maskormenacelogs | Everybody wants to rule the world

Mitchell Hundred was not a man that favored physical affection, unless he initiated it. Physical affection, the friendly arm around the shoulder, reaching out to hold someone's shoulder to bring the sense of physical comfort. It was a tactic he well-knew, something that seemed to help. So being caught unaware, only hearing his name faintly among songs that didn't recognize him, and yet knew him just as most machines did, and knew to call him a name among many, it was surreal. Among the '100's, 'engineer's, and 'builder's came his own name, his real name, and he turned to get an arm around his own, and a wave of body odor.

Not that he was a spring chicken, he knew, but they'd spent days in what could really only be called hell. Days of that shit, and he'd come out the other side to someplace new. Someplace different than the City, and yet similar enough that they would adapt. If they needed to.

They weren't going back. That was for sure.

"Brad--" was all he got out, his attempts to squirm and push away at his friend's attempt for affection forcing him to take drastic action. "What, do you think mauling me is going to make sure I'm really alive?"

"Sorry, boss. Just glad to see you in one piece."

Bradbury broke off smoothly enough, once common sense kicked in, knowing he wasn't exactly a sight for sore eyes but unable to help the impulsive grin that spread on his face before his expression sobered.

"Was pretty touch and go back there. Wasn't sure if I'd lost ya." He jerked his chin up, indicating their surroundings. The faster they moved from that sentimental and depressing train of thought, the better.

"You gotten a look around yet?"

Mitchell didn't really let it phase him, not in the way that Bradbury would be able to tell. He wasn't able to give even that slight shred of dignity up, not for anyone. He just turned his head, and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the world that wasn't his City, or New York, or DC, or any number of places that he should be. All the places he'd called home, but none of them were really right. None of them were like being back in New York City the first time.

At least he was adaptable, which was what he needed to be, in a situation like this. He needed to adapt to every new situation, and if he couldn't, he wouldn't be doing his job right.

"Not much of one, but really, pal. I'm a survivor, you should've known that shit wouldn't be enough to do me in."

After all, he'd survived losing half his face, this was child's play.

"I'm your bodyguard, boss. Worrying about your personal safety is kind of what I'm supposed to do." Though the smile noticeably faded, at that.

Bradbury'd been Mitch's bodyguard back in the City, that much was true, but the other man wasn't the Mayor here, was he? Actually, Bradbury had no idea what they were supposed to be, now. The explanation hadn't exactly been the most enlightening, and though he could have asked more questions, he wasn't sure what he would have.

"Anyway, what do you plan on doing now?" He hooked his thumbs into his pockets, cocking his hips while he tipped his head and squinted at Mitch. "Doesn't seem like we're going anywhere anytime soon. Hell, even our comms look different."

He doesn't know what to think about that. Going back to the City had always been rather contingent on the City still being there to get back to when Lachesis was ready to Port them back, but from the looks of it when they'd left... well, he wasn't holding his breath.

"Now?" he asked, looking around. His eyes wandered just as much as his hearing did, listening and looking throughout the entirety of the roadway he was standing on. Contemplating. Without the City, without New York, or DC, or even the one thing ever-present at the back of his mind, the promise of something larger encroaching on his own universe -- he wasn't sure what to do.

He'd read his assignment, of course, he knew what he was supposed to do, but how to do that was still in the air. Still something he really didn't know, until he';d put all the pieces together and actually adapted. It would take more than just an hour or two to figure this place out.

At least. Sensory overload was a hell of a thing.

"Figure it out, adapt, I suppose. Figure out what the hell we're going to do here," he admitted.

Mitchell wasn't happy, unless he had something driving him, however.

"We don't really have a choice," Bradbury conceded, rather wryly. Adapting would take more time and information than they had right now. For once, he and Mitch were starting on more or less even ground... though he wasn't sure that was something to be grateful for. At least one of them should have a better idea of what was going on.

"It's weird, isn't it?" He murmured, glancing over to watch the pedestrians passing, shaking his head. "It's all... normal here." He still had the vivid memories of a world collapsing in his head.

"Wonder what happened to Lachesis."

"I don't know if I'd say it's normal," he mentioned, his voice touching on wry. Or at least to him, it wasn't normal. Mitch could feel the differences in the way that he always felt differences. He listened, and could sense it, but he didn't voice it. The way he occasionally clenched his jaw or closed his eyes said enough.

Someone like Bradbury? He could probably tell, but then again, Bradbury knew Mitch better than most.

"Anyway, I don't think the old bitch is gone, but I don't know where she'd be, either. She's probably around, waiting to fuck with us again."

He was looking Mitch over, more closely than normal even, the slight furrow between his brows a familiar sign of worry that usually preceded him about to say something that Mitch wasn't going to want to hear.

"How's your head?" He hadn't had a chance to test his own powers, for the obvious reasons, even if the file he'd been handed mentioned those powers in detail. And wasn't that distressing.

"Are you still, you know..." He twirled a finger by one ear, nodding out towards the city. "...plugged in?"

Mitch almost narrowed his eyes at his bodyguard. Almost, but he could understand the question. After all, wasn't he the best damn indicator for whether powers still worked? God, he wished they didn't. It would be nice, for once, to come some place, and not hear everything in that same, familiar, intimate way he always did.

"Yes, Bradbury. My powers are still working," he groaned, holding his hand up to the bridge of his nose, to pinch there. He hated talking about them, even as he complied, understanding why.

He just hated addressing it.

Bradbury exhaled, not sure what answer he'd been hoping for, really. It wasn't exactly disappointing to hear -- at least Mitchell Hundred talking to machines was still a constant in this world, even if nothing else was. At the same time...

"They knew about it coming in, didn't they?" He said, crossing his arms. His own powers had been on his file, and so he assumed Mitch's had to be as well. "Kind of creepy. How much do you think they know?"

Mitchell had a feeling it was more than they let on. He didn't doubt it in the slightest. "Did you see your file?" he asked, his voice a little soft. He'd read his, skimmed it. There was a lot there, a bit too comprehensive, without delving too deeply into -- well.

There were things left unsaid, but he didn't trust that this was all they knew. Call him paranoid, but if he were in their position, he'd not share every scrap of information. If just to make sure that the implication hung in the air.

"I certainly think they know more than they're letting on."

Everybody wants to rule the world

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