(no subject)

[deicider]

WHO: Sniper
WHERE: various locations
WHEN: through mid-late September
WHAT: a dinner date, driving lessons, some shop talk
NOTES OR WARNINGS: you can hit me up via PM or at praecipitanter if you'd like a top level!

Comments

ARDYN

[deicider]

[deicider]

[Ardyn was right about the view form the restaurant. Unencumbered by any other nearby building, it offers an expansive swatch tepid darkness, thinned by the excess of lights. Flirting a window seat out of the host hadn't taken much finesse, and though the city didn't hold much appeal to Sniper, it was something to do while they waited. Such idle moments had been rare in their life before this, and their mind couldn't help but stray to what they'd normally be doing with this time: checking in on their siblings, setting up clients for the weeks ahead, scanning the news for the accomplishments and advances of a flourishing world.

Hating New Amsterdam would be a waste of energy. It was a problem to be solved as quickly as possible so they could return to their home and the vast, world-threatening problems they had left there. If anything, they pitied this world and the awful mess humans had made of it and themselves.

But looking at New Amsterdam from this lofty didn't didn't make them like it any better. They hoped Ardyn wasn't going to be late.]

[daemonized]

[He arrives only ten minutes past the appointed time, which is decent enough for a man like Ardyn, who acts and moves a bit like an overgrown cat. Abiding by his own schedule, hardly anything ever pressing enough to quicken his step. This is equally his demeanor when he draws close, dressed in hues of black and dark grey; plain trousers and a dark charcoal button-up dress shirt, complete with a tie with an interesting floral pattern swinging loosely across his front.

Expression adorned with his usual smile, he approaches the table with Sniper already seated. They’ve snagged a window seat, allowing them a view of the city spread across the horizon, in all its beauty and ugliness. Ardyn is glad for it, the way a man is glad for small, truly inconsequential things; unimportant, but should give the night some flair.]

Am I late? [He huffs out in amusement, then answers his own question.] Oh, but not by much. Fashionably, I think they'd call it.

[Who's "they"? Who knows.]

[deicider]

[Sniper greets him with a bright smile, unperturbed. Their own clothing is deceptively plain, dark colors form-fitting the ambiguous curves of their body.]

Just ten minutes might as well be an accident. Aim for twenty next time. An hour or two if it's a party.

[This was a topic Sniper knew quite a lot about; public appearances had been the bulk of their work back home. Degree of lateness was indeed a statement, one Sniper had used when they needed to shore up the public perception of them as a rambunctious, beloved air head.]

You look nice. [So Ardyn's getting money from somewhere. They wonder where, what kind of job he went for. Really, the only agenda they have tonight is curiosity and alleviating the crushing boredom of this place.] You've been settling in well?

[daemonized]

[Lateness utilized as a showing of social status is nothing new to Ardyn, who worked in the Empire’s political circles for many years. Though he sidestepped any of the real pomp and circumstance, exerting only effort in the specific lanes that would work to further his goals, and approaching the rest with his usual indolent flippancy.

Such is the case now, his showing of ten minutes past the agreed time more out of languor than putting on airs. The clothes are nice, though one might wonder if he’s afforded them on his own, or if the income of two is paying for a portion of his wardrobe.

Smiling, he pulls out his chair and takes a seat, gesturing idly at Sniper. Ardyn’s always the sort to speak with his hands.]

How kind of you to say. But yes, I’ve found a place of my own, shared with an old friend. It’s a little lacking, but who am I to complain? I’ve lived in worse.

[Like the safehouse. Like Angelgard.]

And how have you been? Bring me up to speed.

[deicider]

Bored. [The admission is softened by a rueful smile. ] Like I said, I was laid up for a while after all the excitement. And then back to business as usual.

[Not that Ardyn knows what that means for Sniper. They didn't invite Ardyn out to dinner to talk about themself, which they assume Ardyn knows and is going to be a pain in the ass about all night, but that's all as expected.]

Someone from home?

[Mild curiosity. In truth the number of people who seem to come from the same place was frustrating, simply for the fact that Sniper was here alone. In idle moments they found themselves imagining who might show up in the regular arrivals. Their old boss. One of their siblings. One of their enemies. Any of them would be invaluable.]

[daemonized]

[Definitely going to be a pain in the ass about all night, he's already got his number down.

And it is a curiosity. "Business as usual". Ardyn wants to know what that means, slotting it away in his back pocket for now, wondering if he might be able to make the connections himself without directly asking. But the conversation moves on, floating about like a ghost, with Ardyn harboring no real motivation to keep it pinned down, stopping it from flitting from topic to topic.]

Not at all. Someone from a world before this one; I met him there, you know, and we became friends. What are the chances that he'd be dragged along with me to this place?

[Chances, he says, knowing that it feels far more purposeful than anything else.]

[deicider]

This is your third? [Or was it even more than that? That raised a lot more questions about Ardyn. Prior to coming here, Sniper had only met one person claiming to be from another universe, and the same person claimed to be a god. Whether Ardyn was or wasn't one remained to be seen, but he clearly wasn't a normal person.

Right now there were nothing but coincidences that Sniper couldn't quite fit into a pattern.]

It doesn't really seem like it's 'by chance', does it? Of all the people in all the worlds, why you?

[daemonized]

Yes. [He lifts up a hand, starts listing them off one by one on each finger— as if three is so very difficult to keep track of.] Eos, El Nysa, then New Amsterdam. And while I do enjoy expanding my horizons, it would be nice to return home at some point. You know, to check and see how everyone else is doing after all this time.

[A wide grin, followed be a shrug. In the midst of the next reply, Ardyn is bringing up the virtual display of the menu, seen between both of them via their respective implants. He mentally scrolls idly down his side.]

I suppose that depends on who you ask. Have you spoken with any of the others here from my world? Eos, that is. [Easier to gauge how to reply, knowing this.]

[deicider]

No, not really. I'm more interested in your opinion, anyway. [They could guess at who he meant; Sniper paid attention to people.] Do you know how the second world happened?

[The answer could shed some light on how they got here. Or just put Ardyn in an awkward position. Either would be fine. They don't really need to look at the menu, so they mostly just look at Ardyn through it.]

[daemonized]

Well, in my opinion why I’m anything remotely special… I suppose it has to do with my status with the Empire. Niflheim. I was Chancellor, you know, holding quite a bit of sway where politics were concerned. Though one does wonder why that would be of interest to any of the forces that draw us to and fro across the universe.

[That is not at all the whole reason of why Ardyn might be considered special.]

The work of the gods, maybe? Who’s to say?

[The menu is perused, flickering here and there.]

As for the second world, we were told that our original worlds were destroyed, and thus we had been saved accordingly. Seems a bit suspect now, doesn’t it?

[deicider]

That's so awful. [There's heat to that, some real offense on Ardyn's behalf. Being kidnapped and lied to about the fate of your world felt unbelievably cruel. They couldn't even conceive of their own reaction to such a loss, besides disbelief.

They make a note to ask about how this other world had snatched people later. Ardyn was in full bullshitting form, and they refused to be distracted. ]

Some people would say you have the qualities of a god yourself. [Long-living, some sort of invulnerability.] Have you ticked off any gods lately?

[It had crossed Sniper's mind, in those moments before the situation of the displaced crystallized: that they had angered their world's god by killing his fellow god, his 'guest'. Sometimes the thought still crossed their mind, though it was far down on the list of viable explanations.]

[daemonized]

[His eyes move away from that empty space in-between them, tracking the floating menu. Instead, it lands on Sniper properly, and the grin widens, letting air slip past in a soft, lilting laugh.]

I have the attributes of a god? That’s flattering, but the amount of people you’d have laughing upon hearing such a thing— Ah, what a shame they’re not here.

[But this turn of the conversation inspires Ardyn to lean forward with his elbows on the table, lacing fingers together and resting his chin upon them.]

Let me tell you a secret. [It’s not a secret.] I despise the gods of my world. Nothing more than divine hypocrites, all of them. And to answer your question, well, the Empire did manage to slay one of them. I imagine they don't look upon me very fondly via that alone.

FITZ

[deicider]

[deicider]

[Sniper doesn't know this bar in particular, but they can make some educated guesses about it in general, based on the atmosphere. It's a good location to chat about things that skirt the edge of legality, which is a point Sniper will add in Fitz favor for general competence. It grates on them to have to work like this, half-blind and extending trust based on limited evidence, vetting inch by inch. Their own judgement is reliable—this is hardly the first illegal thing they've done even discounting the assassinations—but there's too much room for things to get sloppy. And too much homework. If Fitz turns out to be as competent and professional as he comes across, it will be one less pain in their ass.

Even dressed drab, Sniper looks out of place as soon as they walk through the door, like a college freshman coming in on a dare. But it's with unperturbed confidence that they make their way deeper, looking for Fitz.]

[retravel]

[ For his part, Fitz waits at the end of the bar, apart from others so Sniper can spot him easily. They haven't met, but he provided a brief description: Scruffy, in all blacks, stood where he promised he would be (and Scottish, which tends to rule out most locals). If Sniper asks around, most groups (and staff) will be able to identify him. See, Fitz is a regular, associated with the gang that keeps the lights on here, leaving him well-known and, largely, well-liked.

As Sniper approaches, he makes an educated guess, lifting a hand. ]

Hey. [ and he extends it for a shake, unafraid of what empathy might show (calm upheld by control, a hint of curiosity). ] Fitz. [ not Leo or Leopold, just to be sure. ] Good to meet you properly.

[deicider]

[Sniper flashes him a bright smile and takes the hand without hesitation. On their own end a buoyant confidence backs a firm handshake and a palm both well-calloused and well-cared for despite it. They're pleased to be potentially moving forward on something concrete, something that isn't just biding time and information. If this works out the way they want it to—If Fitz is up to snuff—it will open up a lot of options, both for them and the group at large.]

You, too. Considering everything that's happened, we haven't had much face time. [They release Fitz's hand, taking a quick survey of the bar.] Let's find a table. [Adding, just to see what Fitz will say:]You picked an interesting spot to meet.

[retravel]

[ Fitz already has a pint for the road, lifted in mock cheers at the comment about his selection, as they find a table (a spot in the corner, slightly removed). If he's surprised by Sniper's youthful appearance, it doesn't show. ]

Cheap drinks. [ humming in appreciation. ] Good crowd.

[ Not meant in the typical way, mind you. The lot here is friendly but not bothersome, loud but not rowdy, sketchy but not quite dangerous. That's why he chose the Hi-Jacks over the other gangs: a group with connections and without damning links to the crime families or drug trade. You're not likely to find any corporate or government types around here, either. ]

And Valentina's a friend, so.

[ A flourish in the direction of the bar. With implants preventing anonymity, he'd rather be known and liked. ]

[deicider]

[Sniper orders a beer for solidarity, more interested in wrapping their hands around the cold glass than actually drinking. They settle in opposite, peering at Fitz.]

You're settling in well. [They cock their head, openly curious.] Do you like it here?

["Here"—this world they've been dumped in. Sniper knew thriving didn't necessarily equate to liking anything. They had settled in just as well at Fitz—a job, an apartment, people who recognized them in the park they went for runs in—But every day that passed filed away at their patience. If their theory about who got nabbed and why was right, Fitz probably left important work at home, but as flawed as this world was, it wasn't much more so than any other historical point on Earth. This world could have charm, for someone who didn't come from a near-utopia.]

[retravel]

Like seems a touch strong, for the overall picture.

[ measured, as Fitz tends to be in all things. He takes a sip. ]

[ tipping his head this way and that. ] I like certain people. [ friends among the displaced, members of the Hi-Jacks, and their Morningstar handlers, too. ] And I want to help this city. [ this universe, he means, but doesn't say, careful with his wording despite the buzz of the crowd. ]

But I love my partner. [ Jemma Simmons, frequently mentioned in his chats on the network. Fellow agent, biochemist, true north. Fitz is intentionally open about his life here and in his original universe. ] Not to mention my home, so.

[ So this is temporary. It has to be. Another drink, more generous than the last, and he tilts his glass in Sniper's direction, brows lifted. ]

What about yourself?

[deicider]

[Sniper smiles as Fitz goes on: wry, sympathetic.]

I miss my home. [Echoing Fitz's sentiment, but leaving out their own ambiguous feelings. This world was a dark mirror of their own, a reminder of everything their world had struggled so fiercely to overcome. And a reminder of what might happen to it if Sniper couldn't return in time to defend it.]

But I do think we have a good shot at helping things here. [They sound perfectly confident. Monsters were appearing out of nowhere; the boundaries of what was possible for this world was changing. Sniper knew first-hand how fragile that made a world already under strain. How malleable.

Fitz had his own designs, clearly, but it sounded like his priority was home. That was good to know.]

Which is a big part of why I wanted to meet with you. Right now, we have a few tricks but not a lot of resources to work with. I have a plan that might fix that. But I wanted to hear more about what you've got going on already before I get into that.

[retravel]

[ When Sniper echoes his sentiments, Fitz nods. It's a relief to hear someone want for home while stepping back to view the board, simultaneously. It's a hard balance for any of them to strike, but it's necessary. A little flicker of his gaze, at the idea that he was wanted for this meeting, specifically. Despite being a bloody know-it-all, he often doubts his value to their case.

'Course he's always game for a plan. Sniper's struck him as thoughtful, from their network interactions. Certainly worth hearing out. ]

Bit difficult to pin down what I've got going on. [ dry, but not unfriendly. it's more of a private joke, 'cause his brain's on the fritz. ] Been helping a few people dig into their new jobs. [ by which he means: investigate their respective places of work. ] Trying to figure out how we can better disperse — and collaborate, if I see opportunities for it. [ get them well-positioned and actually, y'know, talking. hero types tend to run off on their own, after all. ] And sorting out hardware requests, as needed. [ gadgets, baby. ]

[ it's all things within his purview as the team nerd, brainstorming and theorising. he's happy to elaborate, but most of the threads he's eyeing (or asking others to tug at) are disparate, half-formed things. ]

So, what'd you have in mind?

[deicider]

[Fitz also seemed to have a good sense for how to get things done. It was a cheering observation.]

A couple of different things. One of them should hopefully be a small project. I was wondering if you could modify the appearance of some of that stuff we got recently.

[They lean forward, chin resting on their hands. One thumb gently taps the corner of their jaw: subtle, but hopefully Fitz will clue in that they mean the masks.]

If you can make more that's great too, but I want to be able to customize how it looks.

[They fully anticipated having need of the masks for the future, but they were Morningstar's tech. Morningstar's safety was reason enough to want to put distance between the two groups, but that wasn't the real reason Sniper was making this particular request: it wasn't like it would fool the UNA. No, Morningstar was a group whose name people were afraid to speak. They had baggage, heavier now after the raid. Not to mention their own agenda—an agenda Sniper respected, but it wasn't always compatible with their own goals.

Meanwhile, the displaced were having shrines erected to them. The public was being primed to see their group as something different, new.]

[retravel]

[ Hm, Fitz had returned his tech, intent of forging a genuine connection with Gaby and Morningstar, so tinkering with "borrowed" goods is, well, not ideal. 'Course he'll still do it, but it'll be limited to what others nicked.

He drags a hand over his jaw. ]

What are you hoping to achieve with a customisation job? [ asked neutrally. ] 'Cause my answer will change, depending. [ a rolling gesture. ] If it's that you want a stable, hm, [ he snaps his fingers, looking for the word. ] appearance — a specific look, I mean, that's slightly different tech. [ stable disguises, not shifting scramblers. ] Can try my hand at modifying it, of course. Add a visual layer on top of the scrambling mechanic. [ one corner of his mouth tugs to the side, amused. ] Pull a Guy Fawkes.

[ do other universes get that reference?? whatever, it's british culture, he has to make it. ]

But if it's that you want to avoid association with the designer, well. [ a pointed tip of his head. ] It might be best to disassemble one, and work toward building something entirely new. Same idea, different design. [ he leans forward, elbows on the table. ]

There's not much to rework on the surface, with the build aiming to scramble and obscure rather than take on a particular appearance. Customisation wouldn't remove the technological signature, which is the design in and itself, really. [ on something this high level and innovative, anyway. a new look will be like a cheap coat of paint: scratch the surface, and you'll find morningstar underneath. ] At least as I understand it.

[ As a defence tech who's had his work stolen before. ]

[deicider]

Just looking different is the priority, for now. [They affirm, nodding along with the rest. As Fitz continues, their mouth quirks into a rueful smile.] I'd love a redesign, but association with the designer's moot at this point. I just want to add some color to it—so to speak.

[Like blue. It's not like the UNA was suddenly going to believe the blue glowing people weren't associated with Morningstar, even if Fitz managed to rework the tech. The masks themselves weren't public knowledge but another monster attack or something similar and they might be. They wanted something distinctive to catch the public eye, and something that would send a message to the powers in this world that they would be dealing with a different beast than Morningstar, regardless of association.

More practically: they weren't an engineer, but they suspected a re-design would take forever. At the rate things were happening they needed the ASAP solution.]