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Tumbler -
Later on the day they arrive back in Bay City, 86 gets a message from Tumbler to head out outwards the dock yards. She is given good enough directions to get there easily enough, where Tumbler is standing outside of a slightly crumbling warehouse that seems to have been converted into low rent apartments. A line of cars is parked outside and there's a freight elevator that goes up to different floors.
"I have a few choices for living situations, but I think this would work for you best to accommodate your size," She says. The thief has changed into a knee length pleated skirt, a white blouse and windbreaker jacket tied at her waist with sneakers. She gestures for 86 to enter the lift.
"So you know," She says to the outsider, "Humans know aliens are around. Not so much as big and fuzzy as you though. Considering the number of powered folks on the planet, the common folk will see you as a curiosity at least on the street, maybe more once you end up on Derby's Insta," She tells her. "Here we are."
The apartment is vast, spacious, and has a bunch of packed up luggage by the sliding door. The wooden beams and flooring smell like sawdust, light filtering through the shuttered blinds. "What do you think?"
086-732 —
It's amazing that 86 isn't swept up in the wanderlust that comes with being on a planet for the first time, and allowed to explore it at one's leisure even more so. But there was something akin to agoraphobia taking up residence in her chest at the sheer space avaliable. That terrifying open sky that noone thinks about, and the fact that it's just one slight alteration of the local gravity field to send the entire populace flinging out into the void.
She hurried into the elevator finding comfort in the not quite tiny metal box. "Temporary living quarters, you once again have my thanks Waitress." There is a pause as she examines Tumbler's choice of attire. But doesn't say anything during the ride, letting Tumbler explain the whole alien situation on the ride. "Your kind see many wanderers from beyond your planet the? That is good to know, as it means you are unlikely to just attack on sight. Better odds for the rest of my pack to be safe. You have altered your attire again, this is... for comfort or to blend in with your peers and be less of a target?"
When shown the room she looks confused about the material it is made of and drags both sets of digits across the various surfaces. "It is... strange. What manner of metal is this?"
Tumbler -
"Fashion is a choice of personal comfort and preference. I collect uniforms for schools as a hobby and wear them for fun," Tumbler says, looking over her nails on one hand, the other arm wrapped in a thin sock to not expose the ugly scars.
"That's wood you're scratching. Careful, it's the original milled wood from when this place was constructed sixty years ago. Try not to scratch it too much or you'll lose my security deposit," Tumbler tells her.
She walks over to the blinds, opening them and flooding the room with evening light from the setting sun. Dust in the air wafted like dancers in the beams of sunny radiance. "Anyways, there's some things that I do need from you in exchange for this place to stay. If it's to your liking."
086-732 —
"Wood? She squinted at the light coming from the window and tentatively moved to look out. Even if there was still the outside and all that vast space, it felt more manageable from in here.
"You want to make a deal then? I have very little to offer as of right now. This area also seems to be lacking a proper work station. But I will hear what you have to say." Her gaze shifted back to Tumbler as one studying a target closely might.
Tumbler -
"First, I'd like to understand the full extent of your training. What have you been taught to do?" Tumbler asks. "Knowing that will let me put together a work station for that, if perhaps more crude than you're used to having."
086-732 —
"I of course have combat training, as my ships artificer I work on the equipment, manufacture gear on the field as necessary, and make repairs." She shifted and looked to Tumbler, "You hope to utilize my skills... to what end? I don't intend to make equipment for you terrans, as I said before we don't deal in altering the technological ascendancy of various stars."
Tumbler -
"I don't want you to make anything for me. I want a particular monster gone from this world," Tumbler tells her, keeping a stony face. "Spinneret ruined me. You will remember her from the chase from the museum. She's a vicious, sociopathic monster who has killed countless people and will continue to do so. I don't have the skills needed to take her out for good. But a soldier with advanced weapons will have a far better chance of ending her threat once and for all."
086-732 —
86 pondered the thought for several moments taking a walk around the room and checking for other spaces as she did so. Eventually shook her head and the majority of her upper torso causing her ears to flop, much like a dog trying to shake itself dry.
"I believe I recall the one you speak of. Attacked us during our escape alongside those calcium based monsters. I may be able to help. I have questions for you however and require a more sophisticated place to work, this wood material seems too flimsy to handle the stress of my needs."
Moving towards the center of the room she motioned to an empty spot on the floor across from her. "Sit."
Tumbler -
"I prefer to stay on my feet. It's good solid wood, but you never know when a splinter might stab you without proper maintenance," Tumbler tells 86 as she trots around her in the center of the apartment.
"If you need more sophisticated equipment, I can get that for you easily. Draft me a list and I'll pull some strings and make sure you have what you need. This apartment is perfect for that, away from any potentially prying eyes so you can work in peace." She shrugs, before looking down at 86. "But if it's not to your liking I can find somewhere more comfortable for you."
086-732 —
86 shook her head again, "You misunderstand my request for you to sit. I will compile a list, but you may not be able to get everything, and this environment seems flammable." She corrected the train of thought from before.
"I have questions about this Spinneret and yourself. Are you aware that you suffered major mental and physical duress before we escaped in your vehicle? Enough that you lost consciousness?"
Tumbler -
"Why do you think I'm asking you to do this for me instead of accomplishing it on my own?" Tumbler retorts. "She's a monster that cost me my hand. I want her gone, and the method for ridding the city - for ridding the world of her, I could care less. Now, the Bay Watchmen still have our hands full on the Curator. I can't ask the normal contacts I have because quite frankly the only ones capable of dealing with her are possibly worse, and anyone else would just be sent to their deaths. But you are an X-factor, one that might be able to do this for me."
She crosses her arms and stands in front of 86. "You don't have to answer right now. I can send you the details on the target to review, including her estimated body count. If you think it's not your problem or duty to deal with that, I'll work something else out."
086-732 —
The Treznak warrior grumbled in her throat. She couldn't make that kind of call on her own. Sure Spineret had threatened her life and as such she had every right to demand retribution. But this was still an alien planet with their own rules, and there were plenty of regulations that she had to follow. However this also meant that she'd be justified in protecting herself however she saw fit should such an enemy attack her again.
After a long time of contemplation she spoke, "I cannot give you the answer you want now. Without consultation with my Pack leader, it could result in an incident with your local peacekeeping force. However if I were to kill her in self-defense I am sure none would bat an eye." She placed a heavy large hand on Tumbler's shoulder. "I do not know of Human psychology but your extreme reaction to this Spinneret's presence is likely unhealthy and will become something you must surpass in your own personal trial of strength."
Letting out a huff she relaxed slightly, "I also wished to ask you about your title within the pack of Wendy-red. She called you Waitress. The word means a female who serves sustenance. You have not done that, so why would that be your designation within the pack?"
Tumbler -
"...Understood," Tumbler says, nodding as she takes a seat. "And excuse me for saying here, but as psychology isn't in your skill set I don't think you have any right to make judgments on my behavior," She tells her, steel in her voice.
"And you need to get with the program - well, I suppose too many idioms will go over your head. Those were just code names for that mission. I'm sure that makes sense to a military brat like yourself," She chuckles. "Guess it takes one to know one."
086-732 —
"It may not be in my skill set, but I am still able to assess situations and speak with you as necessary. I also do not pretend to understand Terran phycology, so please do not believe I mean to tell you what you must do. But confiding in a fellow pack member may assuage your woes." She tries to keep her voice as soft as possible given the translator and also the natural growl that her voice had.
"I ask for your forgiveness to your strange naming conventions, but the phrase military brat is... unfitting for me I think? My people hold great value in names, they are not only your designation within a group but also an honor within society. You may have noticed I call my pack leader by his name Tyr Gal, and I by my own, Zero Eight Six Dash Seven Three Two." She says the entirety of her name no abbreviations but by her tone she is very convicted on the fullness of it.
"Unlike Terrans who seem to take on any title that they wish based on the limited knowledge I've been able to gather during my interactions with your group and small delve into your network of information. Treznak can only ever have two proper names. The designation assigned to them at birth and an earned name, positions such as artificer, pilot, warrior, pack leader, or War leader are not the same as names however. " Removing her hand from Tumbler's shoulder she steps back to give the diminutive human room once again, fearing that her close proximity for a long period might set off some ancient prey reflex. "Pack leader Tyr Gal was born and as such was more likely to assume a role of command or leadership in our home. I was tank bred, specifically made for combat, and trained in a role that would best suit my genetic and mental inclinations." She lets that hang and paused in the case that Tumbler had anything to add or ask.
Tumbler -
"Ah, got it, you're like a clone trooper - trained but made to be a soldier. So you're kind of a slave," She says. "You've probably never made a choice or decision for yourself before that wasn't following someone else's direction. Like your Tyr Gal."
Tumbler looks thoughtful. "I don't suppose you remember what had happened to you before Derby found you in the museum, do you?"
086-732 —
86's ears and head cocked in a sign of confusion that managed to cross the species barrier. "My duty aboard the vessel requires significant free will and the ability to think for oneself. I am no slave, I am loyal to my people, crew, and pack leader. But far from a mindless puppet. I can deny an order just the same as any other member of my species."
She motioned to herself, and her armaments, "I am my own person just the same as yourself." her arms sweep towards Tumbler. "Do you suspect foul play due to the circumstance of my birth?"
Tumbler -
"Oh, no, I get it. My dad was a good Marine, a good soldier, never betrayed his country, always upheld his oaths - they make you swear oaths you can choose to deny?" She inquires briefly before continuing. "A soldier is absolutely their own person. Some are better people than others. Some are better at hiding their flaws to their comrades-in-arms than the rest, too," She says bitterly.
"But we're digressing here. What do you remember most recently before waking up in the museum?"
086-732 —
She soaked in what Tumbler was saying and affirmed, "Yes, though when it was in terms of cycles I am unaware. Our ship was passing by one of your neighboring stars. Mars, after having detected signs of the plague. As is our duty to the galaxy we moved to scourge it from the void. The battle was hard on our vessel which was not prepared for a fight as difficult as was put up. But we could not threaten letting it fall upon your home star."
She sighed and folded her grasping arms, "Especially a star hosting sentient life. Our vessel was heavily damaged during the conflict and while I could patch it we were not equipped to able to repair the main systems without access to raw materials. We traveled here in hopes to request materials and inform you of the threat looming in your system. Then we would call our fleet, to ensure the system was purged clean of the plague and be on our way once again." There was a pause as she let that sink in "However there was an issue during our entry beyond your satellite a hull breach and we were ordered to our cryopods incase of an emergency."
She grows dour again as she often does when recalling this part of the story and what the implication is. "Obviously something must have gone wrong since my pod was jettisoned and separated from the rest of my pack. That is why I have set Wendy-Red's system to search for the remains of my ship and pack. Dire consequences may come to your star if I cannot. The war queen does not take chances when it comes to infection, and the loss of our vessel may suggest that we were lost to plague mutants."
Tumbler -
Tumbler listens, picking up some details. She responds after 86 is finished. "So these cryopods suspend your body so you don't age? How long can a person spend in one?" She asks.
086-732 —
86 grumbles unsure of why Tumbler is pressing towards that line of questions. "Untested on your kind. What need would you have of such things anyway."
Tumbler -
"None, but do you have a frame of reference for how long you were in cryo for?" Tumbler asks with concern.
086-732 —
Shr thinks for a moment and then glances down at her wrist scanner tapping away at the darkened screen which unless Tumbler can see into the infrared spectrum appears completely blank.
After a few moments she furrows her brow, "It seems at least twenty four and a half waking cycles." While she has no frame to really judge it to her own time system, Tumbler can surmise that it doesn't sound like a short time.
Tumbler -
"Okay, let's do some time conversions here so I got some understanding. We measure time in seconds here first, the time it take for a hand on this watch to tick," Tumbler says as she helps 86 through the math and figuring out exactly how many hours a waking cycle for 86's kind would be.
086-732 —
"Hmmm, the nearest equivalent to that would be micro cycles, then we count up short cycles of which there are twenty eight, which makes up a full cycle. Fourteen to sixteen short cycles make up the average waking cycle, and a long cycle contains roughly four hundred and twenty three cycles." She works through the math with Tumbler for a painstaking amount of time, it seems there isn't a very good equivalent to seconds for the Treznak people, likely something that was phased out by necessity when traveling the vastness of space. "It seems by my rough calculations a waking cycle would be sixteen to eighteen and a half ticks on your large dial here." She taps the watch delicately with a grasping hand indicating the hours hand. "If I was down for twenty four and a half cycles that would be equivalent to hmm... how many seconds are in one of your cycles?"
(sorry if the terminology gets jumbled, Long cycle[year] cycle[day] short cycle[hour] micro cycle[minutes]. Due to the time dilation of space and mostly the lack of an actual planetary rotation and thus seasons they sort of phased out months and seconds as unnecessary and too unreliable to track in sync respectively. Since the word cycle exists in the human lexicon the translator doesn't really swap it to hours and such such are the limits of technology.)
"About twenty eight of your cycles."
Tumbler -
"So about four weeks. Okay, if that's the case it's unlikely you've come out of stasis hundreds of years after your pack wrote you off as dead. Just covering bases here," She points out. "So you have no means of communicating with them in that case, despite it only having been a relatively short period of time?"
086-732 —
86 thinks for a bit. "We didn't anticipate being separated. So we do not have any long range communications devices. I could fashion something given materials, I also have the computer and the tiny automaton searching for their signatures."
Tumbler -
"So there's no long range trackers on your cryo pods for you or the rest of your people to find?" Tumbler asks. "I mean, I'd think that if your people really wanted to track you down they would have put something like that on the pods to make sure they could find you when your ship became scuttled."
086-732 —
"Cryo pods do not have them no, escape pods would. The situation was not so dire to warrant escape pods. But we can not change the past." She looks to Tumbler, "The matter of finding them should be resolved soon if Wendy-red's belief in your planets computing power is to be believed."
Narrowing all four of her eyes at Tumbler she wondered about the interest that she had taken in her people and story before the cryo pod. But given what she had made about Tumbler's mental state before questions were bound to happen.
"You made mention of military brat and taking one to know one earlier. What exactly do you mean, do you mean that you were part of your military?"
Tumbler -
"F!%$ no," Tumbler says in response to the question, tucking her arms together. "My father was a Marine. Met my mom when he was stationed in the Philippines," she clarifies. "You're a military brat if you're born to a military family. Bouncing around from station to station was rough."
086-732 —
86 was unsure of what reproduction had to do with anything but figured it must be some kind of Terran idiom. "I understand now so you yourself were not a part of your species military, but your genetic donors were. Seeing as your people are not constantly at war I assume this affected you little?"
Tumbler -
"So, couple things. 'Genetic donors' are the people that raise you from a baby, or at least are supposed to do so. And being a child dependent on two people who are supposed to be there for you carries its own baggage. It's an outlier for there to be anything other than unconditional love for your child as I understand it."
Tumbler sighs and turns to the window. "Anyways, seems like you're getting everything you need from Wendy concerning finding your pack and getting your tools. I have nothing to offer you then. Sorry for wasting your time."
086-732 —
Watching as Tumbler went to the window again and looked a bit downtrodden. Especially about her donor situation the proverbial gears click in her head and she decides to test some of the light study she's been able to perform on Humans in her short time with access to their information network. She pads over silently for someone so large and wraps both her grasping and ambulatory limbs around Tumbler in an almost suffocating display of a hug, being more like a bearskin rug draped over the smaller woman. Unsure if she should say anything since her research had shown that these were moments of bonding and support between two or more individuals, the articles didn't offer any information on any further requirements for the ritual.
Tumbler -
"You have fully misread the situation here," Tumbler says to 86 as they drape on her. She does not look pleased or comforted by 86's attempts. If anything, she looks insulted. She pushes against the larger alien girl, even though it's unlikely she's strong enough to shove her out of the way.
"Don't do that again." Tumbler directs 86, looking up at her. "You don't ever touch anyone without asking their permission. Don't you ever forget that."
086-732 —
Seeing that Tumbler was uncomfortable or at least struggling to remove herself from her bulk she removed herself. "I am sorry, I was attempting to perform a hug. Since you seemed troubled by your inability to help the situation. I was unaware that there were other protocols to the ceremony. I will not do so again."
With that rather dry explanation out if the way she continued, "Wendy-red only gave me access to your system the search I have set in motion myself. That is not to say there is nothing you can offer me. Depending on the state of our vessel, it will take a significant amount of time to repair, and we will likely need to barter with your resource gatherers. As such it would do well to learn more about your forms of communication and etiquette." She didn't have the same body language as Tumbler but there was a sort of regret in the way she stood after the attempted show of support.
Tumbler -
"Look, nothing against you. It's just that unless I'm in a mountain ski lodge with snow piled around, I don't want to be buried in fur," Tumbler tells her. "Again though, if you want something, it's got to be a trade. I don't work for free and I don't expect things done for me for free. So, what do you want?"
086-732 —
She had thought her request was rather obvious but if it warranted repetition then so be it. "Assist me in learning the mannerisms of your people, the acceptable actions. Like just now when I attempted your hugging, and it was incorrect. It would do me and mine well to have at least one expert in the local ways to bridge our dichotomy until we are able to leave this place."
Tumbler -
"This is not something that you really need my expertise in. It's all about observing people - which, again, would be much easier if you were able to disguise yourself as human. Look at how people interact with each other in public, in more private settings, and don't do things that you aren't 100% sure are correct," Tumbler tells her. "Just remember, when in doubt, don't do it."
086-732 —
"So, you ask me to tell you what I want, and then you cannot give it? I do not have the time to learn it the 'natural' way, just the same if I did our psychological profiles between species are so different that there are no doubt going to be differences and nuance that I won't understand without proper training. For example the action of hugging." She mentions in a matter of fact way. "We are both lucky that you are not an aggressive member of your species, in such that were you to retaliate instead of explaining to me, then it would not have ended well for either of us. You physically and me on a reputation scale with your people."
86 moves away, "But if you still believe I should make another request in this trade..." She paused obviously thinking about what someone might be able to offer her on this planet. Especially someone that is above the lower caste based on what she was told about before.
Tumbler -
"I could introduce you to people," Tumbler suggests. "Derby works the light side of powered people. I have more connections in the underworld. Plenty who deal with alien tech, some who are aliens themselves who might know more about what happened with your pack."
086-732 —
"Hmmm. If my initial search results in nothing then perhaps that will be my request." There is another pause before she turns to face Tumbler again. "For the time being to refrain from making further mistakes. Tell me of your name and the others in your pack. Not the names you used falsely such as Waitress and Ace, and their significance."
West Coast Masks - The Bay Watchmen!
Issue #7 - The Wayward Pack!
It has been several days since your return to Earth. After dealing with various personal matters, the Darling Derby has gathered the team at their base of operations beneath the coffee shop. This includes Crimson Tide, who has been out of the loop for a while.
The supercomputer is finishing up it's final sweep of the surrounding regions for signs of 86's missing packmates and vessel. The results will be announced soon...
"...So you just brought an entire alien home with you?" Megan asks, her precise expression hidden behind an eyepatch and a big fake beard.
"That's fantastic! I was worried going teen-hero'd mean I'd be demoted to street level forever, but getting an alien -and not a cute sidekick, but a big ball of fur and claws- is exactly what we need to go big league!"
Wesley has been watching the computer closely, grateful that it could do the job. He turns to Megan at her comment. "We found 86 with the Curator's vault."
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86 had spent her time, when not at the computer at her pad provided by Tumbler revising the home space so that it could house a makeshift workshop for her. There was at least one instance of it almost catching fire, but the Treznak artificer caught it and made necessary precautions and adjustments. In the short time since then she had gladly torn apart the Askaran weapon she had brought back stripping it into useful parts and base components to fuel her wondrous tech.
She still carried herself with a regal grace even unarmored, her mane and presumably whole body having been washed, that poor drainage system, and manicured back into a flat boring style of combed back, utterly military with no idiosyncratic markings from anyone else by your imagination.
The team had not known before that she was female, and they would still be unsure, given the lack of visible breast or any other external factors that could be witnessed in her species.
She even had a corner of disposed remains of meat packages already piled high, having need of about a dozen pounds of the stuff a day. While the plastics could be cleaned and reused with a simple processor the styrofoam would require a separate machine. The various T-bones and vertebrae bones only left little to the imagination as to her eating habits. One might wonder just how she managed to Pay for all of these meals or the sudden hike in power requirements for that matter.
Now she stood hackles raised in anticipation thinking that she could will the machine to complete it's scan faster. Her armor gleaming and clean after their escapades on Askara.
A new face joining the group, Megan or Crimson Tide which had lead to a few rather unfortunate searches in the Human network when she had tried to understand the importance of the name. Was certainly an excitable personality were new humans always this upbeat?
"I am no lost Rakari, flash birthed to teach young ones how to properly track and kill if that is your concern with my presence. Though I would agree I have increased the size of your group, for a time, so you are in fact a slightly bigger league it seems." She growled flatly clearly misunderstanding the idiom behind the phrase Megan was using. But the human clearly another female of the species caught the alien sizing her up. There is a wrinkling of the nose, flair of the nostrils, followed by a long inhale relaxation, and then a long pause before she turns her attention back to the screen impatiently.
Wendy is relaxed as the results are just about in. ”This is like a watched pot for you, 86. But once you know how long it takes for Information Soup to boil, you face that the process can’t be rushed.
“Kicking the computer makes it work faster though.”
Realizing 86 takes things literally, she says, ”FORGET I SAID THAT! KICKING BREAKS STUFF! That’s uh… a reference to an anime—dumb joke. Just.. don’t kick anything.”
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Letting Derby have her tiny worry after a strange analogy, 86 looked to Wendy-Derby, and tilted a manipulating paw-hand up, "You speak of Mavakusha's conundrum. It is a widely accepted concept between artificers and technicians in my people. Illogical but it does have it's merits. Though not for increasing processing speed."
She then vehemently returned her gaze to the screen after being told to dismiss the reference.
Tumbler's more focused on trying to determine if Megan's fake beard and eyepatch are concealing a real injury with some actual hint of concern on her part for the tall shark girl. "Ugh, I kind of think that we already did the whole world saving thing when we foiled Spinneret's monster plan. But I suppose that going more global has its perks. Maybe we should make a trip to Halcyon, show those east coast debutante heroes what it means to to really work," She suggests.
She's in another school uniform, this one a boys' uniform with a nice blue blazer and blue and black striped tie. A patch on it for the crest for Halprep is visible. She also apparently has gotten a non-functional prosthetic for her right hand, covered in a white leather glove to conceal its artificial nature. It seems to be an aesthetic choice by the thief.
"...So, did you get into any big fights while we were gone?" She asks Megan.
Megan gives a big sigh. "No. I showed my face as Amazonia again just to see if I could keep that cover going, and apparently I'm a fantastic actor? 'S a surprise to me, but useful I guess? Does mean I didn't get in any good scraps though." Her gaze drifts over to 86 as she sized her up in return. "Basically just had a long weekend while I waited for Lil Ziss to get you all back."
Stretching out one of her powerful arms, she gave Carmen's gloved hand a quick tap. "How's the new hand treating you?"
"It's a placeholder. Doesn't even articulate. It's still frustrating that I don't have a solution that doesn't involve making me more visible," She grumbles. "I don't suppose they have some secret starfish regrowth serum for limbs in the sea kingdoms?"
"They do, but 's like 3:1 odds you get an evil clone out of the deal who chops it back off. 'S still better odds than most regen treatments I've seen."
Wendy turns to Carmen. ”Do you want a prosthetic that reacts to signals from your brain?”
Wesley just stays quiet while there's talk of going up against bigger foes like what they face in Halcyon, and starts to shift uncomfortably when the topic switches to Tumbler's prosthetic.
He's wearing his usual Arcanum cloak with his hood flipped up. He adjusts the hood a bit, letting it further shroud his face.
"What I want is my arm back to how it was before. And until it's proven fully impossible, I refuse to compromise," Tumbler tells Wendy. "Right now though that's a goal underneath dealing with Spinneret and the Curator. And I guess helping Fuzzbutt get back to their pack."
Wesley nearly convulses. What Carmen said was so close to a wish that he almost granted it right then and there. Guilt eats at him as he draws further away from the conversation. Better that they talk about wants and desires away from him.
Woozily, he retreats to the elevator leading up to the coffee shop. He has to restrain himself from pounding the button to summon the lift faster.
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Knowing about how well the last talk about her arm went 86 Glanced over to Carmen-Tumbler trying to gauge what she thought of the sudden topic shift to focus on her.
Her four piercing predatory eyes were significantly lacking the ability to show concern for her situation however and as such made it look like she was staring more than assessing.
"I do not understand why you continue to refer to me as this Fuzzbutt. A being covered in fur and a posterior? I have been quite clear in my designation."
Wendy shrugs. ”Sorry. Misread on my part. The glove, your question to Meg…”
She gets back to her computer. ”Forget I brought it up.”
Ziss is a bit late, arriving at the coffee shop and by the elevator as Wes is leaving. Finding it strange, she asks. "Hi Wes, did I miss de whole meeting?"
"Huh?" Wesley grunts in surprise at Ziss's sudden appearance. "Oh. Um... no, you didn't miss it. I'm just getting some air. I need to be... away from people right now. And their desires."
He maneuvers past Ziss and gets into the elevator. "Wendy's got the lamp. If you need me, have someone tap it. Don't rub it. I'll come running back."
He hits the "close" button.
"Why not rub it? Always meant to ask you." She says, genuinely curious.
Wes sighs, stopping the doors from closing. He lowers his voice. "I don't know how I know. But I just do. Whoever rubs the lamp... connects with me. It's not like ownership -- that's what the Curator has. He'll get me eventually if I'm not broken free, and rubbing the lamp won't change that. But, like, if you rubbed the lamp, I think I'd become... perfect for you. Like, your dream man. Or woman. Whatever you preferred. Your happiness would be my priority."
He smiles weakly. "That's why I've always told people to not rub the lamp."
"Wow... dat is... somefing else entirely. Do you know for how long de effect will last?" She asks, biting her lips, now doubly curious what she would see if she did rub the lamp.
He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. But I think... until someone else does? Or, you know, the end."
Wesley looks deadly serious. "I can trust you, right? I really don't know what it'd look like. I mean, can you imagine? Wendy?" He swallows uneasily.
Ziss hand slowly moves towards the "close door" button, but then she looks back at Wes and sighs. "Yes... good chances you'd be turn into nofing as well if I'm de one rubbing it anyway." She smiles, but it is a weak one.
Wes gives Ziss a sympathetic smile. "If things were different, Ziss, I'd be happy to have you rub the lamp."
Diego had been sullen and broiling with silent anger ever since Tumbler arrived.
But when Wesley explains why not to rub the lamp, there is a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a sneaky grin on his face…
"So..." Megan interjects, regretting even bringing up Carmen's prosthesis when so many 'fixers' like Derby were hovering, "How likely's the pack to be happy we find 'em, uh, 86?"
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"I will be glad to be reunited with my pack. They will... should not harm you, unless they have been actively antagonize by your people. Or succumb to the frenzy." She says finally turning from the blasted slow device with a downtrodden sigh. "It should go without warning that I will do the conversing?"
Finally, the supercomputer lets out a pleasing series of chimes. The holographic display shows a map of the Sierra Nevada mountain range, rotating around before zooming in on a particular peak. A flashing red beacon appears, and a text pop-up indicates that it has picked up on energy readings that seem to be coming from Treznak technology! There are also several biological readouts that seem to match those of 86. There is a 90% probability that the survivors of the Treznak ship's crash are located there!
It's a long distance to travel through rough terrain, but Wendy knows that she has been impressing her grandfather with her recent actions. The Capped Crusader may be willing to lend her his custom hovercraft, the Hatwing, to transport the team to the mountains!
”F+&# yes!” Wendy blurts, oblivious to all the goings-on just a few feet away from her. ”I just gotta call in a favor?
“Wes? We-esss? Where did that handsome boy g—?“
He might be taking a piss. Maybe don’t call so much attention to someone leaving the room for a couple minutes?
”Uh, don’t mind me. Lemme just step out a moment.”
She skates off, using her CapComm to call the Capped Crusader.
”Hey, Great-Grampy. You know I got my driver’s license now, right…?
“Well, it’s like this. I saved an Alien from my significant other’s arch nemesis and the alien’s people are in the Sierra Nevada, and might be in danger. There’s a lot of activity coming from Treznak Tech.
“These aren’t little green men. More like a buncha Chewbaccas. If you don’t object, I’d like to take 86 and my team in the Hatwing, assess the situation, and act accordingly.”
"I do not understand why you continue to refer to me as this Fuzzbutt. A being covered in fur and a posterior? I have been quite clear in my designation."
"And I've also been quite clear that I'm only going to refer to you as Fuzzbutt from now. I've even told Derby to introduce you to the world as such on her Insta," Tumbler claims as a rib, enjoying the bit.
She's also not making much eye contact with Diego at the moment, clearly showing they're still under tension with each other.
"So if it's chilly mountains, that means we've got to dress warm, right? I'll get my winter gear ready. Don't want to end up frostbitten." She comments on the reveal of the ship location.
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86 grunted her disapproval at Tumbler's name for her it was false and a play on her appearance. She didn't think she had much of a posterior personally, though in regards to humans she might be classified as curvy in a sparing few places. She shook the thought from her mind as the computer chirped and spat out a grid of numbers. Planetary coordinates by the look, though she had no way of knowing where or how to navigate to them seeing as she had never had training with Human grids.
She leaned close to the machine as it circled a specific area which she quickly pointed a clawed finger at as if noone else had seen it. "Here, where is this? Signs of my pack, we must move quickly." Getting both excited and fearful she spits out orders, forgetting that this was not her pack to lead as she turned to the others. Tumbler speaks of the cold and for a moment she has to consider that.
"I am not sure on your measure of heat differentials, but how bad are the conditions? My people are rather resilient to cold, and if enough of the ship survived i'm sure 086-729 would be able to fashion temporary shelter for the others." Her jaw clenches not wanting to speak her fear of 'if he was there and alive'.
"Says de man wif an extra pair of pants to de one wif no shirt." She answers, but then regrets it. "I'm sorry, dat wasn't fair to you." She leaves the elevator and sits on a chair of the coffee shop.
If things were different, Wendy would have kissed me the other night... if things were different, Wes would perhaps kiss me now... s&**ty luck that I'm twice late. Ziss startles, realizing something she had not anticipated. "How you do dat?" She asks him. "I should not tell you how, but you did show me somefing just now... I'm healing."
Wesley winces at the sharp rebuke, and is relieved Ziss walks it back. "I deserved that," he admits.
He lingers nearby in the coffee shop, but doesn't sit down with her. When she tells him she's healing, he offers her a smile. "I, uh, don't know. I'm glad. I'm really glad, and proud of you. I've been feeling more on the precipice lately, so I don't have time to play games. And it might be part of the genie thing, but I want to help. If there's something you want, I want to try and get it for you.
"Hearing that I already helped, well, it feels good.
Ziss smiles, happy for both of them. "It is somewhat romantic, dis lamp fing, right? Like if your soulmate rubs it, you should not change and not feel anyfing different, because you are already committed to make your significant oder happy."
"In teory, of course, if fairy tales were a fing." She adds, smiling.
"Yeah, but I'd rather it be my choice, rather than something that's done to me because of the lamp. That's what's so insidious about it. Like, if Wendy had ever rubbed the lamp without me knowing it... everything we've shared would be, like, a question. You know. Was it even real in the first place?" He shudders at the concept.
"So, anyway. Yeah. Fairy tales sound great, but their original stories were usually pretty dark."
Megan narrows her eyes in mild consternation. "If Fuzzbutt's talking about cold, I might need to go shopping. My winter-wear is pretty much just a top with sleeves."
As Wendy heads out the Southeast exit, she contemplates that tall, tall building.
”Ah, shhhhit.”
If Wes agrees to join her, Wendy will immediately tap the lamp.
Wes answers the ear-buddy.
"Hey. Sure, no problem. I'm here with Ziss. I'll let her know as well."
His voice comes back on after she taps the lamp. "Yeah? Everything all right?"
Wendy says, ”Everything’s extra fine! My great-grandfather’s gonna let me borrow…
“The Hatwing.”
She shows off her PILOT’S LICENSE.
”Do you have any idea how long I waited to turn sixteen so I could have THIS?
”A year and a half. I didn’t really think about flying until I was fourteen.”
Within a few minutes, a rumbling sound fills the air. A strange, chrome-plated vehicle swoops down out of the sky and hovers over the helipad before gently touching down. The craft vaguely resembles an oversized baseball cap, the bill facing backwards and containing the repulsor engines that keep it aloft.
A ramp extends from the underside and the Capped Crusader emerges, wheeling out with a grin on his face. "Wendy, darling, I trust you will take good care of her," he says. He looks to Wesley. "And I trust you will take good care of my granddaughter," he says with a knowing look.
Wesley clears his throat and nods. "Yes sir. I, um, I certainly will. Thanks for loaning this."
He gives Wendy's hand a squeeze, then walks around the craft to get a good look at it. When he finishes the circuit, he leans over to Wendy. "Do you want me inside, or flying along outside?"
Wendy gives her great-grandfather a hug. ”I will,” she says, kinda scared she’ll get shot down and survive and have to explain herself. But mostly, she’s confident there won’t be irreparable damage.
Trusting the Capped Crusader will phase through the building wheelchair and all, she takes Wes’ hand. ”C’mon in!”
She gradually starts to lift off.
”Oh, I know it’s not as cool as flying without powers… but this Hatwing is like WAY ahead of its time!”
"It's really neat," Wes agrees, looking over the crazy number of dials, gauges and controls in the cockpit. He gets dizzy just thinking about all the lessons and training it would take to understand it all. He gives Wendy's shoulder a squeeze and sits down in a chair out of her way. He buckles himself in and settles down for a flight.
As they fly, he reflects on a recent conversation.
After the swim with Wendy, Wesley was naturally feeling pretty good. Things were progressing with her... at a breakneck pace, if he was to be perfectly honest. But he may not have all that much time anyway so it sort of made sense.
While he tried to reflect on him and Wendy, he couldn't shake a feeling of irritation. Wesley quickly located its source -- Diego. His behavior on Askara had really pissed him off.
Maybe we should have a talk, Wes thinks, and pulls out his phone. "Hey. You free?" he texts.
There is a bit of lag in the reply. Eventually Wes receives: Yeah. Just checking my spots.
Thought we could hang out. Owe you a beer or two. Sound good?
Where?
Don't really care. We could go to that one place from before, or someplace new. U pick
S+~%, dude. I can get most anywhere way faster than you. What can you get to?
Wesley decides not to point out that he could probably W-word himself anywhere -- though that would be a stupid waste. He tries to think of some place around Bay City that Diego would most likely have visited. How about LJ's Bar and grill?
There is a delayed response.
Where you at? I already got us a table.
Showoff
Wesley arrives a little under ten minutes after receiving the text. He finds Diego and sits down at his table. "Their wings here are great," he starts the conversation off. After another moment, he asks, "Feel better being back on Terra Firma?"
Diego was actively licking sauce off his fingers and replies ”F&~& yeah. Next time y’all are going off world, leave me here.”
Wesley settles in his chair and looks at Diego with disappointment in his eyes. "Really? I get that it puts you out of your element, but seriously? If it's too hard, don't bother? Dude."
He shakes his head. ”You don’t get it. My power relies on having been there before to just teleport there. Took me a long ass time to get my spots set up. So, I go to a world I’ve never been to? Yeah, I’m basically stuck. Sure I can make me a energy blade and fight somewhat okay, but I’m still stuck. And I don’t like being stuck,” as he picks up another drummy.
Wesley takes the advantage of the waitress coming around to take his order to let some of the heat from his voice dissipate. "I get it. I told you I understood on Askara. But, you know you're more to the team than a g*#%$! taxi service, don't you? You're so quick to find reasons to not be a part of it. Why is that?"
Diego takes a drink of beer. ”Because every time I’ve tried to be closer to someone on this team, it’s either thrown in my face, or I’m judged for being an Ace, or…I’m used as a g~@@$#n taxi service. You and Derb’s and Ziss are the only ones who give me half the time of day, and even then, even Derb’s gives me the F$*~in’ side eye when I wear my Aces colors. So yeah…why bother with a huge effort?”
He points a drummy bone Wes’ way. ”My advice? You and Derbs go run off and be happy and make magic lesbo babies somehow. To Hell with the rest of it.”
Wesley eyes the bone and looks back up at Diego. His expression is serious. "As great as that sounds, you know why that can't happen, right? At least not yet? I'm on a ticking clock!"
He looks exasperated. "Everything's such a f!@%ing transaction with you. But you know what? Ask me for something. I promise there's no strings. I want to do something nice for you, because that's what friends do. Ask away. And you know I can give you just about anything you want."
Diego shrugs. ”See…that’s what you and the others don’t get, esse. Sure, I like money and nice things, things I never had a flying f*!! all of a chance of getting before my powers. But all I REALLY want? A little bit of f$@$in’ friendship. Instead, every time I’m around everyone just wants to use me for what I can do. Figured you would be the one of all of ‘em to get that, being the literal genie in the lamp and all that.”
He waves another chicken wing dismissively, ”But…I’ve been wrong before.”
Wesley sits back in his seat. He's a little unsure about where to go from here. Did we just have a breakthrough?
"Okay, then. Um... I'm glad you shared that. So... how can I be a better friend? 'Cause I don't want you to be wrong here."
”Shthop twyin ta fith me fer one,” he replies with a mouth full.
Wesley blinks. "Wait. Fix? You said 'fix'?" He shakes his head incredulously. "When have I tried to fix you?"
His annoyance with Diego intensifies. He pulls back. "What the f&@@, dude! You're talking like I'm some ex-girlfriend or something!"
”Did you not just try to convince me everything I do is a transaction? And to tell me I’m wrong when I’m basically the team taxi despite all evidence saying otherwise? Or, how did you say it, too hard don’t bother? Like I’ve never had it rough?” Diego retorts casually, seemingly nonplussed.
"No. I asked you why it always had to be a transaction. And how is pointing out that you're wrong about the whole taxi thing 'fixing' you?" He adds air quotes, then folds his arms. "I'm just trying to figure out where you stand. You've had one foot out the door since we teamed up, and it seems like you're looking for an excuse to bail for good."
Wesley leans forward and raps the table as his eyes flash blue. "I'm asking you. What's it going to take? What can we do to get you to commit? 'Cause I'm f$#+ing sick of it. I don't have the time to play this 'will he or won't he' game."
”Like I said,” Diego says before taking a long drink. ”A little actual friendship and respect. I’m a pretty simple f~*#ing dude,” he says as he sets the glass down less than gently.
Letting out a long sigh, Wesley slumps in his seat. "Okay. What does that look like? Where am I falling short?"
Diego looks at him strangely and said ”Who said you were? I mean, you are being kinda pushy about it right now, but when it comes to being an actual decent person to me on the team, it goes you, then Ziss, then everyone f*!+ing else,” using his hand as a marker indicating Wes at the top, Ziss a ways below him, and then the others at the bottom, which conveniently placed his hand by the wing plate again.
Wesley doesn't look especially proud that he's on the top of the friendship scale. "I don't know, dude. It looks more like a list of 'what have you done for me lately.' If that's how you see friendship, then I'm sorry."
”Wow. Harsh dude. You do realize you are the only one who has actively hung out with me. Ziss has sort of, but mostly for their own reasons.”
He drops the wing he was eating on his bone plate half eaten and finishes his beer in one go. ”Suddenly lost my appetite,” he adds as he looks for the waitress to signal her for the check.
"I've always thought that part of being friends is the ability to call it out when someone's being an asshat," Wes says quickly before Diego can teleport away. "Have you ever asked me to hang out? But here's the thing. I don't blame you for not doing that, since it would've been weird what with me being a hot girl every now and then. No wrong messages, right? So... if I can realize that and not hold it against you, maybe you can accept that the others are also going through their own s~#@? And maybe not hold that against them?"
When the waitress comes, Diego says ”Two snakebites, and a White Russian for me,” before turning back to Wes.
”Yeah, I don’t ask you to hang because you got Derbs. And like you said, 50/50 if you girl or not. Not that it matters, but when a man has a woman, I’ve learned it best to hang out on their terms, not to pressure them to hang on yours. You got s!*& you wanna talk about, then let it out dude,” he says as he takes the half eaten wing back in his hand.
Wesley looks away for a moment, then shrugs. "All right. This is kind of selfish, but I'll just say it. I don't want to be the only guy on the team. Especially with my... switching back and forth... issues. If you decide to ditch us for good, then it becomes... I don't know. Like, why bother switching back at all? I don't know if I'm making sense, but it feels like that would eventually happen if you left. 'Cause I think 86 might be female too."
He looks serious. "Are you going to stick with the team?"
Diego smirks and replies ”Having trouble grounding yourself, I take it?”
Wesley lowers his voice. "I think it has to do with... what I'm becoming. It's like, I need to serve. To follow orders and be what other people want me to be. Wendy's great because she wants me to be me, but... it's not just her who's affecting me."
He rubs his face, looking hopeless and scared. "I am so f##!ed."
”I mean, I’m sure Wendy would like making you ‘serve’ her!” he replies in jest, trying to lighten the mood in his usual, less than perfect manner.
”Take a breath, man. Relax. We just delivered a big hit to that f#@&er who is trying to trap you. Maybe we can force him to back off now. Either way, we will get you out of this.”
Wesley nods, as the grip of panic unclenches from around his heart. He grabs one of the snakebites when it arrives and takes a big drink while he tries to settle himself.
"Thanks," he musters, smiling weakly. He holds up the glass for a toast. "I appreciate it."
Diego clinks the glass before asking ”So, our waitress…wearing panties or not?” with a smirk.
Wesley blinks at the unexpected question. He honestly hadn't checked her out that closely. "Do you want my guess, or do you want me to find out for you?"
”Bet then answer…but I am curious how you’d prove it without creating a scene…” he smirks and gives her another look. ”Hundred bucks says she does.”
Wesley shakes his head. "Oh, I've got ways. But sorry. I'll be willing to pay you a hundred bucks just so I don't have to try to find out." He makes a gesture at himself. "Remember: rich white kid."
Armorer turns to regard Ziss, their expression hidden by their helmet. "I will tell you what I know, which isn't much. The customer is one I hadn't met before. He wore a hooded cloak that concealed his features in some sort of supernatural gloom that even my sensors couldn't pierce. His voice was hoarse and strained, but he sounded relatively young."
Ziss frowns, lost. "Hum... de supernatural gloom and de hoarse voice could mean dat creepy Haberdasher, but he should not be young, right? When you mean 'supernatural', it seams you are convinced it was not some technology... more like magic?"
"Have you noticed anyfing more, like an accent, or a symbol on his cloafing? Also, when did you meet wif dis client?" She adds. Thinking about the Curator now.
"Magic, or some other power," Armorer agrees. "There wasn't anything else about him that I could use to identify him. That type of person usually goes a long way towards not letting others know who they are. I should know." They point to themselves.
"He came to my shop about a week ago."
"But enough about him. I want to know more about you."
Ziss starts to think about the goal of the man that sent the Armorer to Askara. With their face covered, it was hard for Ziss to know if they were telling the truth, but assuming they were, they were sent there unwillingly. Did the stranger wanted the Armorer killed or out of his way? Or he somehow knew they were going to meet her and the team there? Or perhaps...
Her thoughts are cut short once the Armorer wants to know more about her. "What? Me? Why would you want to know more about me?"
"You look like somebody whom I lost a long time ago," Armorer says hesitantly.
"Really? Well, perhaps you met my moder den." She says, not seeing the need to hide this part of her life. She reaches out her pack and retrieves a pretty old photo that shows her, her mother and father, all behind her 5 years old birthday cake. "Is dis de person you lost?" She asks, pointing to her mother, but then she moves her finger to her father. "Or perhaps dis one? I fink I look much more like my moder, but my nose is definitely my fader's as are my dimples..."
"Yes. Your nose does look like your father's," Armorer replies. They take a deep breath as they reach up and disengage the seals on their helmet. Air hisses out from the seams as they remove the helmet--
--revealing the face of Ziss's father, Esras! He looks older, the lines on his face deeper, his cheeks sunken a bit. But there is no doubt that this is the man she has been looking for since coming to Earth...
Ziss's eyes go wide with the revelation, which causes her to be speechless for a moment. "Daddy?" She asks finally, her eyes now unable to contain her tears of joy. Without thinking twice, she flings herself at him, trying to hug him, even if the armor is on her way. Sobbing, she adds "I miss you so much... so much..."
Esras holds her gently, careful not to crush her in his armored embrace. "My little Ziss. You grew up so fast!"
"I did, didn't I?" She says saddened for a second, but then happy again with the reunion. "It was a mistake, but it doesn't matter now... Mom... she is gone, and I've come here looking for you, but I could not find you."
Esras frowns. "What has happened to her?"
"We were in Taris, a world of flying cities. I believe we were hiding dere... I don't remember too much, since I was 8 or 9." She says, frowning as she tries to remember. "Some people were chasing us. I fink dey were mercenaries. Dey cornered us, so mom hide me... I saw her falling off the city."
"Dat was de last time I've seen or heard of her. When I saw her falling, I panicked and travelled to anoder world." She adds, shivering from the memory of Dasko, the terrible world she was forced to live for 3 years before she could worldwalk again. "When I learned to travel to oder worlds on my own I looked for her, but no one has ever heard or seen her after dat day she fell."
"Jhira..." Esdras says sadly. "Ziss, I am so sorry that you had to go through all of that. That I couldn't be there for you. When your mother took you and left, I tried to go after you. I tried to find a way to travel between worlds as she did. But I was unable to replicate the ability."
Ziss nods and sobs for the hard memories, but the joy of finding her father overcomes all of this. "It doesn't matter, Daddy... you are here now, and we are together. I wish Mom had never left... we were so happy together..." She says hopeful, even if in fact she was too young to know if everything was indeed great between her parents. It probably wasn't of course.
She then looks at him again, remembering that he said his suit was keeping him alive...
"You're right. We have a lot of catching up to do," Esdras replies.
"Are you ok?" She asks.
He gives her a rueful smile. "My health has been...compromised. I have a congenital heart defect that would have been fatal to anybody else. This armor I invented compensates for the defect, but.... It's a stopgap solution at best."
Ziss eyes go wide at the prospect of losing her father again, just now that she had found him. "But... dere must be a cure somewhere... Taris and Razzara are more advanced dan Earf in technology, so perhaps dey have a solution dere." She says, hopeful and worried in equal amounts.
"Maybe. Now that you're here, those other worlds are open to us..."
Ziss hugs her father. "Yes... we'll find a cure for you, and if we can't in those worlds, we have many many others to look."
Esdras returns the hug.
Before she can change her mind, she sends a voice message to her. "Hi Nicole! I was in a place with no signal, so I've missed your calls."
It's a little while before a reply comes from Nicole. "Hey! All good! Just wanted to say I had fun at the gala the other night. And you still owe me a date for that video of the professor you asked me for."
"I also had a lot of fun, and I do intend on keeping my end of the deal so... Let me know when you decide on our date." She replies back.
"Are you free this Friday? There's a new speakeasy downtown I've been dying to check out!"
Ziss has absolutely no idea what a speakeasy is. Perhaps a place were it is easy for people to speak? That should be it, a quiet place where people go to share stories. "I'm free. What is the name of de place?"
"Enzo's Hideaway. I can pick you up, or I can meet you there at 9!"
"I'll meet you there." It would be much simpler for Ziss to tell Nicole to pick her up at Wendy's but she did not want Wendy meddling with this aspect of her life. Ziss had also sold to Nicole the idea that she was some sort of mysterious girl and she decided to continue doing so some more.
Ziss spent a good amount of time researching what a speakeasy was and then shopping for an appropriate dress. Even if she was already living on Earth for a couple months, she still had very little clothes since she usually only had things that she really needed or that she could easily carry to another world. She settles for a teal dress with black fringes, some heels to gain her a couple inches and simple jewelry. In sharp contrast to her simple attire, Ziss decides to use traditional Askaran makeup, which consists of very colorful eye makeup.
Ziss takes a cab, arriving at the place a couple minutes late, just to be sure Nicole was already there to guide her.
Ziss finds Nicole waiting for her outside of the speakeasy. She's dressed in a pink flapper's dress with a cap and long, fake cigarette between her fingers. She gasps as Ziss emerges from the cab, taking in her exotic look.
"Wow! I love your makeup! It's truly breathtaking!"
Ziss smiles as Nicole compliments her make up. "On de ride, de driver tough I was going to some sort of costume party." She jokes.
On the ride Ziss somewhat panicked about the whole situation... she had never dated anyone... she was still healing from the abuse she suffered and was completely insecure about herself, even if she had decided that she'd be the strong girl other thought she was.
"You are also wonderful Nicole." She says, moving closer to Nicole, taking her hand, turning it around and giving the back of her hand a small kiss. Tonight, she was Ziss from Askara. "So, shall we enter and make guys angry about de 'waste' of us being on a date?"
"Lead the way," Nicole says.
Inside, the place is designed to look like an underground bar from the 1920s. Jazz music plays as people chat, drink, and dance. Not everybody has dressed up to be on theme, so Ziss and Nicole draw their fair share of curious looks. But Nicole seems nonplussed as she makes her way to the bar and orders herself a martini.
"What are you drinking?" she asks Ziss.
"Considering dat I'm not dat familiar wif your drinks, a sidecar for me." She says, as if she actually knew the drink. She had made a quick research of the famous cocktails from 1920s and was glad that the place had many of them.
With absolutely no knowledge of how to be on a date with someone, Ziss at least figured that at the very least they should know each other better, so she thought about starting with that. "How about we play a little game, Nicole? We'll each take rounds asking each oder questions dat we should answer trufly... oderwise we'll need to perform a dare."
Nicole smiles. "Alright, sounds like fun. I'll go first. Where exactly are you from? You said you were a nomad, but you had to have been born somewhere!"
Ziss smirks. "Tough luck on your first question... I'm not really from anywhere, as everywhere I go changes me, but I was born in this very same city."
Sipping as she looks at Nicole, Ziss asks her question. "When meeting new people, what they usually get wrong about you and what they usually get right?"
"That's two questions, technically, but I'll let it slide," Nicole says with a giggle.
"What they usually get wrong is that as the daughter of a prominent person in the city, they think that I think I'm better than them. Which I know I'm not. I don't lord my mom's status over anybody. What they usually get right is that I'm always down for a party!"
She takes another sip of her drink. "Okay, my turn. What's your favorite memory?"
"Me with a strawberry ice cream on the beach. My mother on my left and my father on the right." She says, not really needing to think at all.
"What happened the last time you got completely embarrassed?" She asks, smiling.
Nicole smirks. "I got caught doing the walk of shame after a one-night-stand. The paparazzi had a field day with it, and my mom was furious!"
Another sip, then, she asks, "What are you hoping will happen after we leave the club tonight?" She raises an eyebrow and smiles slyly.
"Ha! No spoilers! I'll take a dare." Ziss says playfully, hoping to disguise the fact that she did not want to think how the night would end, since all her senses were still screaming about how a bad idea this whole date was.
"Boo! Alright," Nicole says. "I dare you to... take the dance floor alone for the next song and shake it for all you're worth!"
Ziss laughs in relief she sips from her drink. "You are too nice to me!"
While she has no idea about common dancing on Earth, she had saved plenty enough in Tharis. The beating was certainly different, but she certainly could improvise.
Locking Nicole with her gaze, she starts slow and timid, feeling the tune and testing how much mobility her dress allowed without revealing too much. A couple seconds later she lets the best take over her, dancing like nothing on Earth and not caring at all... She was having fun and that was all that mattered at that moment. Once or twice the dress showed way more than she was comfortable with, but to hell with it!
As the music ends, Ziss returns to Nicole's side, finishing her drink and now ordering a South Side. "How was dat? Ok, my turn den... What do you want de most dat you believe I could give you?"
"Oh my God, Ziss! You didn't tell me you were such an incredible dancer!" Nicole says. There's a new gleam in her eyes, and Ziss realizes she's made an indelible impression on the other woman.
"That's a good question. Hmm..."
"To be honest, I'm looking for more than just a good time. Most of the other people I've been with have been fun, but they lacked depth. There's something... special about you, Ziss. I'd like to get to know you better and see where things develop from there..."
A weight is lifted from her shoulders as Nicole answers her question. "I'm glad dat you fink dis way because I'm not a one-night-stand." She says. "Dis is all new to me, Nicole... I've never dated anoder woman before, and I do not want to rush anyfing."[b] The fact that she never dated anyone wasn't necessary to share now, as well as the fact that even if she wanted to rush things, she probably couldn't.
[b]"I've been lost for some time and I'm also trying to know myself better... we can discover fings togeder." She looks Nicole deeply, unwillingly showing her insecurities and doubts. "To be honest wif you, I'm bof curious and afraid of what we can discover."
Nicole reaches out and takes Ziss hands. "Thank you for being so open and honest with me. It's refreshing, and inspiring. We don't have to rush anything, Ziss. We can go as slow as you'd like."
Ziss holds Nicole's hands as well. "Slow as a non-experienced sixteen years old?" She asks, since that was what she was even if she certainly did not look like that. Too late she recalls that Wendy is also sixteen and well, from what she overheard sometimes she has been doing a lot of stuff with Wesley.
Her eyes drift to Nicole's lips, remembering their kiss from the other day, feeling her both with desire and anxiety. Well, you still have a question for me...
"Whatever you like," Nicole replies. "My question. May I kiss you?"
"You already did de oder night, and wifout asking!" She says playfully and smirking, not fully aware of how much she was provoking Nicole.
---
As they leave the club, later, it was decided that Nicole would give Ziss a ride back to Wendy's home. As the car stops, Ziss removes her seatbelt but doesn't leave the car. "Now you can kiss me..."
Nicole eagerly leans in to press her lips against Ziss’s. She caresses her cheek with a hand as the two share a romantic kiss.
Still learning how to properly kiss, Ziss lets Nicole take the initiative most of the time as she returns the kiss. Closing her eyes, she stops thinking for the moment, letting her nascent desire to guide her.
A couple minutes later Ziss starts to feel uneasy, so she pulls herself from Nicole's kiss. "Dis was a wonderful night, but I fink we should stop, save somfing for anoder night perhaps?" She asks, biting her lips.
"Mmm," Nicole agrees, reluctantly pulling away. "Good things are worth waiting for. Good night, Ziss. I hope to see you soon!"
Ziss smiles and gives Nicole one last quick peck on her lips. "I also hope to see you soon. Good night."
Ziss nods and smiles, agreeing with Wes, and when he gets the message, she turns to the elevator, decided she should check with Wendy why she had not shared with the others about the effects of rubbing the lamp.
Ziss sits by Diego. "Hey, how are you doing?"
”Better, now that I’m back on Earth,” Diego replies curtly. ”You?”
"Good? I guess?" She answers, uncertain. "Couple fings going on dis last week dat I'm not sure how to process." She says, not being too much specific.
"Was about to invite you for some trips in oder worlds but... you don't seem to like it too much, right" She asks bummed.
Over the Ear Buddies, DD announces, ”If everyone would kindly head up the elevator, I’m parked the the employee lot—every space, heh—in the Hatwing!
”Which shoulda been called ‘The Nightcap.’”
”Oh F%#! no!” he exclaims. ”Mother Earth for me only, gracias! My power is only worth a damn if I know of or have been to the spot before. Sometimes a picture works, so long as I, like, no what building and floor and s~#$ it’s on, but s~@!s too risky if I’m popping around blind!”
Ziss laughs a bit. "I'd not be inviting you for fighting crime or to blink around... people wifout powers can have fun too! Like hiking, and swimming, and skydiving..." She asks, trying to seduce him to some good old fashioned fun. "You don't need to be de Dervish all de time... you did not always had your powers, right?"