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maskormenacelogs2019-10-20 08:38 pm
fettchquest) wrote in maskormenacelogs2019-10-20 08:38 pm
Entry tags:
[closed] you know the answer
WHO: Boba Fett and Martin Darkov
WHERE: Outside Maurtia Falls 004
WHEN: Mid-October, a few days after Fett ported in
WHAT: Fett does some reconaissance. Local gremlin interferes.
WARNINGS: None!
[For all that Fett has been checking in on old haunts since his return, it’s a while before he pays a visit to Maurtia Falls 004 again. It isn’t that he’s forgotten the place—his memory of the house is clear, as are those of the people who’d lived there. If he concentrates, he can recall the feeling of icy shock he’d felt sitting in the living room there decades ago, when two clones had revealed that they knew his true identity. No, it was a hard place to forget. Not that it had stopped him, one galaxy away.
He doesn’t think he’d been intentionally avoiding the place either, but it’s hard to tell. More likely, it just hadn’t seemed important. It wasn’t. But when he’d found himself in the area, there’d been no reason not so look around—to see, perhaps, who still remained.
It would be less conspicuous to forgo armor for plain street clothes, but that’s never stopped Fett before. It’s late anyway and there are few people to spot him as he circles the house once, looking for changes to the structure, new additions or renovations that could denote a new presence in the home.
He finds none. As he circles back around to the front of the house, he imagines briefly what might happen if he simply knocked on the front door and explained himself—that he’d been an imPort some time ago and wanted to see who still remained from his first time there. Perhaps a familiar face would answer and the question would resolve itself there.
It’s an unpleasant thought to begin with and that last possibility causes him to dismiss it decisively. Always better to do these things quietly.
All it takes is a bare hand on the latch of the mailbox outside the house. In theory, it should allow him to discern the presence of whoever had recently opened it. In practice, the rush of psychometric data from an object regularly handled by at least three people isn’t so easily deciphered. Or tolerated. Fett yanks his hand back as if burned, glove reappearing over the skin in a fraction of a second, mind ringing as it returns to equilibrium.
He’s probably disoriented enough now that he won’t notice if someone approaches him. Probably.]
WHERE: Outside Maurtia Falls 004
WHEN: Mid-October, a few days after Fett ported in
WHAT: Fett does some reconaissance. Local gremlin interferes.
WARNINGS: None!
[For all that Fett has been checking in on old haunts since his return, it’s a while before he pays a visit to Maurtia Falls 004 again. It isn’t that he’s forgotten the place—his memory of the house is clear, as are those of the people who’d lived there. If he concentrates, he can recall the feeling of icy shock he’d felt sitting in the living room there decades ago, when two clones had revealed that they knew his true identity. No, it was a hard place to forget. Not that it had stopped him, one galaxy away.
He doesn’t think he’d been intentionally avoiding the place either, but it’s hard to tell. More likely, it just hadn’t seemed important. It wasn’t. But when he’d found himself in the area, there’d been no reason not so look around—to see, perhaps, who still remained.
It would be less conspicuous to forgo armor for plain street clothes, but that’s never stopped Fett before. It’s late anyway and there are few people to spot him as he circles the house once, looking for changes to the structure, new additions or renovations that could denote a new presence in the home.
He finds none. As he circles back around to the front of the house, he imagines briefly what might happen if he simply knocked on the front door and explained himself—that he’d been an imPort some time ago and wanted to see who still remained from his first time there. Perhaps a familiar face would answer and the question would resolve itself there.
It’s an unpleasant thought to begin with and that last possibility causes him to dismiss it decisively. Always better to do these things quietly.
All it takes is a bare hand on the latch of the mailbox outside the house. In theory, it should allow him to discern the presence of whoever had recently opened it. In practice, the rush of psychometric data from an object regularly handled by at least three people isn’t so easily deciphered. Or tolerated. Fett yanks his hand back as if burned, glove reappearing over the skin in a fraction of a second, mind ringing as it returns to equilibrium.
He’s probably disoriented enough now that he won’t notice if someone approaches him. Probably.]
no subject
it's why, when he approached from his walk back to see a stranger fiddling with the mailbox, Martin slowed to a stop only a few yards away, his eyes bright and glinting like a cat's from the reflections of the street lights around them. taller than he'd been when "Lucky" had still been around, his hair cropped short...he was as much a testament to the changes that have gone this particular house as anything.
any assurance that it had been Rex there late was dashed, and Martin was left dreading just who this mystery-person was, what they wanted, why this late...
what was he supposed to say, anyway? what would Andy say?
...nothing nice, probably...]
Um.
[certainly not that. ah, well.]
Who are you looking for...?
no subject
Not that any of that shows through the black visor of his helmet. That gaze is as hard and inscrutable as ever as he considers the interloper. Recognition isn’t immediate. The angle is different and as much as Fett may remember, it’s still been more than twenty years on his end. If anything, it’s the awkward tension in the boy’s posture and voice that give him away more than physical appearance.]
Former residents, [Fett answers flatly to the boy he now recognizes as Martin Darkov.] Headcount.
[Several memories vy for relevance—Martin’s powers, the carjacking. The burning house. Fett focuses on the first. He doubts spikes of bone can pierce Manalorian armor, but it would still be better to avoid the kind of attention an actual fight would bring. Not that he remembers Martin being the confrontational type, anyway.]
Does Rex still live here?
no subject
and worse? the only other faceless man he's encountered here at the house was Woden, and that...that didn't go well. he doesn't want another repeat of that...ever.
and while he doesn't want to invite trouble, Martin doesn't know how to avoid it in this situation. he doesn't like to lie, but...should he? would Rex want him to? would Andy?
he probably shouldn't have spoken up at all and just waited until he left. he realizes this in painful hindsight, and own, unmasked expression looks conflicted because of it.]
I...Why do you need a, a headcount? What for? Who are you? Sorry, I just... [you're a stranger, you could be a threat, you have no face...]
no subject
I was an imPort in this area some time ago, [he answers impassively.] I knew the people who lived here.
[A brief pause as he considers whether the next part needs any prelude, perhaps a pre-emptive explanation, before he decides against it. Too much work.]
My name is Boba Fett.
no subject
it takes a moment longer for the most important connection to be made, and when it does, Martin's expression changes, eyebrows raised with surprise.]
...
[he stares at the mask with more confusion than concern now.]
Lucky...?
no subject
Not anymore. [He can read the confusion on Martin’s face and, after a pause, grudgingly offers more detail.] It’s been more than 20 years on my end. I ported back in a few days ago.
[Under his helmet, his eyes slide back towards the house at their side. Much like Martin, it hasn’t changed much. From Earth’s perspective, he’s probably only been gone a year, if that long.]
Is Rex still here?
no subject
he nods.]
Ye-yeah. It's me, him, and Andy here now.
[and Cassandra...if she ever comes back. he keeps that to himself, though.]
They come back later today, if...you want to see them.
no subject
[He doesn’t intend to stick around for a reunion. The clone may not intimidate him like he used to, but Fett still doesn’t see a use to an actual face-to-face meeting. Martin will likely inform Rex of his return. What he does afterwards is up to him.
At any rate, Fett has the information he’d been looking for. He could just leave. But… if Martin is already being cooperative...]
Has anything worth knowing happened since I left?
no subject
still, he has a want to be helpful, even if he knows he's inherently unhelpful, so after a gulp:] A...I guess it...depends on what you wanted to know...I mean. Ca-cassandra's not here anymore. Or Kaidan... I, I don't know who else you know. Um. I mean...they would know better than me for anything.
[he hesitates, frowning.
then:] ...Is your head alright? Why are you in a mask? S-sorry, I just... [he hates masks.]
no subject
It seems there’s little reason to continue the conversation. Fett is preparing to cut things short, when Martin interjects.]
… [Fett’s head tilts slightly to the side as he processes the questions. They’re strange things to ask, even for Martin.]
...It’s a helmet, [he answers after a moment.] Armor. Not a mask.
no subject
I...I guess I mean...no one would know it was you, if...they couldn't see your face...
[it doesn't actually occur to him that that's the point.]
no subject
[It’s stated bluntly, with no hint of irony. If a face is what renders a person distinct and recognizable, then this helmet is as close as Fett has. The features underneath had stopped feeling like his a long time ago.]
It’s not changing anytime soon.
no subject
...how...does he eat now. what if his nose itches. these are concerning questions.
of course, these are questions Martin doesn't dare voice, instead reddening when he realizes he's just...staring at that featureless face.
he looks away, embarrassed.]
Sorry. It's just...different.
no subject
[With that, he straightens. He’s heard enough—said enough, too. He takes another look at the empty house at their side, still unsettling in its familiarity. He doesn’t intend to come this way again.]
I’ll see you around, [he says. There’s no menace to the words. There’s no warmth, either. He just knows that, with the way this place likes to throw people together, that this likely won’t be the last time he sees the boy. Rex, too, he’ll probably meet in time.
But it doesn’t have to be today. Without another word, he turns and departs from Maurtia Falls 004.]