[Nexus] The Black Dragon's Den XIV

[Arkhosia]

It is still war.Marina affirms, before the hand rests on her shoulder. Ah, but I am not being very good company. I am Marina, and I have lived in this... purgatory for 2 years now. Whether she missed the point of the gesture or chose to ignore it she isn't sharing her concerns with Cantata.

Cantata... is that Italian? She considers it for a second. Ah, but probably not. So few people come from the same place here.

Cantata frowns momentarily, a little disappointed that Marina didn’t take the opportunity to express her troubles. Well, it was always possible the gesture was misread, but she chose to err on the assumption of least invasiveness.

The elegant woman shakes her head, scrawling another message for the soldier. Watching as she reads it, Cantata takes the time to down her shot before ordering another drink.
I’m not entirely sure, but I trace my roots to what I believe you would refer to as Eastern Europe.

[billtodamax]

That admission seems to bring a genuine smile across Marina's face. She motions to the bartender for another shot as he comes past. Ah, then our worlds are not so different perhaps. Hopefully yours nicer than mine. How does a beautiful woman like yourself come from Europe to this world, hm? She leans closer to Cantata, ostensibly to peer over the notebook as she writes. Personally I have my suspicions it's for less scrupulous reasons.

[Arkhosia]

Cantata giggles... well, it's more a pantomime of a giggle, as her condition doesn't allow her to produce the actual sound, but the idea should come across all the same. I'm not from Earth itself I'm afraid, but it is where my heritage can be traced. I'm from Radinov, a planet not too far away in the grand scheme of things, and am simply here to find work and explore. Here her pen pauses, and Cantata glances back towards Marina with an inquisitive look, taking a sip of the White Russian she had ordered before writing a couple more sentences and turning back to look expectantly at the other woman.
What about you? I'm sure you're far more interesting than lil ol' me~

[billtodamax]

Oh, yes. That. Marina's face drops a fraction. The question was in hindsight an obvious direction for the conversation to go. The alcohol must be affecting her.

I am... from Belarus. Vitebsk. Possibly a different earth than yours. We were invaded, and, well it didn't go so well. We fought back - even won many battles! Her speech is stilted and slow. She pauses to take her shot. Just... not the important one. I... a rift opened up, and I was sucked into it. Here I am. She finishes abruptly before calling out. Another please, bartender! Cantata will get the sense that this is definitely not the whole story.

Oh no Marina's being a downer again!

[Arkhosia]

Cantata frowns, looking towards the woman with newfound concern. She had seen a few fellow adventurers with a haunted look about them, and they always evoked a pang of sympathy. Once again those gloved digits make their way to one of Marina’s shoulders - although this time to pull her a little closer rather than merely offer slight comfort. That sounds terrible, I can only imagine what that must have been like.... Here her pen pauses, and she takes a moment to consider the next words. I grew up in a world long after great war and without such otherworldly terrors. I only have glimpses into what your experiences might have been. Perhaps your time here has been better for you?

[billtodamax]

Marina accepts the embrace without comment, leaning into Cantata and watching her write in silence. Calmer, perhaps. She says after a time. Better? On the whole, I suppose. She doesn't remotely believe what she's saying. She reaches out for her next shot, cradling it in her hand. I have helped some people here, yes, but... The words escape her. How can this replace what she had?

[Arkhosia]

But it doesn’t quite fill the void? Cantata inquires, a glimmer of understanding in her amber eyes. It had become increasingly clear that the slight tinges of emotion she had felt since sitting down were all from this woman, and she was truly starting to ascertain the source behind the amount of guilt and sorrow she felt. Changing pages to continue, her gloved hand rubbed soothingly down Marina’s upper arm. Am I right that you lost something or someone deeply important to you? I know how it feels to lose what makes you who you are - I was a singer once, believe it or not - and I can sense those same emotions in you. Letting her pen rest, she turns to focus fully on Marina with concerned countenance. She wanted to help her, that much was abundantly clear in her gaze and her words.

[billtodamax]

Oh Hilde. Marina's head drops into her hand before Cantata finishes writing, shot returned to the bar. She quietly starts to sob. Any grief that Cantata was feeling from her before this now starts to overflow. It should have been me.

[Arkhosia]

The suggestions of grief tinging Cantata's mind grow to a point that she actually starts to feel it herself, and she has to make a conscious effort to resist it from affecting her too greatly. As the woman beside her starts to sob, the mute leans closer to her, wrapping her arms around her in a warm embrace to try and help ease the depths of depression practically radiating from her. Oh, how badly Cantata wanted to give her more comfort than this! She wanted to tell her that she could not blame herself, that surely this Hilde would have felt the same if she were standing her instead of Marina... but of course, she could not speak, and such words went unspoken. Instead, all she could do was offer herself as a shoulder to cry on, and offer her a small handkerchief she kept in one of the pockets of her jacket.

[billtodamax]

It takes... a few minutes before Marina is able to compose herself. Her eyes are red and her nose is runny - helped by the handkerchief - but she is still a bit of a mess.

I am sorry for that. She manages to say quietly, before sighing. Thank you for the drink, but, I think I will be going home now. She moves to stand up.

[Arkhosia]

Cantata nods, understanding completely. It hadn't been too long ago that she could have been in Marina's shoes, after all. Letting go to let the woman leave, she raises a hand to get her attention before scribbling something down. Tearing the scrap of paper out from her notebook, she hands it to the soldier and gives her a friendly smile.
There's no need to apologize, dear. Feelings do no good bottled up, grief most of all. If you ever need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a friend to help, don't hesitate to send me a message.
Below these words is a simple phone number, presumably Cantata's.

[billtodamax]

Thank you. She says, taking the note from Cantata and giving her a brief smile. If you wanted to catch up in happier times, my number is <numbers>. With that she'll leave the bar, walking slightly unsteadily - nothing too alarming.

[Lord Magtok]

Let's be reasonable here, Malice. You don't want to get into a fight in the Black Dragon's Den. You don't want to get blood on your nice clean black suit and red tie, or those gorgeous new brass prosthetics. You don't want to take a chance on Intervention stumbling upon your little fistfight, or for the Den's management or patrons to get involved. These sorts of complications are bad for business. Maybe when we're good and established we can take risks, do things that are bad for business, but right now? It's too soon, we're too vulnerable.

"Piece of garbage, dealing in my territory," Malice hisses, casually striding into the Den, in pursuit of a bloody, battered orc twice his size, who runs like his life depends on it. The orc stumbles and limps, only barely managing to keep ahead of man in the black suit, in spite of Malice's leisurely strides. The cuts and bruises along the tracksuit-wearing thug's legs probably have something to do with that. Magtok grabs a barstool midstride, sparing only a curt nod to the bartender before refocusing on his target and dragging the stool along behind him.

No, we don't want any of those risks. We don't want to deal with those complications. We still need to beat the **** out of this orc, though. Doesn't matter if he ducks into the nearest booze pit, thinking it's some kind of sanctuary. The Mordor Street Mad Boyz need to learn what happens when you cross Malice. Everyone needs to know what happens when you cross Malice.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Ah, the Black Dragon's Den.

Krystal remembers Obi-Wan's line about Mos Eisley as she walks in to the tavern. It fits, really.

This wasn't a place Krystal would come to often. However, she had been away from the Nexus for a while. She wanted to reacquaint herself with the way things were being run here. Who was in charge. Which groups had power where. This info was very important to someone that wanted to be a super hero here.

Based on the scene unfolding in front of her, it seems there was a conflict between groups brewing.

She stays by the doorway, clearly holding herself back from jumping in. A few years ago, she would have. Gotta stop the fights, right? Now, however...now she knows that she should wait. See what happens, what's going on.

Plus, she recognizes the guy clearly winning this encounter. He kidnapped her a while ago. She needed to have words with him.

[Lord Magtok]

"Beg. I want to hear it. Plead for mercy, scumbag," Malice demands, swinging the barstool and smashing it against the orc's back, sending the large green fellow tumbling to the floor. The stool splinters on contact.

"Please Magtok, don't hurt-" Magtok? Did that piece of trash just say Magtok?! Well just for that, we're swinging again. And again. And again.

"Malice! I am not that pretender to the throne, I am not that bumbling incompetent, I am not that whiny little antihero, I am Malice!" There. I'm sure he got the idea. Presuming he remembers any of this when he wakes up. Presuming he does actually wake up, I mean. Malice takes a step back, still shaking with rage, and reaches into his pocket for some coins to slap on the counter to cover the damages. He turns around, intent on slapping the money down and leaving when he spots Krystal. Oh. Oh crap. How much of that meltdown did she just see?

[KerfuffleMach2]

Well. That was a display.

When Malice sees Krystal, the first thing he'd probably notice is her expression. Mostly shock, but there's also a bit of curiosity in there. And disappointment.

He might notice some other changes to her appearance as well. Her hair is a bit longer than it used to be, falling past her jaw now. Her eyes, still pure white, somehow seem a lot older than they used to. She's still wearing the combination of jeans, sneakers, tube top, and denim jacket. The exposed area of her chest has a kind of ugly circular scar, about three inches wide, right where her heart is. Malice might recognize it as the kind of damage plasma would do to skin.

So...uh... She seems a little bit uncomfortable with this meeting. Understandable. He's still alive, right? That was kind of a priority for her at the moment.

[Lord Magtok]

"...Krystal. You've caught me at a very strange time in my life. I-" No, no, no. No time for clever quips or references, Malice. Make sure that orc still has a pulse, then talk. Kneel down there, press your finger against his neck, and-yes, okay, good, he lives. For now, at least. He'll probably need some medical attention and there could be quite a few broken bones, but orcs are pretty hardy creatures. We managed to avoid getting any blood on our suit too, which is ni-oh wait nevermind, there's a big ol' glob of it splattered just below the knee. Drat.

"Okay firstly, yes, he's alive. Secondly, his gang deals to children, so I couldn't have that." That's not why you were hitting him though, Malice. He mistook you for your other. The one who had to come back to the Nexus and ruin everything. It was nice being the only cyborg in town with a name that starts with M and this exact DNA sequence. We went years without him around, and even though the Malbots kicked us out of our old lair and we had to start over from nothing, I think we've done okay so far, given the circumstances.

"I uh...like what you did with your hair?" Oh no, you're not getting out of the disappointed look that easily, Malice. You dun goofed up, buddy. There's a broken orc on the floor, and his blood all over your knuckles. She saw you break a barstool against the orc's face and chest, there's no pretending that didn't happen.

Her hair is nice, though.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Krystal nods a bit. Okay. Yeah, can't have that. And she meant it. Dealing to children? That was messed up. Krystal might've done something similar to the guy.

The compliment catches her off guard. She wasn't prepared for it.

Uh...thanks. She takes a breath to steady herself, then looks at Malice with a questioning expression. I think we should talk about some things. Want a drink?

[Lord Magtok]

Malice takes a couple deep breaths of his own to try to calm himself down. He kneels beside the orc a second time, fishes a flip phone out of the clobbered criminal's pocket, and sends out a quick text or two. Was that a back alley surgeon he just reached out to? A cold-blooded warning to other orcs like the former owner of this phone? Informing his own people that their problem has been taken care of? I'm not sure, and I don't think Malice is too keen on explaining himself, since he doesn't say a word about it.

"Yeah, I guess I'll take a drink. I don't have anywhere to be for at least another hour, anyway," the brass bastard shrugs, hoping she'll be gone before then. Nothing against her, but if she's still doing that heroine thing, we're going to have a few problems. We've got too much on our plate to be getting distracted by mixed drinks and feelings.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Why was he texting on the orc's phone? Who was he texting? Krystal shook her head a bit. Focus. Didn't really matter what Malice was doing with the phone.

Yeah, might take longer than that. She goes to the bar and orders herself a shot of Jeager. Plus whatever Malice wants.

It's gonna be one of those conversations, isn't it?

So...been busy lately? As soon as her shot arrives, she downs it.

Yes. Small talk and alcohol. Best way to start this.

[Lord Magtok]

Malice settles on a Devil Brew, one of the edgier drinks on the menu. Not quite as bad as a Black Shadow, I guess, but still pretty questionable. He sips at his drink, in no great hurry to loosen his lips and accidentally reveal some terrible secret to the mutant.

"You remember the MalBots, right? They staged an insurrection, threw me out of an airlock on my undersea lair. I washed up on shore, alive somehow, with nothing but the red robes on my back. That was maybe around three years ago," explains, pausing to check the orc's phone, which I suppose he intends on keeping for himself. "I'm doing street crime now, building up for a big takeover of my old lair. You?" Yes, let's shift the conversation to what Krystal's been up to. Get off the subject of why we're beating orcs half to death in strange bars and onto something less shameful and incriminating.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Oh boy. That was a quick recap. And an easy segue for her.

Well... Krystal takes a brief moment to compose herself. Started doing the hero thing back home. Made a costume and everything. Even built up a small team. Doing that, though... She shakes her head a bit. Now I know how naive I was back when we met. Kinda starting to think your way of stopping the bad guys isn't as bad as I thought. Her blank eyes seem to be staring down at a drink stain on the bar in front of her. But not actually seeing it.

Kinda hard to tell without her having pupils, though.

[Lord Magtok]

"What happened, another Civil War?" Malice thoughtlessly asks, still struggling to see her homeworld as a real place with real people in it, even though it was one of the first places Krystal and whatshername dragged him along to, after bringing him back from the dead that one time. He's read comics and stuff; the idea of Earth-616 being anything other than fiction just sounds silly to him.

"...Sorry no, that was a bad question to ask. Something bad though, right? Something really bad, to make you doubt everything you were doing and think that what I was talking about back then was anything other than nonsense. Krystal, I'd been in hell for six years when you met me. I was not talking sense. I was more than a little cranky, reactionary, and also nostalgic for what I'd been doing six years before these idle hands became the devil's playthings." he spares a glance down towards his fingers, as if afraid they might suddenly become bathed in flames and wrapped around a sinner's throat again. Bad times, those six years. Malice would eagerly do just about anything to avoid revisiting them, short of actually being a good person.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Krystal smirks a bit. No, my world only had one of those. Hm...maybe she isn't from 616...

Her next drink order arrives. Not a shot this time. Just Captain and Coke.

No, see, I didn't say I completely agreed with what you said. Just that I could actually see the logic to it. She grips her glass, not drinking from it yet. I was helping the police go after a serial killer. Found him. And found out exactly what he did to his victims. It, uh...it was bad. Really bad. Hadn't seen anything like it before.

So, I started thinking. Reputation of a local hero didn't keep the guy from doing that. Would the reputation of a villain have worked? She shrugged a bit. I don't know. But compared to what that guy did, your stuff wasn't too bad.

[Lord Magtok]

Malice pauses to check the time on his stolen phone, before shaking his head. "Krystal, back when I was Magtok, before I died, I was a member of AMEN. We had a leader, a Regina Idiotarum, Queen of Idiots, because that's what we were back then, idiots. She was unimaginably bloodthirsty, cruel, and fickle. She had power beyond your imagining, and she regularly made use of it, to hurt me and others, whenever her whims felt it appropriate. I feared her more than I've ever feared anyone. There has never been a man, woman, or beast to strike such terror and awe, and never will be again. Even so, the one time she asked me stop my crimes, to hold back my wicked ways-" Malice pauses to sip at his drink, and try to contain the shudder that goes down his spine. Magtok eventually found ways to cope with these psychological scars. He had friends to help him move forward and change his way of thinking, so that the dead queen no longer had such a hold on his psyche. Malice has never been so lucky. The very thought of physical intimacy, the touch of a woman, still makes him sick to his stomach.

"I refused. I spat in the face of God, Krystal. I fought tooth and nail, not for love of country or some greater good or the safety of a loved one, because I had none of those things in my heart, but out of fury and spite and pride. I knew I would be crushed beneath her heel, I knew I would suffer a thousand times whatever wounds I inflicted upon her, and I did, but still, I fought, and I suffered, because violence is inescapable. Evil will always find a way, even if it's stupid, even if the consequences are unimaginably terrifying. A hero's job isn't to eliminate all evil from the world, but to contain its spread, to keep the body healthy. You can't trust villains to do that; they'll only stomp the bugs that personally get in their way, leave the rest to eat the world alive. Your serial killer either wouldn't have gotten in Dr. Doom's way, keeping their kills under his radar, or they would've said to hell with it like I did, and gone out in a bloody blaze of glory." Malice lifts his edgy drink to his lips again, gulping down most of it in one swig this time. That's not a story he likes telling, even if he got through it without mentioning that part.

"Heroes do good work. They're a vital, necessary part of this world, and your own. I'm not, never was, and never will be." Okay, there goes the rest of the Devil Brew. Yikes, that was a lot to gulp down all at once like that.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Krystal really wants to put an arm around Malice's shoulders right now. Offer some kind of comfort. But, she senses he might not react well to it.

She takes a swig from her glass, then looks to Malice. You just beat the ever loving crap out of a guy because he was dealing drugs to kids. I'd call that a heroic act.

She let's out a sigh and takes another drink. I know that I can't stop all the evil that happens. I get that now. Took me a while, though. And I also realized that the threat of getting caught by some heroes and turned over to the cops doesn't stop some people. But getting caught by villains? She shakes her head a bit. The crime rate of Latveria is pretty damn low.

Krystal finishes her drink in one go.

I just wanted to let you know that, while I don't exactly like your reasons, or your methods, I can't exactly argue with the results. You may be doing it for selfish reasons, but you are helping cut down on bad stuff happening. I can get behind that.

She orders another drink.

So, on a lighter note, what kinds of trouble are you getting into these days?

[Lord Magtok]

There's a long, awkward pause, as Malice tries his hardest to figure out a way to dodge the question. Maybe he should be vague or just lie again. I mean, there's an unconscious orc on the floor, do you think she'll disbelieve you if you say you sell drugs or run a protection racket? We don't have to get into the specifics, just say something halfway convincing. Seriously, she didn't even blink when we said we were doing street crime, so just say something that falls under that umbrella, without getting into what we actually do, and we'll be fine!

"I'm...I uh..." He glances at his drink, but the rotten traitor is already empty, and he can't sip at that to buy time to come up with a convincing lie. "Did you pass by the Children of Abuse Rescue and Education center on your way here? It's a front. CARE's a front. I'm...I'm laundering mob money, I'm selling drugs, I'm doing all kinds of terrible things behind the scenes there, I'm-hey, could I get another one of these Devil Brews, please?" Malice, I don't think she's going to believe a single one of those lies, buddy. You were trying just a little too hard to keep up appearances; I think the jig is up.

[KerfuffleMach2]

Krystal raises a pale eyebrow as she sips her own drink. Man, that eyebrow gets pretty high. She could probably give The Rock a run for his money.

Uh-huh. Right. Sure.

Ya know...somehow, I don't believe you. At all.

She sighs a bit.

Look, Malice...I'm gonna be doing the hero thing here now. And while I'm a bit more lenient towards some crimes, if I find out you're doing stuff to hurt people? Innocent people? I'm gonna come for you. And you won't like it.

And I'd rather find out from you, now, than discover things later.

[Lord Magtok]

"Oh fine, I guess I'll come clean. Krystal, if I had crimes to brag about, don't you think you'd know about them by now?" Malice laughs bitterly, and shakes his head. "If you're looking for some kind of sneaky scoundrel supercriminal, he died like two years ago. Took too many blows to the head, retired, gave up. Nobody wanted to work with the guy who looks like Magtok; too much negative attention. No robots to work with, no money to get by on, every punk from here to Riverside wanting to prove themselves by taking on the cyborg...this worthless punk on the floor is my first voluntary crime, my first fight I initiated in ages. Mostly I'm just waiting to die again. MagClones aren't supposed to live this long and now that Magtok's back, my plan to steal the cave and my name are over." One wonders why he can't just murder Magtok and take the MagCave by force, instead of waiting for the cyborg to die or leave the Nexus forever. Is he really that intimidated by the other clones?

[KerfuffleMach2]

Krystal stays silent for a moment as she seems to think about something. She takes a drink from her glass. She looks to Malice.

Sounds like you need a new job. She smiles. I'm thinking of opening up a comic shop in Inside. Wanna work with me?

Hm. Don't think Malice was prepared for that.