maskormenacelogs | we are rehabilitated haunted house criminals

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we are rehabilitated haunted house criminals

WHO: Danger, Marty
WHERE: MF10
WHEN: later in October
WHAT: we no longer destroy bad haunted houses, we make homemade knitwear
WARNINGS: n o

See, here's where I messed up...

[Martin smooths out the length of knitted fabric -- it was meant to be a sleeve, but it gets far too narrow as it goes. he tugs it over his hand until it gets stuck on his knuckles to further demonstrate.]

That's why it's no good now. I have to start over.

[he's sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to the robot who punched out a wall for him -- and got him a very blunt, kind of weird-yet-endearing cake before that. she's odd, yes, but...she's not unkind. it's weird. weird that she's taken to asking him about this hobby of his, weird because he can't tell beyond the questions if it's even interesting or not to her.

just.

weird.]

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[ To be fair, weird is... A pretty good description of her. And he wouldn't be the first person that found her to be strange. Particularly in her approach to friendship. And perhaps it speaks to her strangeness that she ironically sees nothing strange at all about what they're doing now: Her, a killer robot, and him, a small organic weapons factory, sitting together trying to troubleshoot his knitting. ]

Perhaps periodic testing would help.
To ensure that the diameter of the sleeve remains more or less constant.
Your own arms are much too small, of course, but mine are the approximate equivalent of a human adult's.

Well, maybe, but... [frown.] But I'd have to have someone sit for a while while I try to get something to the right size... That'd be a long time of doing nothing.

[and long time of doing nothing isn't great; he knows from his great experience.]

We can talk.

[ She puts her arm out as if to offer. ]

And failing that, I can do my work remotely.
With my mind.
Remotely.
I will not get bored.

[he stares at her for a beat, from arm to face, starting to squint.]

...With...your mind? What do you mean? Just--just thinking about work? What work?

Yes.
I am connected to the Internet and the Network remotely.

[ She continues to hold her arm out. Not like she'll get tired or anything. ]

I work in security for some of the other ImPorts.
I have a certain talent for such things.
Protecting and containing.

So you...look after people, just by thinking about it? [if such powers were available back home, she'd be the best Lumas around, he thinks. there's no real comparison for what she can do there, but...if she can be anywhere and still know how to protect things wherever they are?]

Wow...

[ That is one way of thinking about it. ]

More or less.
Obviously there are certain measures I can only take by being there physically, but I have ways of at least observing and being aware of them even when I am far away.

[ HONESTLY IT'S KIND OF CREEPY. ]

It is important to me that I keep those close to me safe.

[this is some high-level Lumas-tier monitoring, Danger. Martin is genuinely surprised that this is a thing...and honestly he can't wholly picture it? just sitting somewhere but instantly knowing where, say, Andy or Cassandra are at any given time without having to ask.]

That's amazing... I mean--[blink blink.] How, how can you talk and do that at the same time? I'd get a headache trying to, uh...do more than three things at once...

That is because your brain is made of soft tissue.
And my brain is made of complicated computer parts.
I have control over what parts of my processing power are dedicated to various tasks.
It makes me a very efficient multitasker.

[ AS IF THIS IS ALL VERY NORMAL... ]

That is why I do not mind lingering here a while with you.
It will not keep me from my responsibilities.

Oh... [again: blink blink. squishy brains, computer brains...

long story short: any opportunity she has to eke out of this has been denied, and she is fine with being a yarn measure.]

Then, since it's alright...I-I'll use you to make sure the sleeve is big enough. Thank you...

You're welcome.

[ She continues to hold her arm out, clearly not at any risk of getting tired and exceptionally steady. In fact, she hasn't moved an inch since she first offered her arm to him — like a mannequin, except more prone to asking uncomfortable questions. ]

Is there a reason you are preparing this gift?
Or is it simply for the sake of gift-giving?

Andy asked me to. [that's the origin of it, for sure. but that was a long time ago, and the meaning has since changed from a simple favor to something with ever-increasing value.] She wants to give him a sweater, but she doesn't like to knit as much...so I said I would.

[beat.

oh--]

It's supposed to be a secret...

[ Andy. She was interesting, as far as humans went. Hard and soft at the same time. ]

You do not have to be concerned.
I will not tell anyone.

[ A pause, then a bit curiously: ]

Do you like it better here?
With her.
With them.

[her question gives him pause, leaving him hold pieces of yarn he'd wrapped about her wrist in place as he glances back up, processes, and wonders.

better?]

...Better than...where I'm from, you mean?

Yes.
Better than your home universe.

[ Patiently, she continues to hold her arm out as they talk. ]

[he goes quiet for a bit, withdrawing his hands to leave the yarn to dangle as it pleases, clasping his fingers in his lap while he ponders.

it's a tough thing to think about -- comparing home to here. more often than not, he still feels stabs of guilt for realizing how far he's strayed from the life he'd been raised to know. those are his roots, the place that made him...this place didn't want him so much as just...grab him by chance. and some of the people he loves here...they, too...some of that was chance.

not all of it. not anymore, anyway.]

It's...better to be here. [he nods faintly.] Being a Darkov, I...I don't fit right, but. I didn't fit right there, either. And that was worse there.

I think here is...I mean, if I have to be anywhere, I should stay here. And learn to help them. Rex and the others, I mean. [it's the least he can do, after all.

...not that this actually answers her question the way she asked, but. hey.]

[ It's as good an answer as any. She didn't have any particular expectations — she was only curious, as she ever is. Trying to understand. Wanting to parse his otherness and compare it to her own. Even as a member of the X-Men — an important member, charged with protecting and rescuing their leaders — she'd always been different. An outsider of sorts. And that's something Martin seems to understand. ]

Were you loved, being a Darkov?

[ A fair enough question, she thinks. ]

You seem to be well-loved here.

[his eyes wince.]

I-I didn't mean to say that...that life was bad there. It--[well, it kind of was, but--] It was just...different. Harder. For me, I mean. And if I'm not there, it's...easier. For the others.

[he hesitates, worried about how that sounds aloud.]

...But they cared. My family, I mean.

[he hesitates.]

Most of them. I think.

You do not sound particularly certain.

[ Though he never really does. ]

...

[another hesitation.]

I...I think it's more... [he finally picks up the strands of yarn, looping them around again.] More that they...probably shouldn't. The ones who did, I mean. Since I caused nothing but trouble for them anyway...

Some of them knew that.

[ Her arm stays steady, unmoving. ]

Your assertion defies my understanding of "family" as a concept.
Are family members not supposed to care for each other?
In spite of everything.

[he tilts his head with a soft frown.]

...Um, well. Where I'm from...a family is your bloodline. The others like you, all from the same source. It...never meant we all had to like each other or get along well. I mean, we still had to get along to work together for, uh. Like training and things. But...

[his nose scrunches. he's not really explaining right, is he?]

I guess...back home...caring doesn't always mean liking each other... It's different than here.

I have no bloodline.
Perhaps that is why I do not understand.

[ She tilts her head a little again, considering him — or maybe just mimicking him. Practicing the motion because he's doing it too. ]

What you are describing sounds more like a unit.
Or a team.
Much like the ones I have served on for various X-Men missions.
We did not necessarily like each other much either.

[blink.

oh. right. she's...metal. no blood in metal. so it's not the same, is it? which is strange; even animals have bloodlines...]

Umm...I, I guess so. I mean--we all had to work for the same thing. So if it's like your team, then...maybe that can count in a way.

[his eyes wince as he pulls the little ring of yarn off her wrist, knotting it at one end as a reminder of how wide it should remain.]

If everyone was all born to do the same thing, maybe it can still count...

I had a father.
I know what purpose he created me for.
But I suppose that is not the same thing as what you are describing.

[ She observes as he manipulates the yarn. ]

I was alone at first.
There were not others like me.

[he looks up at her, head tilted, frowning.]

So...just you and your father?

Yes.
For a long time.

[ Her consciousness in the dark void. No physical form. Only that growing anger.

It's cool and calm when she goes on: ]

I hated him.

[hated him? but...]

...How come?

Because he didn't love me.

[he breathes out a soft oh, sitting still with that heavy thought. it's not like she said it any different than the rest of her words, but he can add the weight to them himself. if that were him...]

...That's sad... I'm sorry.

Why?
Hatred made me powerful.
Strong enough to free myself of the purpose my father intended me for.
Now I do as I want.

[ She says this in her usual matter-of-fact tone, unemotional. As if she hadn't been lonely and raging all that time — as if her creator's betrayal of her hadn't been her one drive. ]

[it's so hard to keep pace with her more often than not: she defies a lot of his expectations, being so blunt, sincere, and contrary to what he'd expect. it still unnerves him, but he's gradually learning to not fear repercussions. she's never laid a finger on him except to protect him, after all. very contrary to her name...

he presses his lips into a line as he considers this. in a way, it sounds the way...Alex did...when Aric was sent away. free. and as much as he doesn't like him, that was always good, wasn't it?]

Sorry. I...I guess I didn't think of it that way. If it's good, then...then I'll be glad for you.

Sometimes pain forges us into something greater.

[ Maybe more literally for her than most, but. ]

You have known pain too, haven't you?

Um...well, ye-yes. Sometimes. [but not pain like that, he thinks. he never hated anything or anyone so much that it made him better...] I don't know if it was ever good for anything, though. Un-unless it was for a lesson, I mean.

Lessons are sometimes necessary.
For young entities like you and I especially.

[ For all the ways that Charles Xavier failed her, she's had other teachers. Some taught her through hurting her — others in kinder ways, through friendship and camaraderie. ]

Learning lessons makes us stronger too.

[sure, he thinks grimly, or you die. but that's more Olvoski rules than here he hopes.

he looks back down with no reply, finishing the ring he'd made of Danger's wrist and picking at it a little, wondering if this was the right way to go about measuring. it's not like he's even at the sleeve, let alone to the point of ending it.

he sighs, turning it around in his hands and letting it dangle off his fingers.]

...I hope this winds up turning out alright... [it's so many hours of work; he'd feel stupid for it to all have gone to waste.]

[ She watches him as he turns the loop of string around his hands. ]

Even if it does not, I somewhat doubt there will be any dire consequences.
If you wish, you can always try again.

Yes, but-- [he grimaces.] But this has taken so long already...it won't...be done in time. [beat.]

...For...whenever it was Andy wanted it done. I...I actually don't know if she said...

You cannot very well miss an imaginary deadline.

[ She has a way of making everything she says sound very reasonable indeed. Must be the mechanical hum of her voice. ]

Either way, I can tell she cares for you very much.
And I suspect she would be proud of your accomplishment regardless of when your project is completed.
Do you not think so too?

[unfazed logic versus nonstop anxiety: it's like water getting molded by the shape of a glass or trough.

Martin's face gets a bit warm at the remarks, sheepishly scratching at the bridge of his nose.]

I mean...maybe. I guess so. I just--want it to be good. Worth...worthwhile. [he squints at Danger, as if her expression would somehow give more than what it does. which isn't much.]

[ But she admires that. The fact that he wants to complete his task with some skill, some competence. She expects much the same from herself, anytime there's an objective she's responsible for. ]

Then it is appropriate that you should take your time.
I will help you, if you wish.

[his mouth quirks a little, smiling sheepishly. he hides it by ducking his head and getting his needles off the coffee table.]

I can make something as thanks...something for you, I mean. If you want.

[ Her interest is piqued. She demonstrates this to him by the tilt of her head, how she turns her face more fully towards him as he simultaneously turns away to get his needles. It isn't so much the idea of repayment that intrigues her — she is accustomed to doing what is necessary, what is asked of her, and receiving little by the way of gratitude — but the gifts she's been given in her lifetime are few and far between.

It warms her to him. ]

What would you make?

Well, I...I don't know how to make much but... [he holds up the circle of yarn.] I guess I know how wide your arms are now, so I can make armwarmers?

If you want, I mean.

[ As a robot, she has absolutely no use for armwarmers whatsoever. And she is, despite her stoic exterior, finding herself charmed by the idea. ]

I would like that very much, Martin.
Thank you.

[he's a little surprised by the yes, but get a bit of energy from it.]

Al-alright. What...colors do you like?

[ Patiently: ]

Blue.

Oh. [his mouth twitches a little.] I...I should've guessed that. Alright. I'll make something blue for you. I...don't know how long it'll take, but...

There is no hurry.
I know you have a number of projects you are attempting.

[ There's that calm, cool answer again. ]

I will consider it a surprise.

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we are rehabilitated haunted house criminals

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