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redshiftlogs2019-06-30 09:07 pm
modblob) wrote in redshiftlogs2019-06-30 09:07 pm
Entry tags:
- !mod post: intro mingle,
- dragon age: cole,
- expanse: alex kamal,
- far cry 5: staci pratt,
- hunger games: annie cresta,
- hunger games: finnick odair,
- izombie: drake holloway,
- mcu: peter parker,
- mortal kombat: kabal,
- original: cho takahashi,
- poison: poison,
- umbrella academy: ben hargreeves,
- umbrella academy: diego hargreeves,
- umbrella academy: eudora patch,
- umbrella academy: klaus hargreeves,
- warm bodies: julie grigio
july 2019. welcome to the void.
Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: First Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of July 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.
A few hours after the first arrivals, odd noises start to filter up from the pavilion and park at the base of the city. Limp whistles, the gunfire pop of small fireworks, and music from what sounds like a broken kazoo. It seems as though the still-functioning robots of Anchor are trying to welcome their new human overlords, based on programming that hasn't been exercised in... uh, shall we say "a while"?
Three of them have formed a tiny off-key band playing unfamiliar tunes from crackling speakers. One of the three punctuates the music at odd moments by smashing together a pair of cymbals that seem to have been constructed from a flattened pot and a trash can lid. Two others man the refreshments table. Some of the food looks downright inedible, but there are piles of wild berries from the upper floors. Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries. Apples and cherries. Fruits that shouldn't be in season together but somehow still are. There's a strange and vaguely triangular pastry that tastes like hot cinnamon candy. There are piles of vegetables, too, though the only preparation they've had is to be washed and dumped in baskets.
One of the chef bots has put some work in, though, and there are a couple of stews and soups available for the adventurous. All of them are made with the raw ingredients available to eat on the tables. One of them even has meat in it, though that's best consumed by people with very hardy stomachs.
At the end of the refreshment table is a cluster of fresh-pressed juices and unlabeled alcohol bottles, with uneven stacks of cups stationed around them. (Careful, some of the cups are cracked.) Even the good old bar bot is doing his part, pouring out glasses of orange juice and straight shots of tequila. A very generous compromise in place of his usual tequila sunrises. Right? Right.
The most conspicuous robot is the one setting off fireworks. It’s already blown off one six-fingered hand, but by god that hasn’t stopped it. With every small cluster of colorful explosives, the thing throws back its chunky head and gives a sound that can only be described as a metallic cackle.
Might want to watch that guy.
In the wee hours of the morning after the robots' attempted welcome, the impacts against the dome overhead start. Meteorites, some of them as large as a person's head, bombard the shield and the area around for miles. The alarms that start throughout the colony are enough to wake anyone up, if the thunderous noise of the cosmic storm wasn't enough to do it.
And the alarms aren't for the meteorites. The red shift is rising up around the colony, that phenomenon that no one from the past had the foresight to give more than vague warnings about. New residents who have done some digging will know exactly what’s going on, but for those who’ve avoided even thinking about what’s happened to them, well. It could be a nasty surprise.
Anyone sensible would stay inside with all of that going on, but there's something else: life signs. The communication devices given to residents on arrival light up, indicating the presence of no less than five flecks of life out there in the wastes. Odds are good that at least a few of them are monsters from other worlds, or twisted radioactive creatures warped by the planet itself. But one of them is very human, and has been here for a very long time.
Should residents venture out to investigate these life signs, they’ll find the farthest one to be a man in protective gear, flickering like a badly received signal. As the red shift starts to fade, he solidifies, and as the shift finally dies away, he wrenches off his helmet with one hand and falls to his knees. He's as twisted as the creatures the planet has corrupted, one eye socket nothing but a depression sealed by flesh. His lips on that side curves sharply upward, barely hiding teeth too sharp and long for a human mouth. It's clear now while he pulled off his helmet with one hand--the other is a wreck, a blackened stony mass sealed to the cuff of his radiation suit.
He can hear you coming, if you're brave enough to approach. He can hear you coming, and will turn his one orange-irised eye to watch you until you speak.
Welcome to Anchor, where sometimes you're the only thing between you and the catastrophic failure of life support systems. After the red shift ends, the radioactivity warning alarms will at least fall silent. The cosmic storm has passed, and for a little while there's quiet under the dome.
But those exploring the upper reaches of the city might hear new alarms, much softer and less insistent than the radiation alarms. They're coming from one of the survey rooms near the garage and the exits to the surface. It might take a little doing to pull up the screens triggering the alarms, but you'll be glad you put in the work. It turns out, those meteorites damaged several of the exterior sensors and one of the major radiation and light transfer panels that help keep anchor supplied with energy--and help keep the shield dome in good working order.
While the damage is easy to see and isn't too hard to fix for those with some technical know-how, there are life signs moving slowly closer to the colony. It's quite possible to fix the damage and get back inside before those life signs arrive, but there's also the risk of being caught in the open and facing down some of the planet's native creatures.
In this case, they're large, furry millipede-like creatures no less than seven feet long. They're perfectly harmless, if you don't count the fact that they seem intent on trying to eat the protective gear and tools you've brought out onto the surface with you. It's not their fault that your arms are inside those delicious radiation suits.
A few days of genuine quiet follow the fixing of the exterior damage. Time to explore, to get lost, to drink more than your doctor might recommend at the colony's only serviceable bar. Enough time to feel the weight of Anchor's emptiness.
The next time you walk into the bar, there's a see-through stranger at the pool table, smiling warmly in welcome. "Want a game?"
Get too close, and he disappears. But he was there--he was clearly there. The cue he was holding clatters to the ground and rolls over to rest at your feet.
Down in the pavilion, there are children playing in the park. Throwing balls, playing tag, their laughs echoing somehow in the open air. Invisible parents call for them to be careful or slow down. Now and then one of them will vanish midstep, only to appear again back where they were ten minutes ago and start their run through the park all over again. They can see you. One or two might even invite you to join their games, taking your hand in their own, leading you toward their fellows. And when they do, you can hear their parents' voices exclaiming in shock. A rush of shadows scoop up these phantom children and whisk them away into some invisible world where you can't follow, only hear the children crying in fear.
All around the colony, shades appear and vanish, some solid enough to touch, some just barely visible. Some are inexplicably aggressive, attacking anyone who tries to talk to them or get too close. Just as many run screaming or sobbing at the sight of you.
But there are others, too, who seem to recognize you. One of these is a young woman holding a gun like she has no idea how to use it. When approached, she almost starts to cry. "Oh, thank god. We have to get the kids to quarantine. We have to get them into lockdown. Those bastards-- Those sons of bitches-- The kids should at least have a chance."
She starts to turn, and a laser blast rips through her, lancing across the wall right where a deep score mark still exists, not in the least ghostly or unreal. If you touch it now, it feels warm.
What: First Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of July 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.
Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.
Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.
a. bot party.
A few hours after the first arrivals, odd noises start to filter up from the pavilion and park at the base of the city. Limp whistles, the gunfire pop of small fireworks, and music from what sounds like a broken kazoo. It seems as though the still-functioning robots of Anchor are trying to welcome their new human overlords, based on programming that hasn't been exercised in... uh, shall we say "a while"? Three of them have formed a tiny off-key band playing unfamiliar tunes from crackling speakers. One of the three punctuates the music at odd moments by smashing together a pair of cymbals that seem to have been constructed from a flattened pot and a trash can lid. Two others man the refreshments table. Some of the food looks downright inedible, but there are piles of wild berries from the upper floors. Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries. Apples and cherries. Fruits that shouldn't be in season together but somehow still are. There's a strange and vaguely triangular pastry that tastes like hot cinnamon candy. There are piles of vegetables, too, though the only preparation they've had is to be washed and dumped in baskets.
One of the chef bots has put some work in, though, and there are a couple of stews and soups available for the adventurous. All of them are made with the raw ingredients available to eat on the tables. One of them even has meat in it, though that's best consumed by people with very hardy stomachs.
At the end of the refreshment table is a cluster of fresh-pressed juices and unlabeled alcohol bottles, with uneven stacks of cups stationed around them. (Careful, some of the cups are cracked.) Even the good old bar bot is doing his part, pouring out glasses of orange juice and straight shots of tequila. A very generous compromise in place of his usual tequila sunrises. Right? Right.
The most conspicuous robot is the one setting off fireworks. It’s already blown off one six-fingered hand, but by god that hasn’t stopped it. With every small cluster of colorful explosives, the thing throws back its chunky head and gives a sound that can only be described as a metallic cackle.
Might want to watch that guy.
b. life signs in the wasteland.
In the wee hours of the morning after the robots' attempted welcome, the impacts against the dome overhead start. Meteorites, some of them as large as a person's head, bombard the shield and the area around for miles. The alarms that start throughout the colony are enough to wake anyone up, if the thunderous noise of the cosmic storm wasn't enough to do it. And the alarms aren't for the meteorites. The red shift is rising up around the colony, that phenomenon that no one from the past had the foresight to give more than vague warnings about. New residents who have done some digging will know exactly what’s going on, but for those who’ve avoided even thinking about what’s happened to them, well. It could be a nasty surprise.
Anyone sensible would stay inside with all of that going on, but there's something else: life signs. The communication devices given to residents on arrival light up, indicating the presence of no less than five flecks of life out there in the wastes. Odds are good that at least a few of them are monsters from other worlds, or twisted radioactive creatures warped by the planet itself. But one of them is very human, and has been here for a very long time.
Should residents venture out to investigate these life signs, they’ll find the farthest one to be a man in protective gear, flickering like a badly received signal. As the red shift starts to fade, he solidifies, and as the shift finally dies away, he wrenches off his helmet with one hand and falls to his knees. He's as twisted as the creatures the planet has corrupted, one eye socket nothing but a depression sealed by flesh. His lips on that side curves sharply upward, barely hiding teeth too sharp and long for a human mouth. It's clear now while he pulled off his helmet with one hand--the other is a wreck, a blackened stony mass sealed to the cuff of his radiation suit.
He can hear you coming, if you're brave enough to approach. He can hear you coming, and will turn his one orange-irised eye to watch you until you speak.
c. hairy repairs.
Welcome to Anchor, where sometimes you're the only thing between you and the catastrophic failure of life support systems. After the red shift ends, the radioactivity warning alarms will at least fall silent. The cosmic storm has passed, and for a little while there's quiet under the dome. But those exploring the upper reaches of the city might hear new alarms, much softer and less insistent than the radiation alarms. They're coming from one of the survey rooms near the garage and the exits to the surface. It might take a little doing to pull up the screens triggering the alarms, but you'll be glad you put in the work. It turns out, those meteorites damaged several of the exterior sensors and one of the major radiation and light transfer panels that help keep anchor supplied with energy--and help keep the shield dome in good working order.
While the damage is easy to see and isn't too hard to fix for those with some technical know-how, there are life signs moving slowly closer to the colony. It's quite possible to fix the damage and get back inside before those life signs arrive, but there's also the risk of being caught in the open and facing down some of the planet's native creatures.
In this case, they're large, furry millipede-like creatures no less than seven feet long. They're perfectly harmless, if you don't count the fact that they seem intent on trying to eat the protective gear and tools you've brought out onto the surface with you. It's not their fault that your arms are inside those delicious radiation suits.
d. shadows of the past.
A few days of genuine quiet follow the fixing of the exterior damage. Time to explore, to get lost, to drink more than your doctor might recommend at the colony's only serviceable bar. Enough time to feel the weight of Anchor's emptiness. The next time you walk into the bar, there's a see-through stranger at the pool table, smiling warmly in welcome. "Want a game?"
Get too close, and he disappears. But he was there--he was clearly there. The cue he was holding clatters to the ground and rolls over to rest at your feet.
Down in the pavilion, there are children playing in the park. Throwing balls, playing tag, their laughs echoing somehow in the open air. Invisible parents call for them to be careful or slow down. Now and then one of them will vanish midstep, only to appear again back where they were ten minutes ago and start their run through the park all over again. They can see you. One or two might even invite you to join their games, taking your hand in their own, leading you toward their fellows. And when they do, you can hear their parents' voices exclaiming in shock. A rush of shadows scoop up these phantom children and whisk them away into some invisible world where you can't follow, only hear the children crying in fear.
All around the colony, shades appear and vanish, some solid enough to touch, some just barely visible. Some are inexplicably aggressive, attacking anyone who tries to talk to them or get too close. Just as many run screaming or sobbing at the sight of you.
But there are others, too, who seem to recognize you. One of these is a young woman holding a gun like she has no idea how to use it. When approached, she almost starts to cry. "Oh, thank god. We have to get the kids to quarantine. We have to get them into lockdown. Those bastards-- Those sons of bitches-- The kids should at least have a chance."
She starts to turn, and a laser blast rips through her, lancing across the wall right where a deep score mark still exists, not in the least ghostly or unreal. If you touch it now, it feels warm.
e. ping from the rubble.
As though the presence of past residents sets it off, a persistent signal begins to broadcast from the collapsed library. It turns out there's a section not buried quite as deeply as the rest. A row of broken terminals, ending with the one sending the signal. A warning signal about the structural integrity of the library complex and the need to back up crucial data. Too little, too late, but with time and patience some of the partial files on the terminal could be reconstructed....
For those less versed in computers, there's a mysterious door just past the terminals, partially blocked off by rubble. If that can be cleared, the door leads into a dusty room with more broken terminals, but beyond that, there's a small library of real hardcover and paperback books, with comfortable chairs (some of them needing TLC), low tables, and lights (currently broken). The books are in a variety of languages, both Earth-based and alien. A flickering "skylight" at the top of the room shows a blue sky flanked by swaying trees, or a thunderstorm, or other, stranger but still friendly skies. It blinks off, sometimes, but seems determined to keep playing its peaceful scenes for those below. With some cleaning up, this could be a good retreat from the sometimes oppressive emptiness of Anchor.
For those less versed in computers, there's a mysterious door just past the terminals, partially blocked off by rubble. If that can be cleared, the door leads into a dusty room with more broken terminals, but beyond that, there's a small library of real hardcover and paperback books, with comfortable chairs (some of them needing TLC), low tables, and lights (currently broken). The books are in a variety of languages, both Earth-based and alien. A flickering "skylight" at the top of the room shows a blue sky flanked by swaying trees, or a thunderstorm, or other, stranger but still friendly skies. It blinks off, sometimes, but seems determined to keep playing its peaceful scenes for those below. With some cleaning up, this could be a good retreat from the sometimes oppressive emptiness of Anchor.
no subject
I know it could fly, didn't really have a chance to see what else it could do, though.
[Things had gotten kind of uuuuh. Dusty.
For a second he's worried he might have said something wrong. I mean, he basically just asked the guy if demons stole his poop. Yeeeah, he's mentally kicking himself for that one, good job Peter. But it's okay, Ben seems pretty chill about it. Crisis averted.]
Oh, okay, that makes-- well, it doesn't make more sense, but it is significantly less alarming.
[He kind of wants to see it? But being like "yo show me your tummy demons" seems like something that would be really awkward so he's just not going to ask.]
no subject
He is just moving the last hunk of crumbling stone out of the way when Peter says the clarification made Ben's powers sound less alarming. Ben's reaction is immediate and involuntary; he bursts out laughing. It isn't funny, really. But he can't help thinking how easy it would be to crank that dial right past alarming to 'outright traumatizing'. He remembers all too well how random civilians - even ones whose lives he was actively saving - always reacted to seeing his powers. They would scream in blind fear, run in any direction like wild animals. Others would freeze, or throw up, or wet their pants. Ben had pretty much seen it all. So Peter, telling him in that conversational, happy way, that it's not so alarming after all... yeah, it's kind of funny.
Fortunately for both of them, Peter doesn't ask to see a demonstration, and Ben doesn't have to explain why that would be a very bad idea. Instead, he gestures to the door and says: ]
Think we could get it open, now?
[ There is no more rubble in the way, but the door could be locked, or damaged. Ben eyes it over, wondering again what is on the other side. It occurs to him in a distant way that it might be dangerous. If that's the case - monsters or zombies or who knows what - then maybe Peter will get that demonstration after all. ]
no subject
Oh yeah, I think we got this.
[Peter dusts his hands off and approaches the door, attempting to open it. BUT, the door doesn't open right away. He can't tell if it's locked or broken, but it's whatev, he starts forcing the door open.]
If something jumps out and latches onto my face and eats my brain, tell my roommate she can have my stuff.
no subject
[ Ben moves in close behind Peter, just in case there is some threat that will make itself known as soon as the door is open. In his head, he is already planning what would be necessary. He would need to first get Peter out of the way, quick, put some distance between them. Then he would assess what kind of threat they were dealing with...
All that is going on in the back of his mind as Peter pulls at the door. ]
But don't worry. I won't let anything hurt you.
[ Said with the calm resolve of someone who believes he can keep that promise. He watches, nervous and eager, as Peter applies himself and absolutely wrenches the door off its hinges. It is a very Luther move, and Ben smiles slightly, stepping forward and peering into the unlit room. A moment later, his device is out, and he's flicked on the flashlight function - what a useful one that had been to discover. Inside is a dusty room. No signs of life, no movement. Ben turns to Peter, nodding towards the now unsealed room. ]
Shall we?
no subject
[Since nothing seems to be jumping out to eat them though, there's no need to worry about leaving all of his stuff to her. Not that he has a ton of stuff anyway, but hey.
He sets the door aside and pulls out his own device, switching it's light on while he follows Ben inside. After a little bit of searching, he finds the switch for the skylight and turns it on. It's not really the most reliable light ever, kinda flickery, might need replaced, but it kind of helps a little bit.]
Whoof. That's a lot of dust. Not as bad as some of the other places I've seen, though.
no subject
[ Ben sticks close beside Peter even after they've come into the room and no dangers are presenting themselves. The flickering light helps somewhat to get their bearings. Ben tries to agree with Peter about the dust, except there is too much dust for him to do it, thanks to an unexpected sneezing fit.
Sneezing for the first time in a decade and a half sure is a weird experience...
Once Ben manages to stop sneezing, he gives his head a little shake and moves past the computer terminals; they're not really of interest to him, yet. He olds the light up high and then says: ]
There are more books back here!
[ There is an unchecked joy in the words that Ben hadn't meant to be there; the words had just burst out of him on a wave of sudden happiness. He quickly crosses over to the shelves to run his fingers along the spines. Some titles he knows. Others he doesn't. Many books are in other languages, only some of which he recognizes. ]
This is awesome...
no subject
She's cool, just uh. A little quiet, I guess.
[Peter's super interested in these terminals, but he'll come back to them later. Odds are they probably don't even have power right now. Also Ben is just so goddamn excited about books that Peter can't help but want to tag along. And also maybe he's a little excited about books too. It's a nerd thing.]
Dude, this is awesome! I wasn't expecting to find something like this around here. You think these'll fall apart if we pick them up? Looks like this room hasn't been used in forever.
no subject
Definitely cool.
[ Once they're exploring the bookshelves, Ben flashes a grin to Peter, glad he isn't the only one excited by this. He reaches out and tugs gently at the spine of a hardcover book, careful not to jostle too much as he works it free. There's an awful lot of dust, that he doesn't brush off as he lets the book fall open into his hands. Ben flips back and forth through the pages,, looking and listening for signs of the glue disintegrating, but the book is still sound.
He's half-distracted examining the volume when he answers Peter: ]
Man, that's probably why they're in such good condition, you know. The room was blocked off. Sealed. No light, no big fluctuations in humidity or temperature, no people to pick them up and mangle them.
[ He slides the book back into place on the shelf and picks another at random, looking it over with the same amount of care and attention. In another life, in a different kind of world, maybe this could have been something Ben did for a living. Looked after old books like this. He thinks he would have been happy, in a life like that. ]
See any you recognize?
no subject
Yeah, I think you're right. This place would have been completely cut off from the elements. The... no people part is still creepy, but uh... good for book preservation, I guess.
[That got a little morbid. Oops?
Peter busies himself with scanning the books, pulling one off the shelf to flip through.]
I don't recognize any yet. Think anyone would have... I dunno, written down any history on this place? That would be a cool find.
no subject
[ It is an involuntary noise of surprise; while the first two books that Ben had pulled from the shelf had been fine, the third is decidedly not. There is a hole burned clean through it; it is a neat circle, but the edges are slightly singed. Holding it up so Peter can see, he asks: ]
What do you think, laser...?
[ The more books he pulls free to examine, the more he realizes that many of them are past saving. There are quite a few with extensive water damage, and others that seem to have been damaged in some kind of battle.
Peter's question is an interesting one; Ben had only been hoping to find a little entertainment and escape, on these shelves, but more information about the Anchor would be useful. Ben takes a step back, scanning the shelves. Many of the books are in covers that make it hard to tell what they are without opening them, or whether they're intact or damaged. Putting his hands on his hips, he blows out a breath and says: ]
I think we are gonna need to take all these down and sort through them. All of 'em. That way we can make a list, and make sure there's no leaks or anything that will damage them any more. 'Cause you're right - there could be valuable information in here, with some clues as to what's up with this place.
[ Ben draws in a breath, squares his shoulders, and starts to empty the one of shelves onto the nearest low table. No time like the present. Though he's got no clue how he's going to reach the stuff on the highest shelf. There must have been some kind of ladder or step around before, but there's no sign of it now. ]
no subject
[Someone's priorities were a little off. Maybe one of the robots had been in here cleaning at some point? Who even knows.
BUT HEY, now they had a plan. Seeing that Ben can't reach the top shelf, Peter just climbs his butt on up and starts handing books down to him.]
What about these like, soggy ones? Should we just prop them open or something?
no subject
[ Ben doesn't answer Peter's question about what to do with the waterlogged books. He knows what to do with them, but he's too busy gaping at the way Peter has climbed up to hand them down. He didn't just scramble onto a shelf, the way that any other perhaps slightly disreputable teen might have done. No, instead he just sort of... stuck to the wall and went straight up it. Kind of... ]
...like a spider.
[ Whoops, he said that last bit out loud. Before, though, when he'd thought Peter only had enhanced strength, having gotten it from a spider bite seemed random, a complete mismatch. But if he can do this, too - just sort of scale a completely vertical surface without handholds... maybe there's more congruity than he realized.
He realizes belatedly that he is actually pointing, and shakes himself, reaching out for the books that Peter is handing down. He sets them on the low table blindly, not taking his eyes off the kid. ]
no subject
Oh, right. I'm sticky.
...Out of context that probably sounds really gross and weird? It's just one of my spider things, I can stick to pretty much anything.
no subject
It's not gross or weird. Trust me, compared to my thing... stickiness is least gross power ever. I was just - it took me until right then to get it. You got bit by a spider, you can do spider stuff. Before with just the super strength, it seemed kind of random.
[ He reaches up to take the next book, and the two of them get into a rhythm where Peter empties the top shelf and Ben sets the books carefully down. He can see how only Peter's fingertips are touching the wall, anchoring him completely. Wild. ]
Probably be useful for, like, rock climbing, if you're into that.
no subject
Oh no, the super strength thing is totally spider related. Some spiders can lift like 170 times their own weight.
[Peter Parker with the spider facts over here. Once the top shelf is cleared, Peter hops back down to the floor and dusts himself off. Everything in here is so goddamn dusty holy shit.]
I've never been rock climbing, think I'd like it though. I'm from New York, sooo I mostly just climbed sky scrapers.
no subject
[ Actually, the more he's thinking about it, the more he's realizing that spider-related powers actually sound really useful. And Peter's demeanor is so cheerful... he doesn't seem bothered by talking about them at all. In fact, he seems kind of eager to. Ben likes spider facts. He would like more, please. ]
Okay, now it's my turn to ask a maybe-stupid question, but- are you, like. Venomous, also?
[ When Ben thinks about spiders, and their notable traits, that is kind of a big one...
Once Peter is down off the wall, Ben continues scooping books from the shelves and laying them out, handling them carefully now that he knows some are damaged. There is something kind of enjoyable about this. He feels finally like he is accomplishing something, and Peter's company is lovely, really. ]
And people didn't freak out?
[ It sounds like there are some things different between their worlds but surely people are still people, and some of them worried a lot when a child was seen clinging to the edge of a skyscraper, seemingly unsupported by anything at all??? ]
I'm from the city, too, but I was taught a little rock climbing. 'Cause you never know where a criminal mastermind or supervillain is going to hide their lair, I guess.
no subject
Nah, I think that's a pretty valid question. See, I don't know if I'm venomous? But I did have a doctor at the last place I was tell me that I shouldn't like, for example, donate blood. So, I'm probably not venomous, but something's going on. But uh, yeah, I think people just got used to me climbing on buildings after a while. Well, they got used to Spider-Man. Nobody knew who I actually was, I had a mask and stuff.
[It might complicate his dating life somewhere down the line but he's not going to start biting people and injecting radioactive spider venom into them, so it's fiiiiiiiiiine.
Peter's helping sort the books out where he can, but it looks like Ben has a pretty good handle on things so he's mostly just going to try to stay out of the way.]
no subject
[ It's worth asking, not just out of curiosity, but because it might be good for somebody to have that information on the off-chance Peter gets hurt. Might be something someone would have to pass on to the robots in the medbay. Ben had never considered the complications that might come from a perhaps-contagious superpower, or at least one that could alter DNA in some way... ]
Oh!
[ He smiles, surprised, when Peter mentions that he had worn a mask before, had an alias and everything. Ben hadn't assumed, just because the kid's got powers, that he had used them in that particular way. But it is something they have in common - something that had been pretty much Ben's whole life, while he was alive. ]
So you did the whole masked hero thing, too, huh?
[ Then, thinking back to the other powered individuals Peter had mentioned, and the way he talked about them - Ben pauses and asks, uncertainly: ]
...by yourself?
no subject
Uh, yeah, uh... I've never actually had any tests or anything done for it? So I really don't know. It kinda all comes back around to the whole secret identity superhero thing, I didn't want people getting into my business.
[SHRUG okay so maybe his approach to the super hero life hadn't been all that well thought out. That's fiiiine, he's still newish to it and there's room to grow. Or whatever.]
I mostly worked alone, I only really worked with the Avengers like, twice. What about you?
no subject
[ The fact that Ben presents this as a reasonable precaution is one more indication that his perspective is skewed. It had been longer than he'd like to admit before he realized it wasn't normal to go to bed covered in electrodes. There was nothing about him that had not been measured and sampled and run through centrifuges and stress tests and documented in excruciating detail.
He hadn't really considered how it would interfere with things like that, to be the kind of superhero who had to keep their identity a secret. For Ben, he had never had a chance for an identity outside of being a hero. They wore the masks, but everyone knew their names. ]
I can see how that wouldn't leave you a lot of options. Can't really show up to a hospital in a mask and expect them to respect your anonymity.
[ Ben's hands still for a moment from rearranging the books, and he looks over to Peter, sympathy and understanding in his face. ]
I get that. I mean, it was really different, for me. Everybody knew who we were. We were, like, famous. [ There's no pride in the way he says it - just resignation and vague disgust. ] People were always taking our pictures, wanting interviews, waiting outside our house, sending us creepy fanmail, you know. So... I feel you.
[ A little furrow forms between his brows when Peter says he mostly worked on his own. ]
The Avengers is a team of heroes, in your world? With - cloak guy, etcetera? For me, it was me and my siblings. The Umbrella Academy. We all- [ A brief hesitation, a little lurch of unhappy unease as he thinks of Vanya, but that would take too long to explain right now. ] -we all trained for it all our lives. But I can't imagine- finding your way to it, later in life. Figuring it out yourself and- going out without anyone else.
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[Peter may have superhuman durability, but he still manages to get pretty banged up sometimes. Keeping some of his own blood in reserve might not be a bad idea just in case.]
But man, that sounds rough. Like, all of that right there? That's exactly why I don't want my identity out. At least not until I'm finished with school or something. Everybody knows who the other Avengers are, though. The secret identity thing is just a me thing. People would probably be weird about someone my age doing what I was doing.
...Speaking of which, how old were you and all your siblings?
[Not that he has any room to judge, he's been doing this shit since he was fifteen, but eeehhhhhhhh...]
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When Peter says the publicity and fans and the lot of it sounded rough, Ben gives a wry little smile and says, with friendly sarcasm: ]
Yeah, it wasn't ideal. And I bet it'd be even less ideal if you were trying to live a semi-normal life at the same time. [ A pause as Ben considers. The more he talks to Peter, the less tempted he is to lie, twist things to make them sound better than they were. He likes this kid. He kind of wants to be friends with him, in a legit way. But that poses the question of how to be honest without oversharing or making things uncomfortable. ] Like, none of us went to school. Or had friends. Or - were allowed to leave the house if it wasn't part of training or on a mission.
[ He says it lightly, but he knows maybe the whole 'rich guy adopts a bunch of babies with superpowers' thing is starting to sound a little bit less like a charming kid's story and a little bit more uncomfy to Peter. Ben turns his eyes back to the books, starting to sort out the ones with the worst water damage, standing them up vertically to let any remaining water drain away. It's good to have something to do with his hands anyway. ]
I think we were, like, thirteen when we had our official debut mission, and let the press know we existed and all that. [ Those pictures of him in the paper, smaller than most of his other siblings, standing in the back, looking like he wanted to disappear. Covered head to toe in blood. What a great first impression on the world that was. ] Stopped a bank robbery. But we had been doing smaller, covert missions for a few months leading up to that, and training... well, as far back as I can remember.
[ It is so strange, reflecting back on those days, talking to someone without pre-existing biases about Reginald Hargreeves or the Umbrella Academy. Imagining how it must sound to Peter is... bracing. Which is why Ben asks about him. He wants to know how it had been for Peter. To hear a story that maybe (he hopes) is just a little bit happier. ]
So the other Avengers are older? [ Otherwise, Peter would know whether they would be weird about his age or not. Stands to reason. ] How many of you are there? How old were you when you started? And- how'd you join them if you didn't all train together or come from the same place?
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That's... kinda rough, buddy. Not gonna lie, but that's like super unfair for you and your siblings.
[He probably doesn't have to tell Ben that, he's probably fully aware of how unfair it all is.]
Oh boy, uhhh. Twelve-ish, I wanna say? But I was also like, brand new before I got all teleported to places like this, so there could be others I didn't know about, or others that work with the Avengers but aren't like, officially members. Uh, I was recruited when I was fifteen, aaaand this guy Tony Stark found someone's footage of me on Youtube and managed to track me down and stalk me to my apartment.
... It wasn't actually as creepy as it sounds, I promise.
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So he gives a rolling shrug, and adds in a much more casual way: ]
Oh, trust me, it was all super fucked up. In a hundred different ways I'm not gonna tell you about, because most of it is a real bummer, and we also... kinda just met.
[ There's a hint of apology in those last words, but realism as well. All of this stuff is very personal, it's about his family, it's about his past and his powers. It's heavy shit, and he's sure Peter isn't ready to hear it just as much as he isn't ready to say it. Just that little crack in the door, of admitting that things were Bad, is as much opening up as he's willing to do for now. ]
Twelve's a good size for a team.
[ Not big enough to be totally unwieldy, but plenty of people in case anyone got injured or captured or encountered a situation where their powers were hampered. You could do two groups of six, three groups of four... twelve has got options.
Ben's smile fades when Peter says he was recruited when he was fifteen. For some reason, Ben had been imagining him showing up, asking to be let onto the team. Maybe even having try-outs or to prove himself. Recruited is worrying. At least Peter seems to get that. ]
I'm glad it isn't. 'Cause it sounds creepy as hell.
[ He's going to skip past the part where he doesn't know what Youtube is. Maybe that's what they call the nightly news in Peter's world. Probably it is that. ]
Did you... I mean, was it the sort of situation where you really could've said no to joining, if you'd wanted to?
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[Peter smiles and gives Ben a little shrug. He totally gets it, man. There's a lot of real heavy shit that he's not ready to share yet, things that he hasn't even told his best friends. Sometimes you just gotta keep shit close.
And technically the footage of him on Youtube had been something of a try-out? Kind of? It's complicated.]
Oh, yeah, totally. I actually did turn him down at first. There was this whole thing with this guy who was trying to steal dangerous like, tech and weapons and stuff from the Avengers, and like, I stopped him on my own, right? So after that Stark comes up to me all "hey, ready to make this Avengers thing official"? But... I mean, it was kind of a lot. I was still only fifteen, and there was school to worry about? So I was like "nah, y'know, I'm not ready just yet", and that was it. I joined later. Technically. There was this thing with aliens.
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