MISSION: GRAB THE EYEBALLTAUR

[initiates]

Date & Time: March 7th, 1994
Location: The MICA campus: Baltimore, Maryland, USA.
Characters: Everyone
Summary: All transports are shipped back to 1994 to steal art from art students. Also, some of them arrive bodyswapped.

The Initiative has timed the incoming waves of Transports to the MICA campus for Freshmen Orientation, but even so, the flood of newcomers gets a few surprised glances. Looks like MICA's up for a major boom in attendance next year, wow. But do some of those freshman look a little old to you? …And do some of them seem to be freaking out a lot more than usual about being in Baltimore?

The cloaking devices, with holograms visible only to the natives, will be blending everyone in with the native 90s fashion senses, and all non-humans will find themselves getting much more tame curious glances than they might back on Exsilium, as they project a human appearance to natives around them. So at least there's that. Just try not to get arrested, hit by cars, or challenged to any break dance competitions as you grab and run off with bizarre works of art, alright? The weirder it looks, the more likely it probably is to be the power source the Initiative needs for the Transporter.

Oh, yeah, and sorry about the body-swap-around. Just deal with that as best you can, because the mission really must go on. Any harried and worried Initiative employee along on the mission that you might be able to find will just sputter a hasty not-really-explanative explanation and hurry away, trading frantic messages with the headquarters in Exsilium. They'll get this all sorted out by the time you get back, don't worry.

Comments

[controlledvariable]

[She exhales sharply, because, yes, she knows it's going to end up being a hell of a fight. The yell might be an exaggeration, but she doesn't think being gentle about it is going to work in this situation, so she's planning to be a little firmer about the whole thing. She needs to make Ellie realize that her treatment of Fi isn't okay.]

No, I'm just-- [Does she really need to explain herself? Maybe.] If I don't do something she's never going to stop tearing her friend down.

[Like Cass and Tim used to do to her.

Which might be why the situation frustrates her so much.]

[implying]

[ He considers it, then nods. ]

I rather wish someone had yelled at me for that, when I was younger.

[ He remembers what probably qualify as a few attempts at it, but they'd been laughed off. ]

It's good of you to care enough to do it.

[controlledvariable]

[She shrugs, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about the whole thing. Having friends is complicated.]

I think I'm just a masochist. [Another smile, this one a bit more of a grin, something of an invitation for him make a comment on that.]

[implying]

[ That's a cue if he's ever seen one, and one he's happy to take. ]

There are people who can help with that, my dear. I'm a qualified specialist, myself!

[ okay that's a lie he could never get into real sadomasochism, but it's an amusing lie. ]

[controlledvariable]

[You never let her down, Vanadi]

I'm not sure if that's an offer to help fix it, or to help indulge it.

[Not that she's - even remotely a masochist, either. She probably couldn't even try without having a panic attack.]

[implying]

A truly skilled man — ie, myself — could make it both. [ He grins for a second, before adding: ] Please do feel free to imagine a wink here.

[ okay so maybe there's one or two downsides to this totally rockin mask ]

[controlledvariable]

I don't doubt that for a second. [Flirting, still, but if anyone could manage it, he probably could.

And she smiles, but also tilts her head in something like questioning.] You could always take off the mask [Lightly, because she has a feeling that's unlikely, and doesn't want to push the topic. Which is why she adds:] But you don't need to worry, I imagine you winking after almost everything you say.

[implying]

[ He... could, that's true. It's really a silly habit, which he fully recognizes, but not a necessary one. Why, with Marduk, he even allowed their first face-to-face interaction to forgo the mask entirely. (But then again, Steph only knows him as he was, and he would hate to spoil that illusion...)

The sigh is internal, the smile is all that makes it out. ]

Excellent, then we're halfway there! [ He lifts both hands, one finding the beak of the mask and the other the latch at the back of his head. ] But here, allow me to provide a visual, just so we're entirely clear on it.

[ He lifts the nose up without actually removing the entire thing, just far enough to show off a perfectly schooled, calm smile, the scar, the shaggy silvered hair, and a wink. ]

[controlledvariable]

[Ah. The scar is basically what she expected, so there's no trace of surprise in her expression, she simply smiles, warm and a little pleased, that he likes - trusts? - her enough to let her see his face.]

There you are. [It's playful, but there's something genuine in her tone as well. She might be used to masks, but she doesn't think he needs to hide.] You look much nicer without it, you know. [That's definietly more genuine, a little more serious. She could have been subtle about it, maybe, but she just wants him to know that.]

[implying]

[ He lowers it again, snapping it back into place with a metallic click. Entirely unnecessary now, but — well, that first and bizarrely nerve wracking step is done, which means some other day he'll take it off more permanently around her. When they're not in a room that doesn't guarantee privacy, at least. ]

Perhaps that's the point of it, hmm? A pretty face like this can't just be shown about at any old time!

[ 'Thank you' would probably be the right answer, but the jokes are force of habit. ]

[controlledvariable]

Oh, of course. [She'll let him have the jokes, because she gets why they're necessary sometimes] I know I wouldn't be able to spend as much time with you, I'd get too distracted.

[And then she regards him carefully for a moment, clearly weighing something up, before she slips off the table, leaning against it instead as she makes a 'come here' gesture.] Lose a glove.

[This is potentially a terible idea but she-- It's not that she feels like she owes him, but she wants to show him she understands, and that the scar doesn't matter to her.]

[implying]

[ He's never been able to disobey a 'come here' gesture made by a pretty girl, and now seems a terrible time to start. So he steps forward willingly, although both hands stay at his sides. ]

For what? Don't tell me you've a cold hand, my dear. There are far more practical ways of dealing with that!

[controlledvariable]

I want to show you something.

[She fixes him with a bit of a look, telling him to just do what she said. She could just actually show him, but she still feels a little hesitant about it, and lifting up her shirt to show him her own scars isn't how she wants to do this. Not when they're in a relatively public place.]

[implying]

[ Well, there's little arguing with a look like that. His right glove slips off into his left hand. There's faint scarring creeping down from beneath the sleeve there, but at least it's a better sight than his left hand, which stays firmly gloved. ]

And I need a naked hand for it, do I?

[controlledvariable]

Do you usually make so much of a fuss when girls are asking you to take clothes off?

[She manages to keep a fairly teasing tone, but there's something a little shaky in her voice, and without much preamble she wraps her fingers around his wrist, gently guiding his hand to her hip, then to the bare skin of her stomach. There's no mistaking the fact her skin is - almost entirely scar tissue, something twisted and painful underneath her clothes.

She isn't looking at him. Maybe it's ridiculous to be nervous about something like this when he seems to have it worse, but it's a mindset she can't set aside easily.]

[implying]

[ He'd had a response, but it goes forgotten when his hand meets her skin. The last remains of his light tone and smile fall away, and he raises the left hand as well to rest lightly against her hip. His right hand moves slowly, experimentally, taking over from her guidance, but not wandering far.

He doesn't need to see anything, he knows exactly what he's feeling. ]

May I... ask?

[controlledvariable]

[She swallows hard around the lump in her throat, ignoring the fact that it's been a while since anyone's touched her so intimately. Mostly thanks to those scars, but she doesn't stop him, even if her point's been made, her fingers still curled loosely around his wrist.

Her lips twitch in a weak attempt at a smile.]

It's amazing what someone can do with a powerdrill.

[She's not sure how she manages to sound so flippant.]

[implying]

[ There's a little skip in his breath to hear that, and his hand pauses. It wasn't the work of anyone here, he knows that, it's too old for as long as she's been here. Horrors of home, then. ]

Steph...

[ Not a very productive or insightful comment, but it's about all that can make it through the wilting horror. His hand shifts to rest open-palmed against her lower back, atop her shirt, suddenly protective. ]

[controlledvariable]

It's fine.

[She lets go of his wrist, sliding her hand up to his shoulder instead, even if she should probably tell him to back off. Ellie knows about the gang war, about the people that died, but she skipped over this detail in the story.]

I'm not looking for sympathy, I just want you to know that I get it.

[Sometimes it occurs to her that she only ever gives away little pieces of herself. Ellie knows about Batgirl, she told Nikolai about her daughter, and Vanadi has this.]

[implying]

[ He nods, even as gratitude floods in to mix with unavoidable sympathy. ]

Thank you, then.

[ And one more thing makes him feel frankly ridiculous for clinging to the mask. Still, though — not here, in what is technically public. He leans in, mask tipping as he brushes a kiss against her cheek, and there's a small smile in place when he leans back again. ]

To be fully honest, I think I would much rather find coffee than continue to admire poor examples of human art. Would you like to come with me?

[controlledvariable]

You don't have to thank me.

[She tenses, briefly and almost imperceptibly, as he leans in, but relaxes when he just kisses her cheek. And despite still feeling a little shaky, she manages to return the smile.]

Coffee sounds great. [Her tone is a little more relieved than it probably should, because not talking about this anymore also sounds great; she doesn't regret telling him, but that still doesn't make it easy.] I still don't get why they thought it was necessary to send all of us here, just to steal some art.

[implying]

Well, you must admit, it's really quite a lot of art to paw through.

[ The move is slow and reluctant, but he does pull away from her, and tugs the glove back into place.

And, with an elbow out to her: ] Shall we?

[controlledvariable]

Which is why they should've sent someone who knows what they're doing.

[She's not exactly the most tactical of Bats, but she can think of at least a dozen better ways to run this mission.

When he moves away, she spends a moment fussing with her clothes, a hint of awkwardness in her posture as she tugs the hem of her shirt back into place. There's no real reason for her to feel awkward, but sometimes logic doesn't work.

Still, she takes his arm when it's offered, happy to let him l] I wish it was Fall, I'd introduce you to spiced pumpkin lattes.

[Steph has a soft spot for horribly sugary, seasonal coffes. No one is surprised.]

[implying]

[ Oh yeah, he knows the sight of that fussing. It's terribly familiar. But it gets no comment, and he only starts forward once her arm is in his. ]

Never you fear, I spent some time in the Fall in New York City, once! Spiced pumpkin latte sounds distinctly familiar.

[controlledvariable]

You got to go to New York? [If she sounds jealous and a little wistful, it's only because, well, New York is a stone's throw from Gotham, even if most worlds don't actually have a Gotham City.

Less seriously:] Maybe one of the coffee shops will have some leftover flavour syrup from Christmas, that'd be a much better thing to steal.

[Steph you just can't rob a Starbucks because you have sugar problems.]