isaachan

[isaachan]

this kindness, this warmth -- it's something he'd so desperately needed all those years before, but what should he do with it now? momentarily, he wonders: if someone had listened to him back then, would he be here? to have a friend by his side -- would that have changed anything?

"you want to help me? and how do you plan on doing that, exactly?"

and there is more venom in his words than he wants there to be, recklessness in his petulance, only because he is desperate for ryoji to see that the people around them are the very same ones doing the most harm.

perhaps if they'd met all those years ago, he might have learned to more forgiving.

"it might be people that make this world better, but it's supers that destroy so much of it. you -- you burn down buildings to catch one villain, and you get away with it, too. because people love a good hero. we have to figure out how to come back from that. not you."

his shoulders drop as he lets out an exhausted breath.

"if you want to help," isaac answers, "start by looking into these so-called heroes, and leave the rest of us alone."

frustration pulls at their brows. isaac's questions are not new, but the ache for understanding --- for not having to justify their choices once again, after so many painful years --- always tugs at their heart with such ferocity.

"because i want to help. and for you, specifically, i care about helping someone i think of as --- " lips pressing together, he stops. 'friend' seems to heavy for their brief interactions through the years. but the two of them have been friendly. amicable. existing in the odd space between acquaintance and friend.

all at once, their mask is more a chain swinging than a method of protection. but its a familiar greeting, one they've weathered since they made a choice that would define the last eleven years of their life.

there are so many spaces within him that shame takes root. but it won't with this work. not anymore.

"it's people, not just supers, that determine how to make this world a better place. of trying to save those from the systems that take. the focus has to be on the community and how to rebuild it. that's what i move toward. and if i can contribute to that in what small ways i can ---- if it can be enough --- then yes, i will cherish that victory."

so much more sparks on his tongue. but he swallows the rest, and his throat aches from the burn. a breath, then another. by the time he speaks, his tone is carefully neutral.

"any more questions?"

#I'M SORRY ISAAC IS BEING MEAN RYOJI #ryoji.

[isaachan]

location: outside of someone’s apartment building. closed to @synkronic​ — gregory ! 

“so,”

it’s a rather reckless plan, even by their standards. hacking into the kronos database to get personal information about higher-ranking kronos employees is one thing, but trying to actually find out who in kronos is responsible for this by breaking into their apartments is something completely different. 

but if he has to do this with anyone, greg would always be his first choice — because he supposes if he had to be stuck in jail with someone, he’d probably want to be with the other man. for his company and expertise. 

“i’m pretty sure this is the guy. not a hundred per cent, but all the signs point to him. missing files, lots of sick days. big paychecks but no notable projects in the last month or so. but . . . not much in his office, so it’ll have to be his place. last chance to back out.” 

#sorry this is so late! #greg.

[isaachan]

“what the hell — how?” he doesn’t actually care how she’s got it, really, but the fact that they’ve got it. andy, odessa says, and isaac is once again impressed by the extent of her connections and yes, he supposes, being nice to people sometimes has its advantages. it's slightly disappointing that they didn't actually get the footage of exploding heads — rest in peace and all that — because that means it wouldn't exactly be enough to expose the people behind the serum. still, it's a start.

“so...if samael doesn’t turn up with their head blown to bits soon, you think this means," isaac doesn't mean to smile, but there's definitely a smile playing at his lips. “they’ve found a way to stabilize it?” 

with : @isaachan location : bar velo date : night, march 2040

“i got the footage,” she begins, half of her attention focused on picking a drink among the options presented on the holographic screen. the other is dedicated to elaborating on her discovery, her explanation delivered in a quick, lilting cadence. “unfortunately, it’s not of the explosion itself, more of what happened right after ‘cause that’s when andy remembered to start recording, but i guess that’s better than nothing? i don’t even know what we’re looking for, but maybe something will pop up.” 

deciding on one of velo’s house cocktails, she nudges the device towards isaac before leaning forward. “that aside, you’ve seen the news, right?” as useful as the video clip could be, it isn’t her main concern, and she doubts he’ll disagree. “no fucking way all these new supers have just been in hiding until now. i’m pretty sure at least one of those villains didn’t even have powers before. that sam guy definitely didn’t.”  

#unhinged isaac coming soon #odessa.

[isaachan]

he knows, deep inside, that this is fear. over a decade later, he still can't control the way his body reacts to supers — the way his blood goes cold, his heart in his ears, mind running a million miles per hour. he also knows it's not fair to them, because they've always only been patient, but only a few weeks ago, suzume had also chosen to protect baz and all he can think about is how they're all the same.

but when the words finally register through the panic, isaac finds himself looking up to meet their gaze. family.

momentarily, he imagines a younger ryoji with their family; he doesn't know much, but there's something in their voice that isaac recognizes. doesn't know if it's warmth or regret or something else altogether.

his breathing evens as his head catches up and understands ryoji's not here to hurt. still, his brows knit in simultaneous annoyance and confusion at the question.

"what's it to you?"

and strangely enough, he finds that he truly wants to know the answer to his question.

"is this some — some moral thing to make yourself feel better? you think supers are making this world a better place, that sort of thing? you'll feel better about yourself if you save me?"

they stop in their tracks, brows knitting in confusion. they weren't expecting isaac to step back against the wall. at best, lift his chin at ryoji, but not ---- and now isaac is pressing his hands against his eyes in composure, or assurance, or ---

ryoji swallows.

"you're right. not everyone with a mask is a villain." they take a slow breath, weighing each word. something fragile is about to slip through their hands, and they don't wish it to.

"i'm no stranger to the type of desperation that leads someone down a path of violence. where i ran scenarios through my head of what was the best choice for me and my family, and what cost i was willing to pay. what cost i would force on another as a consequence."

a flash of his father withering away. running his tongue over his teeth, he takes a deep breath. "it's why i'm not going to send that person to jail. they'll be left there, yes, because i don't know if they're part of a group that's looking for them. it's part of my risk-analysis, which also includes how my priority right now is you. but i'm not sending an alert for the police to pick them up --- and that's my usual call."

they swallow again. uncertain if they chose the right words. but despite that, and perhaps against better judgement, they ask, "what's going on, isaac?"

#i would just like to say ryoji doesnt deserve isaac's sass :'c #ryoji.

[isaachan]

location: bar velo closed to @amarcnthined — suzu !

it shouldn’t feel awkward, meeting her like this again. it was never meant to be anything more than a business partnership between the two of them, but there’s still a small sense of discomfort sitting in his chest somewhere knowing that their last conversation had gone — strangely, to say the least. he feels uncomfortable enough to be the one buying the drinks tonight; plus, he’s the one who’s come to her for help this time.

“i hear you and your friends are busy these days.” crux — ever vigilant, ever so secretive. but it's easy to deduce what they're after, mostly because it's the same thing he's interested in, too.

"oh, i," he adds, his line of thought a sudden reminder that he's brought something for suzu; it makes his face feel hot, a little.

he slides the bag of meds he may or may not have taken from the kronos repository across the table. " — i need a favor," isaac adds quickly, as though making sure their conversation doesn't devolve into the two of them thanking each other. "i need to get my hands on the fake serum."

#tsundere styles #suzu.

[isaachan]

isaac has to admit it is a breath of fresh air to not have to talk to someone at kronos about the serum leak — he’s concerned, of course, but there’s also only so much he can say about it before it becomes stale and frustrating. which is why he’s thankful that zayid is back, because as always, his friend knows exactly what to say to make him laugh. 

“actually, i think you should absolutely tell odessa that.” he teases, though his laughter quickly turns into an audible groan at the mention of new management. 

“jesus christ, tell me about it. asshole’s been here for like thirty minutes and thinks he knows everything.” a dramatic sigh later, isaac lifts an eyebrow. “what’s your beef with him?” 

for: @isaachan. date: march, 2040. location: zayid’s office, kronos hq.

"look who it is—my favorite coworker! don't tell odessa i said that." despite the teasing words, his tone is genuine while he beams at isaac. the other is always a welcome sight, especially after the isolated three weeks zayid spent attached to his couch and recovering from the flu. leaning against isaac's desk, he dips his head lower to give the impression he'd like to avoid being overheard (in an empty office) with a wry grin. "you got some time to spare? i need someone to complain to about our new boss."

#zayid.

[isaachan]

“that would be helpful, jackson. i only have a very small idea of how your powers actually work.” isaac says ― not malicious, and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips as he speaks. on one hand, he understands, this caution around him. understands that he’d hurt them, that they might never exactly get that back. but it still stings, the fact that they’ll probably never get to sit around and laugh like they used to ever again. 

not really. 

he pauses his movements and leans back into his chair, tilting his head up to look at jax. “...yeah. kind of. i was out on the balcony and people started screaming and running. blood on the floor, the walls - sort of thing. i just got out of there as quickly as i could.” 

his jaw tightens for a moment before he continues. 

“i heard you were...helping. that you helped. but you know, you should ― you should talk to someone. if you’re not,” eyes fall back to his own hands as he sighs, “okay.” 

Their first instinct is to splutter out a denial, that if anything this is a remarkable improvement, a step forward, because they can do something that they had never been able to before. But such words would ring hollow in his ears―or insulting, even, they think, quietly eyeing the scowl etching itself on his forehead. He’d always had a penchant for that sort of thing. Persistance, concentration. Or maybe it’s that Jax is the one who yields too quickly, compliant to complacency. Lacking in volition, a knee-jerk surrender―

“Two weeks,” they parrot, interrupting the deluge of their own clawing thoughts, mulling over the fact that the two of them will be meeting semi-regularly until the machinery is finished. To Isaac’s satisfaction, that is. “Okay. Let me know if― if you need anything in the meantime.” Why the fuck would he need anything from them? Nevertheless, they continue: “Like more information, or stuff I’ve tried on my own…. or something.”

Their gaze travels from the coffee mug in his grasp to their own, lukewarm, now held between their hands that have resurfaced from below the table. “Not really,” Jax confesses, forthright with their misery, shoulders hunched. “Were you there when it happened?”

#jax.

[isaachan]

isaac simply presses his lips together and nods in response. he wishes there would've been more information there, but a part of him is almost relieved that they were spared the details - it might have given him more pause, if the subjects had felt like actual human beings instead of numbers on paper.

"didn't say. i have a feeling they didn't want anyone to know how many. or what happened to the ones experimented on. which means this was very, very private knowledge, even within kronos."

he hesitates before his next move, mostly because he isn't actually sure what kiran gets out of this. but he's got access to the more important people at the nsa, people he has no way to get close to. so he presses a button on his arm and takes out a small chip.

"you can have the file, if you want. and anything i find out after this. but this means i need access to your files, too. nsa files."

kiran quickly opens a tab under a pseudonym, placing the two drinks twenty minutes apart. "done and done," he says as he sends the hover-tray directions.

it takes another beat for him to register the what isaac mentions. he closes his eyes, muffling a sigh. "i take that means it's along the disturbing, invasive type of human experimentation?"

kiran crosses his arms. the smb weaves respond to his touch, a small, near imperceptible sound. but to him, it echoes in his ears, a thrumming of choices he's made. what he decided, full autonomy, to do to himself.

"how many people were experimented on?"

#this is very late!! so we can drop it & start a new one or end it soon if u want! #kiran.

[isaachan]

he doesn’t know what’s worse — those who don’t believe him at all, or those who do and choose not to act. he never expected suzume to be on his side, at least not in the way he would want her to be. but he would be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt at all, feeling like he’s hit a wall once more. the worst part of it is that he’s not angry about it. he should be, and he would be, except a part of him, strangely enough, understands. it’s not blind loyalty to other supers or discomfort that stops her, he knows. 

and she is polite to the very end, so he simply nods back, following suit and finishing the rest of his drink. the copy of the file he’d made days ago sits in his pocket, untouched; if she wanted it that badly, they both know she could use her powers to get it. so he knows, too, that it’s a sign of respect that she doesn’t. it doesn’t have to be the end of them, perhaps, but in his disappointment, he doesn’t quite know if she’ll ever have anything else he needs this badly.

with a soft sigh, he grabs his jacket from the side. 

“you know, i had someone like that too, once. someone i would’ve given anything for. so i get wanting to — fuck, i don’t know. wanting to protect someone you care about.” 

one arm in, then the other. he meets her eyes again. 

“but i also had the comfort of knowing that they were a good person. i won’t tell you what to do; i don’t have the right to do that.” he repeats her words, “but i just hope he doesn’t end up disappointing you. because i wish i could sit here and tell you that he’s a changed man but he’s— ”

 you don’t have a home to go back to, do you? 

“ — actually, i’ll let you figure it out yourself.” 

he pushes himself up and steps away, leaving two crumpled bills behind on the table. 

if i give up now, i don’t have anything else to live for. people like that are relentless. dangerous. desperate. but who is she to tell him what to do, when what she’s been living for traps her in an endless cycle? there will always be scum to weed out, corruption to cut down. if she gives up, then what does she have left? “i should tell you to let it go,” she starts, running a hand through her hair, “but i don’t think i even have the right to.” 

then he switches back to business, claiming the blood won’t be on her hands. she almost wants to laugh; just because she’s not the one doing the dirty work doesn’t mean she won’t be blameless. she may not be stopping him, but she won’t help him, either. 

in the end, it was always going to come to this: personal loyalties over objectivity. she’d known it the moment isaac slipped baz’s name. 

“i can’t give that to you right now.” she doesn’t elaborate why; he’s free to fill in the blanks as he chooses. she doesn’t quite say i’m sorry, either—they both know there was always a chance of them walking away empty-handed—but something apologetic is laced in her tone all the same. sorry i can’t give you what you want. sorry you’ve been driven to this point. sorry it has to be like this. 

“i don’t think you’ll accept any other trade, so i won’t ask you for it.” she’ll get the information she needs somehow—it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t have a back-up plan. but if this was his breaking point, then where do they go from here? she’d hate to lose him as a contact; he’s proven to be reliable and trustworthy, he’s good at what he does, and they usually share the same goals. finding all of the above in someone is rare. they’ve worked well together—could continue working well together—but an invisible line has been drawn. she downs the last of her drink, the ice cubes melted. “but if you need anything else, well, let me know.”

#weeee finally wrapped it up #suzu.

[isaachan]

his initial annoyance begins to turn into something more akin to anger. of course — of course they think this is the right way to do things. they're all the same to him, the whole lot of them; it doesn't matter what silly names or labels they put on themselves because in the end, they are all like this.

( somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tells him that this isn't exactly fair, that ryoji has been nothing but kind to him, even now. but he doesn't want to listen to voices inside his head. not now. )

"he wasn't going to hurt me," isaac retorts, even as he tries to take a step back away from ryoji and hits the wall behind him instead. "for fuck's sake — what happens to him now? you send him to jail?"

he presses his hands against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, before letting them drop again. his voice is quieter when it leaves him.

"do you ever think about why people do the things they do? not everyone with a gun and a mask is a villain."

acting quickly was a necessity for their powers. ryoji needed to incapacitate quickly and efficiently if they didn't wish to be caught in a losing fight. and a fight against any weaponry is one he always avoids if he can.

"apologies. i tend to immediately act when i see a gun." their tone's neutral. it's a basic truth rather than an expression of annoyance or passive-aggression. they have learned never to expect gratitude; they aren't part of crux for it, and nobody owes a hero gratitude.

still, there's something in isaac's voice that ryoji can't help but focus on. they should store it for later, to pick apart when the morning rays peek through the blinds. and yet, it burrows under their skin now. the two of them need to move, but ryoji only moves closer to the other man.

"what would you have done, isaac?" not an accusation, but a spark of curiosity. "if being rendered unconscious by the feeling of pain is overkill?"

#ryoji. #moral questioning in an alleyway 2040

[isaachan]

because you're my friend.

it makes isaac look away, how easily those words come to odessa. if he'd met her when they were younger, before everything, he thinks there might have been a chance for him to deal with a world in a better way. he might have even learned to see things like she does now, finding beauty in the small things, believing that the world is still a good place, being able to trust people this easily. he spites and admires her for it; he's grateful and relieved, even, knowing that she was the one around jules while he was gone. it's complicated and none of it is her fault, so he nods in the end.

"yeah. i hope you're not wrong, too."

he releases the breath he didn't know he was holding as the conversation takes a turn to focus on the case at hand once again. government? he's no doubt that the government's involved, and he wonders —

"if the government's involved, is that something you could find out?" and this time, his words aren't as pointed — he's genuinely curious. he doesn't know what he'll do with the information, exactly, but if theyr'e able to get something on their hands, it'll be ammunition, for now or for the future. and maybe, just maybe, they'll listen to odessa if not him. "it's too big for the government to be not involved. if they've covered for the nsa before, they sure as hell going to cover for kronos with how much money we make them."

she seems enthusiastic about it, to say the least, and it does amuse isaac in a way. her question still gives him pause, though, and he idly cracks his knuckles in thought.

"let's hope so, because i don't exactly have a lot of time to waste trying a bunch of different serums. but if it doesn't work out," he leans back into the chair and looks up at the suspiciously clean ceiling. "then i'll just find a way to finish it all myself."

again, he doesn't quite feel the need to clarify, so he tilts his head back down in sudden thought.

"say, you think anyone has a footage of the," he makes a quick exploding motion with his two hands, "you-know-what? any way we might be able to search one out?"

odessa offers a tight-lipped smile in response. if she was, she’d already be angling on how to release this file to the public, but for all her optimism, the passage of time has tempered her idealism—the disappearances of some former mercury teammates four years ago made sure of that. plunged into the deep end by a certain discovery, they were snuffed out before they even had the chance to light a spark. 

so she’s scared. can you blame her? when you’re twenty-one, you think you’re invincible. she’s learned that she isn’t.

“‘cause my horoscope said so,” she rejoins, appearing offended he’d think she’d rat him out. leaning back in her chair, she tilts her head to look at him. “because you’re my friend, and i don’t do that shit to my friends. you can trust me on that.” whether or not he believes her is up to him, but she hopes he does. “but you’re right—i don’t know. i can’t speak for you. but something tells me you won’t. call it a gut feeling.” realistically, they are at an impasse—if he chooses to bring her down, she can take him down with her, and maybe he won’t want to risk that. 

cut out logic, and it’s simply her desire to continue seeing the best in people. to trust. she can only guess at what isaac's been through to make him so skeptical, and she can’t fault him for it. they all have their own ways of surviving; maybe she even ought to take a page out of his book. some caution might do her good. 

but if she second-guessed everyone she ever met, she would be extraordinarily lonely, and there is nothing more she hates than being alone. “i just hope i’m not wrong.”

she pushes the chair back on its wheels, spinning to face him. “basically, yeah. i mean, the fact that our colleagues who are even allowed access still can’t see everything says something, right? do you think the government's involved, too? or just private companies?”

a small thrill runs through her as she runs through the possibilities. it’s like she’s in college again, bypassing firewalls and uncovering conglomerate secrets, wondering just how far she can take it. “i think i could go the rest of my life without seeing anymore heads explode.” odessa laughs with him, though she can’t quite keep the bemusement off her face. “would you actually? what if you got, like, some shit power? or do you think they’ll end up color-coding it or something?”

#odessa.

[isaachan]

"just the one co-worker, actually," isaac retorts, scanning the other man's face before confirming yes, i still don't like him. "we'll have to see if they want to keep someone who's only been here for a second or someone that's actually been doing work, then."

he does have a point, though, in that he probably could get him fired if he really put his mind to it, isaac rolls his eyes anyway, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out his tablet and opening up one of his latest project files.

"speaking of," he sighs, holding it out for val. "apparently they need you to sign off on this first before i can get the parts. so if you could, please and thank you."

“      four   minutes   you   could've   used   to   work   instead   of      ...      flirting   with   your   co-workers,      ”      tongue   clicks   at   the   roof   of   his   mouth,      hues   rolling   with   his   words.      he's   never   tried   to   hide   his   distaste   of   the   other      :      ever   since   the   first   time   they   met,      it   only   took   val   said   four   minutes   to   discern   if   they   would   be   working   shoulder-to-shoulder   or   butting   heads.      so   far,      his   instincts   had   never   led   him   astray.      “      in   theory,      yes.      but   who   will   be   first   out   the   door,      i   wonder      —      ”      he   muses,      tight-lipped   smile   holding   anything   but   grace.      head   tilting   as   a   brow   raises   in   question.      “      the   new   department   lead   or      ...      the   one   person   out   of   many   in   the   team   whose   been   racking   up   late   attendances   instead   of   clocking   in   on   time   like   the   other   five      ?      ”

#val.

[isaachan]

it would, in theory, be very easy to wake up five minutes early or to simply not stop by the cafe in the morning. but that would also mean he’s heeding his new boss’ rather irritating demands, and that, he refuses to do. no one had ever given him this much grief for being on time before, especially given that he’s always willing to work overtime when there’s an important project at hand, but apparently, that matters little now. 

“four minutes,” isaac presses his lips into a thin smile, placing the two cups of coffee in his hands onto his desk. ( and just why did his desk have to be so close to val’s office? )

“and i guess if we’re all being very technical, anyone under buchanan is replaceable. right?”

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 ... @isaachan

everything   had   its   place   in   the   great   microcasm      ...      yet,      there   always   seem   to   be   a   fair   few   who   refuse   to   fit   into   the   mold   that's   been   set   for   the   greater   good.      chaos   and   order   can   never   see   eye-to-eye,      especially   not   when   the   human   equivalent   seem   to   be   particularly   adamant   on   making   val's   time   anything   but   an   easy   one.      “      you're   late.      again,      ”      the   minute   hand   barely   passed   the   five   minute   mark,      but   he's   counted   every   single   second   and   passing   moment   that   was   spared   without   any   sense   of   respect   for   time   and   place.      it's   always   those   who   think   they're   more   deserving   of   that   they   have.      the   thought   almost   makes   him   laugh      —      what   a   joke.      “      i   hope   you   know   that   your   place   here   isn't   as   permanent   as   you   think   it   is.      everyone   under   me   is   replaceable,      ”   

#isaac is abt to get fired #val.

[isaachan]

this isn't exactly a rare occurrence, running into more unsavory characters around here. it's dangerous, but he can fend for himself: there's a reason he's spent countless hours and a good chunk of his salary upgrading his arm.

still, he's caught off guard when someone presses something against the back of his head, demanding that he empty his pockets. "listen — " he begins, but before he can even tell the other that he frankly has nothing on him, the feeling of cool metal disappears with a loud crash! behind him.

alarmed, isaac turns, and it's over so quickly that he doesn't even know how to react. and while he should be grateful, he finds that he is annoyed first, particularly at the sight of the mask.

"i didn't — i didn't need your help," he says, mechanical arm whirring gently in protest. "and this is a bit of an overkill, don't you think," he mutters under his breath, his eyes on his attacker (though at this point, which one of them is the attacker, really?) on the ground.

at an alleyway near hotel corvus with anyone!

their hand slams into the face of the attacker. for a split second, they lift their suppression on themself; the rush of pain shoots through their bones and muscle, reminders of what was shattered and strained.

ryoji could collapse from the sheer devastation of the feeling. instead, they dig their nails into open skin. they choose the pain of a head being bashed into a wall, over and over.

the attacker falls back. listless, unconscious.

ryoji stands straight, breaths slowly leveling as their suppression returns. the oni mask's fangs glint neon red as they catch light from a nearby billboard. it's the sight that the person behind them faces as they turn and narrow their eyes.

"are you injured?" the question is scrambled and robotic through the voice modulation, but concern still bleeds through. "we'll need to take our leave sooner than later."

#ryoji.

[isaachan]

moments like these, he almost wants to believe that there are truly good people left in the world. suzu would be one of them, he thinks, and perhaps in another universe, they could have found a way to bring peace to this world together. he’s allowed himself to imagine it before, working with crux — but he’s also seen too much of what they do to know that they’d never let him go after a paragon hero. 

her question makes him laugh, a little. if he knew what he was going to do, he wouldn’t be here, begging her for scraps. if he knew what he was going to do, he would have done in years ago, instead of letting this hatred become a part of him. he would have done it before it was too late to turn back. 

“whatever it takes.” he says simply. the question that follows gives him pause, but only because he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way to make her really understand. and of course he’s thought about it a thousand times, if not more. he’s dreamt of it, even — his hands wrapped around baz’s neck, watching him like he’d watched all of them during the fire. he’s imagined it enough to know that it will be unceremonious and harrowing and that it will break him, too. but he’s also decided a long time ago that he doesn’t care about what happens to him afterwards. 

“i’ve lost every good thing in my life trying to get here. my friends, my partner, whatever future i had.” his thumb presses against the now-lukewarm beer bottle, “if i give up now, i don’t have anything else to live for.” 

after that, he finishes his drink, wondering how they’d come from talking about the ball to here. he refocuses — this is not about him, this should’ve never been about him. 

“so it’s up to you, but my offer’s still the same. i’ll give you what i have if you tell me what you know about him. i’m not asking for anything more. i’m not asking for your help outside of this and i’m certainly not asking you to agree with me. if it happens — when it happens, the blood’s on my hands, not yours.” 

she realizes the slip belatedly, her connection to baz revealed through heightened emotions. so much for neutrality. leaning back with an exhale, she schools her features into something more impassive. “you’ve never lied to me before. i don’t think you’re about to start now.” not when you have so much to lose. this goes unsaid—they’re both keenly aware of the risks. she wonders what was the cost he’d weighed in the moments before giving her the truth, and what it will cost her in the end.

she knows, too, what it’s like to go unheard. it’s a commonality found in people like them: those who have slipped through the cracks of society. who are left out in the cold, to fend for themselves. underestimated and doubted, they find their own ways of pursuing justice—she supposes this is what’s led him up to this moment.

“it’s something to look into, in any case. i trust you more than the nsa.” it is strange, then, that the crux members before her did not look into the organization, that there were no notes on possible government involvement—

he needs to pay for what he’s done. 

isaac’s words bring her thoughts to a halt. head over heart. heart over head. which will it be? it’d be easier if she didn’t care. if she could cut out attachment and crush it in the palm of her hand. because she can’t say she disagrees; the crime fits the bill, and if she did not know baz as she does, she would be second in line to help him pay it. 

but the truth is more complicated, as it always is.  we have no way to defend ourselves. not like you do. and yet i could never really kill him. 

“and do you know what you’re going to do?” suzu’s asking before she realizes it, and even as the question leaves her lips, she’s not sure if she wants to know the answer. “and if he does pay, will you be satisfied with that?”

she does not mean to taunt. rather, she speaks out of concern. it might’ve begun with baz, but it does not end with him; he is not the first hero the nsa has covered up for, and he won’t be the last. revenge is a slippery slope, often leaving a gnawing emptiness that screams to be filled. she would know. do you?

#suzu.

[isaachan]

while he's not the biggest fan of what kiran does, isaac can't exactly blame the man for doing their job. money to be made, groceries to be bought, and whatever other reason he has for babysitting people who have to be trained to use their powers. compared to some others at the nsa, kiran is relatively harmless.

"i'll take a gin and tonic. and another one in twenty minutes since you're offering." he says, choosing not to linger on kiran's previous comment for too long.

"eh. you don't wanna hear about how i risked my life. it'd bore you. what i risked it for, though," isaac continues, "might make you a little uncomfortable. how do you feel about human experiments?"

despite himself, kiran winces. "not an incorrect guess." he's thankful that isaac's joking; at least, it appears that way. he sends back a small smile. hope flickers with nervous energy displayed by drumming fingers.

this is about continually building trust. and kiran has to remind himself despite their disagreements on heroes, the two are looking toward the same goal. something must be better than the current state of affairs.

so kiran chuckles, tapping his watch to connect to the bar. "fair, fair. what are you looking at? and will it cost another drink to hear how you risked your life?"

#kiran.

[isaachan]

"only if you're ready to face what happens to people who lead revolutions." he's tried before, more than once. and failed rather spectacularly — he knows he's lucky to be alive, after all the 'silly shit' he's pulled in the past (harry's words, not his). odessa's continued optimism is honestly inspiring, in a way, and a part of him wishes he could make sure she'll never lose it. but he doesn't have the capacity or the will to tell her to turn around before she gets in too deep. he needs her, as much as it pains him to admit it.

still, he's surprised when he sees two chips instead of one, even as he accepts his with a mumbled thanks, especially because they never exactly discussed what would happen from this point and on. sure, they'd needed each other to hack into the database, but there was never agreement about sharing information or if they'd keep working together. then, he supposes, it's hard to make that decision when neither of them fully understand why the other's doing this.

keep helping you, she says. his brows knit together.

". . .how do i know that you won't rat me out to buchanan? and how do you know that i won't?" isaac asks, watching the files disappear and turning his head back towards his companion. "i haven't exactly given you any reason to trust me this much."

then — a reminder. he's almost forgotten why he's had such a hard time warming up to odessa, and it's exactly because of the people she speaks of. people that, supposedly, she comes from. people who silenced him, and many others like him. "so what you're saying is there's no real way to get that information," he runs names through his mind, but none quite sticks as someone they could go after. "unless we find the people that's covering this up."

a small sigh leaves him and he swivels his chair back around to take the chip between his fingers and place it in a small slot in his arm. "dunno, i'm kind of torn. part of me wants to some heads explode. other part of me wants to see them finish it so i can use it." a beat later, he laughs, though he doesn't quite clarify that he's joking.

his agitation is palpable, and odessa breathes out a soft, mirthless laugh. “i don’t know. i just wanted the truth. i just wanted to know more. nothing revolutionary.” she glances back at him, tone wry. “think i should start one?” but that’s just it, isn’t it? she didn’t plan ahead; she had no grand idea of being a whistleblower; she’s in over her head. her search for the truth has only led to more questions, lines of redacted information staring back at her and hypotheses rattling around in her head. 

“yeah, i really don’t fucking know.” she ends the sentence on a jagged edge, inserting two small chips into isaac’s device. she’s not so naive to think everything here is pristine—she’d joined kronos for the resources, for the chance that the good she works on might outweigh the bad. but the severity of what she’s just learned is blindsiding, throwing her into the deep end when all she’s ever done is skim the surface. 

clicking a few times, she begins copying encrypted versions of the files, gaze flitting from the screen back to him. “keep helping you, if you want. i don’t think i could figure this shit out alone, anyway.” 

transfer complete, she unplugs it all and erases all traces of their activity, sliding the device and one chip over to isaac before inserting the other into the gold bracelet around her wrist. the screen now displays renders of a new drone project, and should anyone walk in, they’d simply see two a.i. team members hard at work. “to fill in the blanks? the biotech team, probably. they’re the brains behind it.” that’s not the answer he wants, and you know it. 

she taps the stylus erratically on the desk, eyes shifting from isaac to the screen. “in politics, there are people behind the scenes.” she keeps her voice level and detached, though if he paid attention to the gossip circulating their first two months here, he’ll know she has familial ties to exactly that kind of sphere she speaks of. “anything you want covered up, gotten out of the way, whatever, they’ll solve it. they probably—no, definitely—help cover up supers’ fuck-ups, too. but it’s not just that, you get me? it’s also stuff like this. i wouldn’t say they’re the key, but i think people like that are part of why we don't know everything.”

she looks at him again. “what are you trying to do with this, anyway?” she’s not sure if he’ll answer, but it’s worth a shot.

#give a novel get a novel #+ odessa.