias ... he made all that possible. I thought if I protected him ..."
He breathes in slowly, then shakes his head. "But I could have done that without making weapons. That was unnecessary. That was when I went too far."
"Mnn. It's...well, it's close to hate, but it's mostly anger," she explains calmly, perhaps to the slight surprise of others with Norman. "...I guess that's not surprising, but it's still a lot. ...I can't really turn that off though. ...it's why it's important though. ...Fighting where the fighting is supposed to happen, I mean. ...At least there, they know they're fighting."
....She's quiet for a bit. And then- "...E+L is Elias, but.... ...Elias also isn't E+L, I'm still sure. ...I think...if they were the 'same' the same, we wouldn't be stuck here, or at least, not without any messages. ...Elias doesn't really like it, when he can't get to his friends. ...So...it doesn't seem right- treating them the same."
...
"..........I don't want him to be like this..."
She's not sure what she'll do, if he's already like this.
"...It's hard, to think about the right ways to do stuff. ...It's... ...It's not okay, what almost happened, but..."
The girl gives another hug- assuming the first ever even ended. "...I'm glad you know it's important."
He holds her close a little while longer, as the last of their squad leaves their immediate vicinity, waving the scene off. One of them mutters something about Norman needing to 'babysit', and his hackles momentarily rise. He knows if Reira wanted to, she could take every single one of them ... but in that instant it occurs to him that so much of her power comes from choosing not to.. Just don't Say The Parker Family Curse, Reira... we need you alive.
"So you can literally feel everyone's emotions and hear the entire network." Norman draws back, thinking that he's constantly seeing her with new eyes. "I'm starting to wonder how you even manage to think straight. But never mind that. I have one last sleeping gas bomb in there. I used the other one to get us past the sentries earlier. Might be able to drop that pyromaniac woman and get us all out unscathed."
They're going to mysteriously find their beds filled with itching powder later. It's fine.
True Power is being a little shit sometimes.
"Mnnnh...well, I can't hear the network right now- We're not really connected to Elias right now I guess? It's part of why I'm pretty sure they're not exactly the same....mmm..." Something, something, seacats and whatnot.
But still. The girl blinks. "Oh- Yeah, a sleeping bomb would work pretty good. Actually, using those at the caves is probably a good idea too- I don't think the fog here is good for them... ...I mean...I don't like her at home, obviously, but it doesn't do...whatever it's doing here at least."
It's the kind of power abuse he can still get behind, really. But Reira's comment about not being connected to the network throws him a little, even as he's fishing in his bag for the last sleeping bomb. The top glows a darker green, the pattern down the sides a little different, its lines wavy instead of sharp. He watches the fight unfolding near the mouth of the cave for a moment, thinking, then tosses the bomb toward his decided target. All the skee-ball in Insert Coin and Elias' own arcade has kept Norman's aim true: it lands square at the feet of the demon and looses a massive blue cloud.
"C'mon, kiddo," he says, grabbing Reira by the hand. "That cloud is gonna spread. We should move it."
It's certainly possible. She might even have been here before, who knows?
[he shakes the train of thought off and finally straightens, turning to look at the actuators with wonder. the fission generator and Otto's hubris had been his undoing, just as the formula and Norman's own hubris had been his. They had each still made something good: the armor, the glider, the actuators and their AI. it's not only worth focusing on, but celebrating]
Hello, there. ... You know, this is the first time I've actually gotten to look at them. They're magnificent, Otto - everything that went wrong with the generator aside. These, on their own? Brilliant. Beautiful. ... Just like you.
[A quiet, low laugh escapes Otto and two of the actuators dip themselves a bit closer to Norman. Their jaws are open, the white-blueish light within a pleasant shine.]
What, these old things? [Making light of the compliment was the first instinct to dawn on him, oops. He takes on a more serious tone soon after, though.] I hadn't expected to ever see them again. Not after the way they were... torn from me, half a year ago.
[Norman quirks an eyebrow at the two curious lights, smiling]
Don't mind him, you two... he doesn't like taking credit where it's due.
... Whatever brought us here, apparently this version of Elias is capable of restoring them... he has enough power to resist the Fog's control over us. Keep us the way we should be. Which means it should be possible in the other Ryslig, somehow. But I'm no quantum physicist.
[The actuator's jaws produce the oddest, rapid little movement at Norman's first remark. It's like they're chittering.]
Hmm... It's hard to say. There are certain minor, unseen differences between universes, even those tied closer together. [And he knows this to be fact, since Dillon remarked that electricity felt different to him in the other Peter's world.] We'd have to find out whether every single natural law, as they exist in Ryslig, applies to Felfri in the same way, as well as the Fog's influence on these laws. Though it would be easier simply to ask Elias.
[he says it without any touch of frustration, simply deferring to the actual doctor of physics on this.]
I'll have to ask him when I get a chance. But for now ...
[he takes out his phone and opens his contacts, selecting Peter]
I can tell Peter to let us know if he's here, and we can figure out a place to meet him. If he doesn't respond, we'll know he's not here. Saves us running around like headless chickens, don't you think?
[Otto's gaze flicks to the smartphone in Norman's hand, and he ends up shaking his head with a wry smile. He wasn't much of a cellular phone person back home, so it hadn't really crossed his mind that they could just... use this thing to call someone without even really needing to look up their phone number somewhere. Or send a message, even, like an SMS.]
Of course. Yes. That would be best.
guess which word autocorrect tried to capitalize in this tag?
[Otto tries not to peek over Norman's shoulder while the man types, but he's sure he approves of the message. He trusts Norman to compile something for the both of them.
When his hand is taken, he squeezes back firmly.]
Yes, let's. I haven't gotten to see too much of this place yet. I was a bit too focused on tracking down familiar faces.
[he chuckles a little, then gestures to their surroundings at large]
If you're hungry, I know there's a massive food court that way that'd give a cardiologist nightmares for months. Or we could see what's in the other direction... honestly, I don't care what we do. I just want to spend time with you where we aren't worried about something or someone... it feels like this is the first time I've really been able to breathe easy in ...
[Oh, that food court sounds so very unappealing to Otto. And he should've expected it, given the appearance of this place, but even so... Ugh. Why, Elias, why.
It's indeed far more important to focus on Norman and on the situation itself. Odd as this place is, it still feels far more normal than Ryslig. Perhaps not more peaceful, but more workable. Easier to adapt to. It's a welcome reprieve, and one to enjoy.]
If you want to keep breathing easy, we should steer clear of that food court. [He nudges Norman's shoulder with his own in a playful manner.] Let's explore elsewhere, just the two of us.
Listen, just because there's a hot dog cart in my lobby doesn't mean it's all I eat.
[he wrinkles his nose at Otto in kind, and takes his hand, happy to lean against him just a little as they head away from the fried food smorgasbord. there are signs for the ball pits, laser tag...]
[Which would be understandable, really. When one's hard at work, the temptation to grab something quick and easy is extremely high. Even so... There should've been a salad bar in that lobby, in Otto's opinion.
When Norman leans against him, Otto leans right back, content with the pressure it brings to his arm. It feels nice. Comforting.]
Oh... So it is. I wonder what sort of movies they'd show in a place like this. [Trøn???]
[if he doesn't like the cart, he can take it up with Mana for putting it there. She'd only been trying to give them An Authentic New York Experience, after all. You can't blame a girl/bird/bat/cryptid for trying.]
Let's have a look.
[Norman pads up to the poster: a small band of people dressed in medieval clothes, brandishing weapons and shields as lines of orange computer text flank the outside margins. "Feberdröm," the poster proclaims in sweeping script. Norman leans in and squints: thankfully not at the woman in the chain mail bikini or her leather armor-clad companions,but the tagline.]
"Their story is over. But their lives are just beginning." ... That tells me absolutely nothing.
For now, though, he'll focus his attention on the poster, taking in all the curious little details. What is with those outfits? See, this is why he's more of a docudrama person. Believable, historical accuracy beats nonsensical fiction any day. He'll try not to be too much of a buzzkill, though. Rosie's already given him enough earfuls about that in the past.]
It looks like Conan the Barbarian, but with a grander budget.
[a snort of laughter] You say that as though either of us would have actually sat through Conan the Barbarian.
[Norman turns to the person manning the box office] Excuse me, what can you tell me about this?
"Oh, it's the number one movie in Bavan, has been all month. It's about these people who find out that what they thought was their whole real life was just one gigantic dream, and they have to figure out how to wake up. People who like just about all kinds of movies have come out saying they loved it: action movie fans, philosophical indie drama types, sci-fi people..."
[Fair, he's never sat through it. He's caught glimpses of it, though. It was a thing.
He listens to the plot summary with a light frown, his gaze straying towards the poster again. So the odd outfits are part of the dream they have to wake up from, right? That must be what it is. Alright, now he can tolerate it more.]
... Putting it like that, that doesn't even sound half bad.
[it's a little noise of agreement, as he gives the poster a second thoughtful look of his own. he raises an eyebrow, glancing at Otto out of the corner of his eye]
You wanna try it? Been a long time since I've been to a movie.
[Tempting... Very tempting. One of the tentacles is already inching closer to the ticket booth, as if to say "go for it!" Otto hesitates, though, his gaze going from the poster to the ticket booth, then on to Norman.]
... No word from Peter yet? [What if something happens and they're too busy seeing a movie to react?]
Yes and no ... it looks like he's having difficulty getting good reception.
[he looks up at the marquee, then texts Peter back, hunting-and-pecking at the little screen, making faces when he fat-fingers a letter or two and has to fix it]
Next show doesn't start for another fifteen minutes or so. And I'm sure it'll be showing again tomorrow if we have to leave to help Peter.
[Hmmm... Does the reception problem imply that Peter's still in Ryslig? It'd make sense if the smartphones were struggling to connect to a network based in an adjacent universe. And if he is in Ryslig, is he better off there?
Otto hums thoughtfully, standing up a bit straighter.]
Then, let's give it another ten minutes and buy the tickets if there's no clear sign of trouble.
Norman's face crinkles into surprised disgust as Quentin bats the frog away. It lands useless and sparking on the pavement, thankfully sparing his and Steven's dinner.
"I never said I was better than you. STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH. You know what I think? I think you're just still LOOKING for someone you can hate as much as Tony Stark and since I'm the closest thing you can find, you're just making it happen!"
"I never said you were better than me, you-" Quentin makes an angry mouth sound, gnashing his teeth a little. The Fog is murmuring rip, bite, tear but he's not getting in arm's reach of Norman.
Not again, never again if he can help it, because he knows what Norman can do even if the man says he's all above it now. Obviously he isn't, if he's doing this.
"This is soapbox bullshit! Making excuses so you can sleep at night! You went from sobbing over May Parker to this, what the fuck ate your brain to make this seem like a bright fucking idea, Osborn-"
Quentin's angry about plenty of things recently. Stark barely makes the list today. His grip on the bag tightens again, and if it gets swung again? The fried tofu will probably end up all over the place.
Mentioning May was either the best or the worst thing Beck could have done, and it's extremely clear from the way Norman looks as though he's been slapped that he's trying to decide which way the scales will tip.
In that moment, he faces the first true test of all the work he's been doing since June: whether or not to give in to the knee-jerk hair trigger of rage that accompanies his shame at being called out, or calmly receive what Beck's saying and accept, continue the conversation. A shudder crawls from the crown of his head down his spine and twists his stomach, and his fingers tighten around the strap of his bag.
Breathing hard, Norman knows what he should do. But here under Elias' influence? He also knows what he wants to do, and Beck is clearly heading for the caves, on the other side. His face twists in disgust, and Beck will likely think it's directed out at him, not inward.
"And you?" He says, deciding that if he shouldn't lash out with violence, words might be an alternative. "I didn't think you the type to go running to the Fog, either."
Quentin laughs, and it's sharp. A little wild as he cocks his head to the side. His grin may not be visible behind the scarf over his mouth, but it isn't kind. The wings disturb his coat again, a hint of green neon visible in the usual pattern.
"What can I say? Not all of us can be super-soldiers. Not all of us want to be chipped like pets. So."
A jerky shrug, shoulders shifting oddly. Like he's a bit more monster than man. "Safety, certainty. I'll take this over being nothing any day."
He'll take the opportunity to fight with teeth and claw instead of walking some metaphorical tightrope again, trying not to fall out of good graces. He's fallen enough times, shattered at least once, and so- he has teeth. And he'll make that everybody's problem.
He snorts, face contorting for an instant into a snarl that's almost an echo of Alton's ... but he catches his own leash. May. May. Peter, Bruno, Otto, Isabel, Chiaki, Reira... He says their names like a rosary in his mind, until calm finds him again. He has the presence of mind to actually look embarrassed for a moment, even uncertain, before licking smoke-and-dust-dried lips to speak again, quietly.
"Think whatever you want about me for following Elias. But 'nothing' is exactly what you mean to the Fog in the end. Look around, Beck. Think of every single month we've been here. D'you really think that the Fog is the poster God for stability?"
Ah, so Norman hasn't realized that not everybody would even want to be human and 'normal' again in a place like this. How quaint. The snarl does make him pause, but the sharp amusement cuts through most of the fear. A bit of Fog-provided bravado keeps him from backing down.
"Oooh, temper temper, Osborn. I thought you'd rehabilitated. I'm the snarling beast here, right?" He waggles a finger mockingly, and the levity in his voice rings hollow. "And you think I'm in this for the long-haul? Really?" Another laugh. It's the most genuine laugh he's had in Felfri. "You of all people should know how the world works. Power, strength... The Fog gives me tooth and claw. That is stability I'll take."
It's not something that can be ripped out of him at a different god's whims, like that tech shit. He'll take this, even if it's just as temporary as everything else.
That hollow tone isn't lost on him, and now that Norman's got himself grounded, he sees that this is just the same old game: Beck with his hackles up, snarling and spitting and barking because he's too desperate, bitter, and scared to do much else.
He remembers feeling that way. He knows what it got him. But he also knows that trying to draw any sort of paralell between them will just pour more gasoline on the fire. Norman sighs, shaking his head, not wanting to play the game. Not when he might have to protect people in his battalion if they're discovered. For so many reasons, this isn't the place or the time for any sort of lasting conversation.
Thankfully, the other Fourthies are starting to withdraw, having set whatever other obstacles and traps they came to put out. It doesn't seem to matter to them that Norman hasn't deployed his bombs - they had other supplies, after all, other nasty surprises. He frowns.
"It isn't my place to tell you who to be or what to do. Just ... watch yourself on your way back in. I don't know what they put down."
One of E+L's team captains hollers for him, and he turns to move off with the rest. Whether Beck tries to follow or get in one last shot is up to him.
He steps back once she mentions hovering, giving her enough room to demonstrate what she ended up with.
"Hmmmm." He tilts his head a little, thinking. "It might be possible to give you more lift. Especially if we boost the nanotech ... increase the ..."
He pulls out a clear acrylic holopad and starts scribbling notes as he mutters to himself: formulas, trajectories, complicated equations. Every now and again he looks up to study Chiaki's feet again for a moment.
"I think we can do it. You might have a limit on height, but it would still definitely be flight and not hovering. I'll have to requisition the statistics on that tech and do some calculations, so it'd take me a couple of days. Can you wait that long?"
She watches him with fascination as he works, with technology far beyond anything she's seen other than in movies and videogames. And the entire time, she stays floating - because even if it's just an inch or so above the ground, flying is still cool.
"Mm! I can wait!!" But she's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in the air, despite them not touching the ground. She wants to fly now. "That would be amazing!! Thank you!"
He chuckles softly when he glances up to see her bouncing on air.
"Would you like to help? I can teach you a few things about engineering ... there's going to be a chip system involved. Learning electrical programming could come in handy back at Insert Coin..."
He glances up and gives her a smile that's both knowing and expectant, in the way that Dork Dads seem to do so well.
"You can?" She lands back on her feet, still looking at him all curious wonder. "But... the technology here is so much more advanced than Insert Coin... is it really that similar?"
"The programming language is a little bit different, but the basic principles are the same. It'll be transferrable knowledge, trust me."
He motions her over to his worktable and opens a drawer, pulling out a blank circuit board. It's more advanced than what she'd be used to - made of different material, more spaces to add components, et cetera - but it's still recognizable. instead of a bin of transistors, tiny striped resistors, capacitors, and LED diodes, the only tool is a stylus linked to a machine loaded with spools of thin, brightly colored filaments.
"These filaments take the place of the parts you're used to seeing on a board." He points them out with the same level of excitement he must have had upon discovering the lab and going through it. "Each color has a different function coded into the fiber-optics. So we're going to use the same patterns and principles, we just have a lot more versatility. ... Remarkable, isn'it?"
"You're sure?" He looks at the offered gadget with wonder. Usually he's the one saying 'you like it? here, just take it', and the gesture throws him for a loop. Norman purses his lips together and waves Beat off with a shake of his head. "I don't want you to go without. You can just tell me where you got it and I can buy my own."
Then Beat shifts, and Norman doesn't mind - it's comfortable. Harry never hung out with him like this, and Peter has a different way of being close: for the pooka it's usually blanket piles on the couch and whatever old movie Phil is broadcasting that week, with a pile of snacks to boot. This is just ... casual, an afterthought, something that suggests how comfortable Beat is around him, even in public. Norman's heart feels warm in a way he's begun to crave the way he used to need a glass of whiskey at night to sleep.
He listens, and soon realizes he's being given a confession: one Beat might be a little nervous about. But Norman is mystified. Mystified, and, yes, a little jealous that Beat didn't ask for his help as well. But he can understand: he'd been deep in his own research on the medicines, after all. Jealousy isn't the important thing here.
"That's incredible," he says, matching Beat's volume so that he doesn't draw attention to them there on the bench. "You did ... all that? That must have taken so long. But - but Beat, look what you did. D'you know how happy so many people are to be themselves again?"
Incredible, Norman says, and Beat hesitates. Because not a lot of people would agree. He's heard more anger about it, than happiness. Even from other Fourth followers. Marco cowering in a cave. Reira stepping away. Josh getting shocked because he's trying to help others to avoid it all.
His exhale is shaky and he tucks his little stick back against the phone. Then pops it off again. Then tucks it back. A nervous fidget. "It," he starts, then stops. Pop. Tuck. "It took months, yo. I didn't tell anyone, cause I wasn't sure." Who would stop him, who would tell someone who shouldn't know, who to trust. Plus he legit just forgot some people, so wrapped up in the feeling of helping his friend out.
"Lotsa peeps angry 'bout it, too." The last bit is said even quieter, and Beat tucks his knees up further, like he's trying to make himself smaller. "I like Felfri, yo. Yeah the cams everywhere kinda weird, like hey perve quit it, but. Ain't no one needed to eat peeps, ain't in pain cuz we been forced into new weird ass shapes. I almost forgot what I looked like, you know?"
"It's alright, kiddo," Norman says, pushing back against him a little in a reassuring nudge. "You were trying to innovate, to help people. You just... didn't think about the choice factor, and that's what people get the most upset about. They didn't have the option to choose this over Ryslig. But you're young yet, you're impulsive, that sort of thing happens."
He sighs. "Hell, it happens even when you're older. Reira had to get me back down to Earth a little myself, the other day..."
That was the biggest thing. Choice. No one liked it when the Fog did it, why would it be any better with Elias doing it. But... Elias - E+L - whoever it is, isn't doing it to force people to be pawns. They're not turning into monsters and devouring humans. All they have to do is relax and have fun. Be Happy.
It makes him sigh a little, leaning his head back to rest it on Norman, turning his gaze a little to the side at him, curious. "What happened?" The words are a little clipped at the end as he realizes that, maybe, Norman doesn't want to talk about it. "Uh," he hastily adds, "if you wanna talk 'but it. If not, s'cool. Shit happens, ya know?"
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certaininequities) wrote2022-10-21 09:09 am
For Reira
Thankfully, since Reira was saving them, it doesn't count as insubordination and neither of them get shocked ... by the chip, at least. Whatever Norman expected, it wasn't this outburst. He ignores Cameron, the dark-haired man, who he's come to know as a capable computer tech and strategist, to stare at Reira: first in shock, then dawning horror. Whether it's the thought of a seven year old in a war zone or the fact that she calls him Uncle Norman, something in what she says breaks through the hyperfocus on E+L he's had since the surgeries. She's right, of course she is: and so was Beck, which stings even more because he'd let the other man down. Even if he hadn't seen Peter, it felt as though he'd let him down, too.
"Reira..."
Slowly, he reaches down and locks the safety clasp on his satchel - a clear signal that he no longer has any intention to use the bombs without careful forethought.
"I ... you're right. I ... I don't know what came over me. There're better ways to go about this. ... Are you ... do you need a minute?"
no subject
And then...a sniffle. A shaking, trembling sniffle, before rather than answering she goes for a hug.
It takes a moment before she answers- "...Y...yessss...."
Of course she does. And of course she's going to be honest about it. It's just....
"...I know it's important... ...it's important to everyone, to finish things... ...but it's just...everyone who comes here, has to fight, or else. ...Not everyone can do...show stuff, like singing, or...or dancing or..."
The girl swallows, looking up to Norman- and then, slowly, to the others who came with. "...We've got a choice. ...When we start it by attacking with things that...are only supposed to hurt, people who are scared won't see 'the good guys'. ...They'll see the ones who told them to fight, or get hurt. ...They won't want us to win. ....And in there... ...that's where anyone who doesn't want to fight will be... ...it might even be where someone trying to help us is, if they're looking for secrets..." she mutters, shaking her head.
"...I dunno. ...I just know... ...most of the people in there don't feel like...angry people. ...or people who 'hate', not really. They're just...people."
Another sniff- and she wipes at her eyes.
...
"...'m pretty sure she means what she's doing though," she mutters in admittance. "...she kinda...hurts a bit..."
no subject
"She hurts?" Norman blinks, surprised. This empathy is news to him, and he wonders if Reira has always had it or, like Peter, it's a power that's returned to her here.
"Anything I can do to help?"
Some of the others mutter things like 'yeah, you can go do your job' and start to try making their way back to the battle zone. Norman winces.
"For what it's worth, Reira, you've convinced me. I - I don't know what came over me. Well. Maybe I do. Otto and Bruno are so happy here, and I - I just - I want them to stay happy. And protecting Elias ... he made all that possible. I thought if I protected him ..."
He breathes in slowly, then shakes his head. "But I could have done that without making weapons. That was unnecessary. That was when I went too far."
no subject
....She's quiet for a bit. And then- "...E+L is Elias, but.... ...Elias also isn't E+L, I'm still sure. ...I think...if they were the 'same' the same, we wouldn't be stuck here, or at least, not without any messages. ...Elias doesn't really like it, when he can't get to his friends. ...So...it doesn't seem right- treating them the same."
...
"..........I don't want him to be like this..."
She's not sure what she'll do, if he's already like this.
"...It's hard, to think about the right ways to do stuff. ...It's... ...It's not okay, what almost happened, but..."
The girl gives another hug- assuming the first ever even ended. "...I'm glad you know it's important."
no subject
Just don't Say The Parker Family Curse, Reira... we need you alive."So you can literally feel everyone's emotions and hear the entire network." Norman draws back, thinking that he's constantly seeing her with new eyes. "I'm starting to wonder how you even manage to think straight. But never mind that. I have one last sleeping gas bomb in there. I used the other one to get us past the sentries earlier. Might be able to drop that pyromaniac woman and get us all out unscathed."
no subject
True Power is being a little shit sometimes.
"Mnnnh...well, I can't hear the network right now- We're not really connected to Elias right now I guess? It's part of why I'm pretty sure they're not exactly the same....mmm..." Something, something, seacats and whatnot.
But still. The girl blinks. "Oh- Yeah, a sleeping bomb would work pretty good. Actually, using those at the caves is probably a good idea too- I don't think the fog here is good for them... ...I mean...I don't like her at home, obviously, but it doesn't do...whatever it's doing here at least."
Feels kinda...funky.
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"C'mon, kiddo," he says, grabbing Reira by the hand. "That cloud is gonna spread. We should move it."
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"Mnh. Yeah, let's go."
Off they go.
They can talk later.
Just not at the right time.no subject
[he shakes the train of thought off and finally straightens, turning to look at the actuators with wonder.
the fission generator and Otto's hubris had been his undoing, just as the formula and Norman's own hubris had been his. They had each still made something good: the armor, the glider, the actuators and their AI. it's not only worth focusing on, but celebrating]
Hello, there. ... You know, this is the first time I've actually gotten to look at them. They're magnificent, Otto - everything that went wrong with the generator aside. These, on their own? Brilliant. Beautiful. ... Just like you.
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What, these old things? [Making light of the compliment was the first instinct to dawn on him, oops. He takes on a more serious tone soon after, though.] I hadn't expected to ever see them again. Not after the way they were... torn from me, half a year ago.
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Don't mind him, you two... he doesn't like taking credit where it's due.
... Whatever brought us here, apparently this version of Elias is capable of restoring them... he has enough power to resist the Fog's control over us. Keep us the way we should be. Which means it should be possible in the other Ryslig, somehow. But I'm no quantum physicist.
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Hmm... It's hard to say. There are certain minor, unseen differences between universes, even those tied closer together. [And he knows this to be fact, since Dillon remarked that electricity felt different to him in the other Peter's world.] We'd have to find out whether every single natural law, as they exist in Ryslig, applies to Felfri in the same way, as well as the Fog's influence on these laws. Though it would be easier simply to ask Elias.
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[he says it without any touch of frustration, simply deferring to the actual doctor of physics on this.]
I'll have to ask him when I get a chance. But for now ...
[he takes out his phone and opens his contacts, selecting Peter]
I can tell Peter to let us know if he's here, and we can figure out a place to meet him. If he doesn't respond, we'll know he's not here. Saves us running around like headless chickens, don't you think?
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Of course. Yes. That would be best.
guess which word autocorrect tried to capitalize in this tag?
[it takes a little fumbling, but he sends Peter a message in the sense of Texting Dads Everywhere]
There. That ought do it.
[he takes Otto's hand again and smiles]
Now then, wanna take a look around?
it was clearly "party"
When his hand is taken, he squeezes back firmly.]
Yes, let's. I haven't gotten to see too much of this place yet. I was a bit too focused on tracking down familiar faces.
Clearly!
[he chuckles a little, then gestures to their surroundings at large]
If you're hungry, I know there's a massive food court that way that'd give a cardiologist nightmares for months. Or we could see what's in the other direction... honestly, I don't care what we do. I just want to spend time with you where we aren't worried about something or someone... it feels like this is the first time I've really been able to breathe easy in ...
[he shakes his head, amazed] ... Almost a year.
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It's indeed far more important to focus on Norman and on the situation itself. Odd as this place is, it still feels far more normal than Ryslig. Perhaps not more peaceful, but more workable. Easier to adapt to. It's a welcome reprieve, and one to enjoy.]
If you want to keep breathing easy, we should steer clear of that food court. [He nudges Norman's shoulder with his own in a playful manner.] Let's explore elsewhere, just the two of us.
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[he wrinkles his nose at Otto in kind, and takes his hand, happy to lean against him just a little as they head away from the fried food smorgasbord. there are signs for the ball pits, laser tag...]
... Is that a movie theater?
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[Which would be understandable, really. When one's hard at work, the temptation to grab something quick and easy is extremely high. Even so... There should've been a salad bar in that lobby, in Otto's opinion.
When Norman leans against him, Otto leans right back, content with the pressure it brings to his arm. It feels nice. Comforting.]
Oh... So it is. I wonder what sort of movies they'd show in a place like this. [Trøn???]
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Let's have a look.
[Norman pads up to the poster: a small band of people dressed in medieval clothes, brandishing weapons and shields as lines of orange computer text flank the outside margins. "Feberdröm," the poster proclaims in sweeping script. Norman leans in and squints: thankfully not at the woman in the chain mail bikini or her leather armor-clad companions,but the tagline.]
"Their story is over. But their lives are just beginning." ... That tells me absolutely nothing.
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For now, though, he'll focus his attention on the poster, taking in all the curious little details. What is with those outfits? See, this is why he's more of a docudrama person. Believable, historical accuracy beats nonsensical fiction any day. He'll try not to be too much of a buzzkill, though. Rosie's already given him enough earfuls about that in the past.]
It looks like Conan the Barbarian, but with a grander budget.
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[Norman turns to the person manning the box office] Excuse me, what can you tell me about this?
"Oh, it's the number one movie in Bavan, has been all month. It's about these people who find out that what they thought was their whole real life was just one gigantic dream, and they have to figure out how to wake up. People who like just about all kinds of movies have come out saying they loved it: action movie fans, philosophical indie drama types, sci-fi people..."
Huh...
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He listens to the plot summary with a light frown, his gaze straying towards the poster again. So the odd outfits are part of the dream they have to wake up from, right? That must be what it is. Alright, now he can tolerate it more.]
... Putting it like that, that doesn't even sound half bad.
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[it's a little noise of agreement, as he gives the poster a second thoughtful look of his own. he raises an eyebrow, glancing at Otto out of the corner of his eye]
You wanna try it? Been a long time since I've been to a movie.
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... No word from Peter yet? [What if something happens and they're too busy seeing a movie to react?]
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Yes and no ... it looks like he's having difficulty getting good reception.
[he looks up at the marquee, then texts Peter back, hunting-and-pecking at the little screen, making faces when he fat-fingers a letter or two and has to fix it]
Next show doesn't start for another fifteen minutes or so. And I'm sure it'll be showing again tomorrow if we have to leave to help Peter.
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Otto hums thoughtfully, standing up a bit straighter.]
Then, let's give it another ten minutes and buy the tickets if there's no clear sign of trouble.
For Beck
"I never said I was better than you. STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH. You know what I think? I think you're just still LOOKING for someone you can hate as much as Tony Stark and since I'm the closest thing you can find, you're just making it happen!"
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Not again, never again if he can help it, because he knows what Norman can do even if the man says he's all above it now. Obviously he isn't, if he's doing this.
"This is soapbox bullshit! Making excuses so you can sleep at night! You went from sobbing over May Parker to this, what the fuck ate your brain to make this seem like a bright fucking idea, Osborn-"
Quentin's angry about plenty of things recently. Stark barely makes the list today. His grip on the bag tightens again, and if it gets swung again? The fried tofu will probably end up all over the place.
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In that moment, he faces the first true test of all the work he's been doing since June: whether or not to give in to the knee-jerk hair trigger of rage that accompanies his shame at being called out, or calmly receive what Beck's saying and accept, continue the conversation. A shudder crawls from the crown of his head down his spine and twists his stomach, and his fingers tighten around the strap of his bag.
Breathing hard, Norman knows what he should do. But here under Elias' influence? He also knows what he wants to do, and Beck is clearly heading for the caves, on the other side. His face twists in disgust, and Beck will likely think it's directed out at him, not inward.
"And you?" He says, deciding that if he shouldn't lash out with violence, words might be an alternative. "I didn't think you the type to go running to the Fog, either."
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"What can I say? Not all of us can be super-soldiers. Not all of us want to be chipped like pets. So."
A jerky shrug, shoulders shifting oddly. Like he's a bit more monster than man. "Safety, certainty. I'll take this over being nothing any day."
He'll take the opportunity to fight with teeth and claw instead of walking some metaphorical tightrope again, trying not to fall out of good graces. He's fallen enough times, shattered at least once, and so- he has teeth. And he'll make that everybody's problem.
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He snorts, face contorting for an instant into a snarl that's almost an echo of Alton's ... but he catches his own leash. May. May. Peter, Bruno, Otto, Isabel, Chiaki, Reira... He says their names like a rosary in his mind, until calm finds him again. He has the presence of mind to actually look embarrassed for a moment, even uncertain, before licking smoke-and-dust-dried lips to speak again, quietly.
"Think whatever you want about me for following Elias. But 'nothing' is exactly what you mean to the Fog in the end. Look around, Beck. Think of every single month we've been here. D'you really think that the Fog is the poster God for stability?"
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"Oooh, temper temper, Osborn. I thought you'd rehabilitated. I'm the snarling beast here, right?" He waggles a finger mockingly, and the levity in his voice rings hollow. "And you think I'm in this for the long-haul? Really?" Another laugh. It's the most genuine laugh he's had in Felfri. "You of all people should know how the world works. Power, strength... The Fog gives me tooth and claw. That is stability I'll take."
It's not something that can be ripped out of him at a different god's whims, like that tech shit. He'll take this, even if it's just as temporary as everything else.
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He remembers feeling that way. He knows what it got him. But he also knows that trying to draw any sort of paralell between them will just pour more gasoline on the fire. Norman sighs, shaking his head, not wanting to play the game. Not when he might have to protect people in his battalion if they're discovered. For so many reasons, this isn't the place or the time for any sort of lasting conversation.
Thankfully, the other Fourthies are starting to withdraw, having set whatever other obstacles and traps they came to put out. It doesn't seem to matter to them that Norman hasn't deployed his bombs - they had other supplies, after all, other nasty surprises. He frowns.
"It isn't my place to tell you who to be or what to do. Just ... watch yourself on your way back in. I don't know what they put down."
One of E+L's team captains hollers for him, and he turns to move off with the rest. Whether Beck tries to follow or get in one last shot is up to him.
For Chiaki
"Hmmmm." He tilts his head a little, thinking. "It might be possible to give you more lift. Especially if we boost the nanotech ... increase the ..."
He pulls out a clear acrylic holopad and starts scribbling notes as he mutters to himself: formulas, trajectories, complicated equations. Every now and again he looks up to study Chiaki's feet again for a moment.
"I think we can do it. You might have a limit on height, but it would still definitely be flight and not hovering. I'll have to requisition the statistics on that tech and do some calculations, so it'd take me a couple of days. Can you wait that long?"
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"Mm! I can wait!!" But she's practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in the air, despite them not touching the ground. She wants to fly now. "That would be amazing!! Thank you!"
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"Would you like to help? I can teach you a few things about engineering ... there's going to be a chip system involved. Learning electrical programming could come in handy back at Insert Coin..."
He glances up and gives her a smile that's both knowing and expectant, in the way that Dork Dads seem to do so well.
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He motions her over to his worktable and opens a drawer, pulling out a blank circuit board. It's more advanced than what she'd be used to - made of different material, more spaces to add components, et cetera - but it's still recognizable. instead of a bin of transistors, tiny striped resistors, capacitors, and LED diodes, the only tool is a stylus linked to a machine loaded with spools of thin, brightly colored filaments.
"These filaments take the place of the parts you're used to seeing on a board." He points them out with the same level of excitement he must have had upon discovering the lab and going through it. "Each color has a different function coded into the fiber-optics. So we're going to use the same patterns and principles, we just have a lot more versatility. ... Remarkable, isn'it?"
For Beat
Then Beat shifts, and Norman doesn't mind - it's comfortable. Harry never hung out with him like this, and Peter has a different way of being close: for the pooka it's usually blanket piles on the couch and whatever old movie Phil is broadcasting that week, with a pile of snacks to boot. This is just ... casual, an afterthought, something that suggests how comfortable Beat is around him, even in public. Norman's heart feels warm in a way he's begun to crave the way he used to need a glass of whiskey at night to sleep.
He listens, and soon realizes he's being given a confession: one Beat might be a little nervous about. But Norman is mystified. Mystified, and, yes, a little jealous that Beat didn't ask for his help as well. But he can understand: he'd been deep in his own research on the medicines, after all. Jealousy isn't the important thing here.
"That's incredible," he says, matching Beat's volume so that he doesn't draw attention to them there on the bench. "You did ... all that? That must have taken so long. But - but Beat, look what you did. D'you know how happy so many people are to be themselves again?"
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His exhale is shaky and he tucks his little stick back against the phone. Then pops it off again. Then tucks it back. A nervous fidget. "It," he starts, then stops. Pop. Tuck. "It took months, yo. I didn't tell anyone, cause I wasn't sure." Who would stop him, who would tell someone who shouldn't know, who to trust. Plus he legit just forgot some people, so wrapped up in the feeling of helping his friend out.
"Lotsa peeps angry 'bout it, too." The last bit is said even quieter, and Beat tucks his knees up further, like he's trying to make himself smaller. "I like Felfri, yo. Yeah the cams everywhere kinda weird, like hey perve quit it, but. Ain't no one needed to eat peeps, ain't in pain cuz we been forced into new weird ass shapes. I almost forgot what I looked like, you know?"
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He sighs. "Hell, it happens even when you're older. Reira had to get me back down to Earth a little myself, the other day..."
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It makes him sigh a little, leaning his head back to rest it on Norman, turning his gaze a little to the side at him, curious. "What happened?" The words are a little clipped at the end as he realizes that, maybe, Norman doesn't want to talk about it. "Uh," he hastily adds, "if you wanna talk 'but it. If not, s'cool. Shit happens, ya know?"