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Fleur's attention sharpened at the man's appearance and accent, but she covered it well, giving a frankly admiring look to the man's physique before favoring him with another brilliant smile. "Oh wow, are you from Dakana?" she asked excitedly, bouncing up and down a little on her toes. "I have always wanted to go there, I've heard it's beautiful! And they say the coffee is amazing, and the stuff that gets imported to the United States just isn't the same, do you think that's true?" She hastily pulled herself back together, blushing a little. "Sorry, I got totally off-track there. I'm looking for a school that's supposed to be around here, I think it's called Espardos, but my phone died and I'm totally lost. Do you maybe know any place like that around here?" 

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Geckoman's whole body tensed. Stesha was down on the street with a man who had managed to outfight Fulcrum. He knew the green-haired woman was powerful. So was Fulcrum. And now someone was behind him.

 

"Listen," he said casually, tone of voice the same as if he was ordering food in a restaurant. "The House of Swords can't contribute two cents here. They can't contribute one cent. So what's going to happen is I'm going to wait a few seconds, then I'm going to turn around. When I do so, you'll be on the ground with your hands on your head and any weapons and loose cents laid out on the ground in front of you." Geckoman's hands went to his belt, like an old Western gunfighter's. He had Geckorangs stored in either side, close enough he could grab and throw them.

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By the time Erik entered their room Min had discarded the towel for a large robe--Erik's actually--so she could maintain a small measure of modesty. Turning from the window, Min's flashed her husband a wide smile before crossing over to him, snuggling up against his chest and tucking her head under his chin. "I am well," she said, "I just wanted to see you."

Erik felt his wife tense up against him as she was hit with another contraction, but eventually she relaxed. "This is your fault you know," she said after a moment, a hint of amusement in her voice. "If you weren't so damned handsome, this wouldn't have happened."

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"On the subject of coffee I could not hazard a guess; I am something of a 'health nut', as they say," the Dakanan noted with a touch of apology, though not enough to cover the thinly veiled boast. "As for the school, though..." Tilting his head significantly he drew Stesha's attention across the street to the black-backed gold lettering that proclaimed the building there the 'Espadas School of Self-Defense and Swordsmanship!' "The exclamation point is a nice touch. I rather like the proprietor's sense of style." He turned back around to give the shorter woman a politely curious look. "I have heard American cities can be dangerous for beautiful women. Or are you perhaps a fencer? Ah! My manners. I am Nassor." He gave his name a bit of a flourish and offered his hand.

 

"Easy now, mon ami verte," the voice behind Chris soothed, sounding well amused. "Had I wished you ill I truly have no problem attacking a man from behind. I would feel worse about disturbing this lovely pièce de jardin dans la ville. Nor have I counted myself among the House since before you were born, unless I miss my guess." Geckoman could hear the other man take a slow step further away from him, his footfalls light. "Come, we'll split the difference. I'll keep my hands raised where you can see them, you may turn around and we'll speak like gentleman, oui?"

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"Oh!" Stesha followed his gaze to the school, affecting embarrassment. "Right there in front of my face and everything. I guess I got a little distracted." She took the offered hand, smiling up at him. "I'm Taylor, and I am hopeless at self-defense," she admitted, "though I guess that's probably not something I ought to admit to somebody I just met." She bit her bottom lip in a self-deprecating grin. "But I've always depended on the kindness of strangers. I'm supposed to be taking a look at the place for my nephew, my sister promised him that if he got a B average in school all year, she'd let him start fencing. His midterm grades are looking good, so here I am hoping to pick up some pamphlets and maybe a lesson in how much safety gear you can put on a kid before he can't move to fence anymore. He's a little clumsy," she admitted confidentially, with mental apologies to her nephew, and to Taylor whose name she was shamelessly appropriating. 

 

"You look like you could be a fencer," she observed, taking another glance at his torso, which was easy since it was right at eye level. "I was doing some reading, and fencers have really well-developed shoulders and core muscles..." She trailed off, blushing again. "Are you affiliated with the school?" 

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"Well, it's tough to argue with that," Erik agreed easily, leaning into the embrace with his wife, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I seem to recall you playing a pretty active role in the whole process, too, though. You know how easily suggestible I can be." Letting go he dropped gracefully down to a crouch, placing a hand on either side of Min's belly and addressing their second child even while he kept his eyes on the white haired woman's face. "Hey, try to go easy on your mom, there, alright? She's not getting any younger, you know. She's not getting any older, either, sure, but still." Pulling the bathrobe open slightly he placed a gentle kiss on her stomach, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

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"Yeah, stabbing someone's not as bad than messing up a garden," sighed Geckoman. "That's not gentlemanly. To my understanding, a gentleman'd never stab a man in the back. Wouldn't admit to doing it if you want to talk like gentlemen." He turned around. And immediately frowned.

 

The man looked remarkably like Erik. Like, uncannily so. "Whelp. We got an Espadas. Explains the lurking around on rooftops like an asshole." Geckoman's face immediately hardened. "Although you could have just knocked, and I know damn fine the guy down there is definitely House of Swords. Or, if they no longer are, have yet to apologise for stabbing a friend of mine. Lovely little coincidence." Whatever in the world was going on with the man he was increasingly certain was Grandpoppy Espadas? Chris decided to play dumb. If he meant well, he'd out and say who he was. If not, he probably wouldn't. "But you're clearly family, so I'll play nice. Who are you, and what's going on?"

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"I dabble, in fact," Nassor admitted with a modest shrug. "The school curriculum in Dakana is very well-rounded. I heartily recommend it for your nephew, if that is of any help. The discipline of a martial art rarely goes amiss and you may be surprised how quickly clumsiness may be trained away into strength and sureness." He looked back over at the sign and frowned very slightly, looking pensive as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "As for affiliation, ha, that is a surprisingly complicated question. The fellow who has his name on the sign is a cousin of mine, several times removed, admittedly, but we come from strong family traditions, if you will. We parted on rather poor terms when last we spoke however and being in Freedom City after some years I have been debating how best to reintroduce myself." He looked back to Stesha and smiled again. "Strong traditions make for strong dramatics, I fear! I acted somewhat uncouthly then and my cousin is one to hold a grudge, I think."
 
"In fact I don't have the honor of that nom de famille," the man on the roof corrected with a lopsided smile framed by an immaculate maintained blonde goatee that ended in a well-defined point. He was keeping his hands raised in front of him as promised, leaning nonchalantly against a trellis. "I am leur père, though, as you've surmised. Jean Pique, at your service." He bent foward at the shoulders in a sort of bow, careful to keep his hands when Chris could see them. "I suspect I am here for much the same reason you are yourself, oui?" His expression darkened a few degrees, the friendly smile slipping slightly. "I... underestimated the House's response to la naissance de ma petite-fille last time, my intent was to be more watchful the second time around."

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Geckoman frowned slightly. He knew that Erik's relationship with his dad was... estranged. Especially after walking out on the family. And he was fairly sure he was kind of expected to pull rank with the family on this one. He exhaled heavily, and looked Jean in the eye. "Listen, man, I get what you're doing, and I don't think it's entirely poorly intentioned. But... I'm not sure Erik'd appreciate it much. Especially with the lurking on his roof without telling anyone."

 

Chris forced a small smile. He knew mistakes, and wanting to make up for them. He didn't think it quite right that anyone'd gone so far they couldn't be forgiven. It probably wasn't his call, but he wasn't willing to tell Jean where to stick it. "On the other hand, I recognise that guy down there. And he is from the Sword Squad. I don't think Erik needs to know about this quite yet, but do you know what the deal is down there?"

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"Family relationships are some of the hardest to navigate," Stesha agreed sympathetically, patting Nassor lightly on the arm. "My father has a cousin out in Indianapolis who comes to every extended family gathering but hasn't spoken to my dad since they were children because their mothers pretty much hated each other and just passed it along. I think it's so sad when that kind of animosity gets passed along, don't you? Tradition is all well and good, but sometimes you've got to just toss it aside or you're going to spend your life being unhappy because of other people's mistakes." 

 

She made a point of studying the parking lot, one finger on her chin. "It seems weird that the parking lot is totally empty at this hour. I wonder if they're closed for the day or something. Maybe we ought to leave and come back later, when there's more going on." 

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"...so anyway, that's why I missed class that day. Estúpido Gwen Jackson and her dragon." They were still in position on either side of the hallway, but with some prompting Yolanda had taken out her math homework and begun to work on it. "At least she's not allowed to take it to school anymore, even if all her ugly friends can play with it at her house." 

 

"Children can be thoughtlessly cruel," agreed Steve. "But a time will come when she grows into a woman and regrets the wound she inflicted on you." He kept half an ear, no more, on the happy conversation on the other side of the door, having taken up the position closest to the birthing. "It is our fate to regret the past." 

 

"Why do you do that?" she asked him, setting her pencil down as she looked at him again. "Why do you talk about fate so much? The cyborg kids, they do the same thing, and Prometheus did that when he came to talk to our class." 

 

"It is..." Steve was quiet for a moment, drawing together his inner thoughts. "In the Terminus, there are no gods, no heavens. No devils, no hells. There is simply those of us who live, and our suffering beneath the Eternal Heel of Entropy. Most succumb to despair and embrace Omega as the dread incarnation of Death that brought them to this place. But for those of us who do not, we look to...our fate to explain what has happened to us." 

 

Yoyo hmmed at that. "Maybe I'll make my own fate, then." 

 

"Perhaps," said Steve, and then, as lightly as he could given the weighty subject. "And your mathematical problems?"

 

With a sigh, Yolanda went back to work. 

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"Well, obviously, mon jeune ami, he would attempt to punch me in my tremendously handsome face," Pique agreed easily, using one hand to stroke his goatee roguishly. "That's why I'm on the roof. Do try to keep up." Keeping a very calculated excess of a single lunge away from Chris, the swordsman moved in a slow circle to the edge of the rooftop and glanced downward. "As for Nassor, well, I don't think he truly means any harm. He's circled this block three times and if he were merely 'casing the joint' as one does he would have made his move already. It's as though he were nervous about asking the prettiest princess at the ball to dance."

 

"A reasonable suggestion, Taylor, however time is somewhat precious commodity just now," the object of the rooftop discussion explained, pressing his lips together and visibly choosing his words more carefully as he touched upon a topic that would be more difficult to explain in full. "Suffice to say the issue has become less one of navigation and more one of, ah, survival."

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"Oh, I'm keeping up. Hence why I was the one to say he'd not like it before you did. Try not to be a smartass, anciano." Chris didn't bother moving as Jean paced, just languidly keeping his eyes fixed on him. He was fairly confident Erik's father was a very skilled and dangerous combatant, regardless of his efforts to present as not being here to fight. He was even more confident that he was pretty dangerous himself.

 

"If he's not attacking, why is he here? He's not a friend. He's not family. He's not particularly welcome. Would he be burdened with some weird notion that he's any one of those three things?" Chris shrugged his shoulders. "Thinks if he keeps an eye out we might let the Swords within a hundred yards of this building?"

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"Why is it a matter of survival?" Fleur asked, her voice filled with curiosity and concern. Her eyes widened. "Oh! Is it one of those situations where someone in your family needs a blood transfusion or a kidney transplant, and the only people who might be matches are people who are relatives, but nobody in the immediate family is a match? I always thought that would be so frightening. I mean, I have four siblings so if that ever happened there would be a lot of potential matches, but it still sounds terrible... I'm sorry, I'm rambling again." She pursed her lips as though about to be quiet, then immediately started again. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Or maybe they are?" 

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Jean gave Chris a sideways glance. "You understand I am French, oui, not Spanish? I play it up a bit while in the States, to be honest." Looking back down at the street he continued, "As for Nassor, he is in fact famille, after a fashion, whether anyone involved would wish it so. I can't claim to know the man well, so I hesitate to infer much more from his actions. There's a considerable range in how seriously the assorted members de la Maison take familial responsibility, hm?" Without turning around he steppled his fingers and leaned back. "Had he intended infiltration I doubt you would have seen him coming. No offense intended, of course. ...well, perhaps un peu. I am French."
 
"Ha, well, 'trouble' does feature prominently on our family crest, as it were," Nassor admitted with a wry chuckle, a warm, melodic bass several tones lower than his speaking voice. "It would be fair to say that... medical emergencies are a likely outcome of recent events. Please understand, the last thing I wish is to be rude but to explain in any more detail would be to risk your personal safety." Recalling an earlier part of the conversation he raised his hands in a calming gesture and managed a small smile. "Please do not allow any of that to dissuade you from placing your nephew in the care of the school. My cousin and his more immediate family have proven themselves staunchly opposed to that 'trouble', if I may be euphemistic. The safety of his students is quite assured."

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"Yes, I think you're right about that." Still smiling gently, Fleur raised her hands and lifted down her hood, revealing her intricate green braids and crown of pink gillyflower. "They would never allow harm to come to one of their students. And their friends will not allow any harm to come to them." Her whole body was still loose, unprepared for fighting or running, but she stood between Nassor and the building with an implacable air that belied her stature. "Whatever family business you need to discuss with them should really wait for a more appropriate time. They're very busy today, and I'm afraid nobody will be able to see you. Why don't you let me take you out for a coffee instead? Or a smoothie, if you don't indulge." 

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Chris pinched his nose. Egads, but this man was egotistical. "Not seen him coming? Oh man, you're just..." He sighed and shook his head. "Man, you do not take us seriously in the slightest, do you? Because I reckon we'd detect him. And if they came to attack, we keep beating them." The Geckoman straightened up, a grin forming on his face. "But no, we don't know why that guy is here, and you're feeling a little smug about that because it might mean you can contribute where the Interceptors failed. But you're just saying things Sword Dude isn't here to do." He put a hand over his mouth to cover the snickers.

 

"I asked you why he's here because I dunno, I genuinely dunno. But you're too proud to admit you don't know either!" A short belly laugh escaped from behind Chris's hand. "Oh god, now I know you're definitely Erik's dad."

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"There's _another_ Omegadrone on Earth-Prime?" Yolanda was excited, but it was neither a good nor a bad excitement. It was more the effects of her soul being struck with a live wire as she focused all her energies on Steve, her math homework once again forgotten. "What's her name? What's she like?" 

"Her name is Argonaut," said Steve reluctantly, "and she is..." He wasn't at all sure how to explain his mixed feelings for the other Omegadrone to a child, so instead he told the truth as best he could. "A brave ally against the Terminus. She is someone for you to know when you are older." 

"Is she like you?" asked Yolanda, toying with her neatly sharpened Number 2 pencil. 

"No, she is...more experienced with Earth-Prime. She would have arrived with the invasion forces in 1993." Steve put his big hands on his knees. "It...it would be best if we took a break," he told the girl. "You should go below and find some food, and I will take some air." 

That got him a suspicious look. "Are you _sure_ you're going out to take some air?" 

"I never said I was going to go out," replied Steve, not insulting Yolanda's intelligence by pretending to stand up. "The air is the air." 

She sighed dramatically. "Tio Steeeve..." But she knew she was getting tired and hungry, and to rest when she was tired and eat when she was hungry. So she set aside her homework for the moment and headed for the stairs, clomping down to join the people on the floor below, while Steve remained by the master bedroom. 

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Nassor regarded Stesha's verdant hair less with surprise than with put-upon resignation. "Ah. Well, it is nice to be right now and then, certainly." Raising his hands slowly with his palms toward the florakinetic to make it clear that there was nothing in them, he placed them behind his shaved head with the fingers laced, the movement not coincidentally spreading open his jacket to show that there was no obvious holster or scabbard within reach. Crouching, he pointedly got down on his knees, hands still behind his head and never breaking eye contact with Stesha. "I promise you that I am not here to start a fight. I am attempting to prevent one. I appreciate your position but I do not believe this can wait." His words were carefully measured and calm but he clearly didn't want to risk underestimating his new acquaintance. "I could speak with the younger sister, the Jack of Coins? Even Pique if necessary; he has already been watching us from the rooftop for some time."

"Well, that's a bit embarrassing," the elder swordsman in question remarked dryly to Chris as he watched Nassor nod directly toward them from the street.

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Stesha pursed her lips and regarded him for a moment. "I will ask if someone can speak to you," she told him, not unsympathetic, but very firm. "If it's all right with them, you can speak to someone. If not, you can pass your message along through me. Please don't make me have to restrain you." There wasn't even a drop of doubt in her voice that she could do so if necessary. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jacket and dialed Ellie's number. "Hey Jill, it's Fleur de Joie. I'm really sorry to interrupt, but I've got a man out here on the sidewalk who really, really wants to talk to you. Tall, bald, Dakanan, says his name is Nassor, and that he's not looking for a fight, but trying to prevent one. He seems to be unarmed, but that's not exactly my department.  Are you available? Oh, and he says there's a guy named Peek on the roof, but Geckoman is already up there." 

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"Well." Chris nodded dumbly. "We are not as sneaky as we thought. Well." He turned to look at Jean. "Well, he looks like he's surrendered to Flower Girl, so. Could be worse?" The Geckoman shrugged. 

"Should we head down to the street? I mean, your goose is cooked anyway. I'll merrily lie my ass off about anyone being here. She probably won't. And she's prolly phoning them to tell them people are up here anyway. You're kinda busted."

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"Pique. It's French," Ellie corrected flatly, staring at the phone she'd switched over the speaker and set down on the table so that the entire room could hear. "I... Yeah, I'll be right out, Fleur. Thanks for taking care of it." Hanging up with a tap of her finger and letting out a slow breath, she turned to Mara, her expression clouded. "Mind backing me up? Sounds like one of the guys you dealt with last time we all did this dance."

If medical student's expression was clouded, the one her mother wore was a hurricane. Wheeling her chair to the base of the stairs, Gina cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, "JOHN!"

On the second floor, Erik's head popped abruptly out of the bedroom door, hair inexplicably more mussed than when he'd run inside and looked to Steve in alarm. "Did she just shout what I think she did?" he asked the big, bald man urgently, muscles in his jaw visibly clenching with a mixture of emotions that were hard to put names to.

The call successfully reached the rooftop, albeit diminished by distance and the barriers of closed doors and Jean winced mightily. "Perhaps less cooked than torn to pieces and fed to the dogs, non? I think it may be better to resolve the question of our Dakanan friend before I go to meet my untimely though admittedly well deserved end."

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It was hard to describe the look that came onto Steve's face at Erik's question - or rather at the urgency in his friend's voice. It was as if man had suddenly become a wolf, eyes hard and body set. "Did you think it was John?" he asked seriously. "Yolanda, go below," he told her with the sort of quiet urgency that made the young girl spring into action; though perhaps with some gladness as she left her math homework behind to go scrambling downstairs to join those downstairs. "Who is John?" he asked with a tone that suggested a dire fate indeed for the interloper, whoever he was. Weaponless, his scarred bare hands looked like weapons of their own. 

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"Yes," Mara replied, standing up. frowning at the surveillance image before dismissing it. "Maybe not surprising that he's unarmed. From description, I think I still have his sword."

Light flared at the glass and joints of her choker, and a twisted wave of space washed over her. In its wake was left a familiar set of high-tech armor, and that, too, lit up - the comforting hum of science. "Protect the house, Yolanda," she requested as the young girl came down the stairs, with all the tone of someone issuing solemn duty. "No fighting if you can help it, but be on the lookout for tricks. Additional perspectives are always valuable."

She gestured, the drone on the table folding its legs back into its body and lifting off with a quiet chittering beep. "Lead the way, Ellie. Will do my best to look scary."

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"Hey, you're getting thrown to the dogs? How's this look for me?" protested Chris. "I'm not coming out of here without at least a seriously clipped ear." He rolled his eyes. "Right. Let's resolve this before someone gets impaled.

Meanwhile, Liz had produced a thin metallic object covered in knobs and dials from her pocket. "If anyone gets in," she informed Mara and Ellie. "I'll send them right back out the window again. Ain't that right, Yolanda?" A grim expression was set on the young woman's face. "Go solve... whatever the hell is going on. Maybe next time we have a normal domestic situation where nobody gets impaled."

Chris leapt off the rooftop and landed in the street in a crouch. He came up slowly, bones aching from the sudden impact, a finger pointed at the House of Swords swordsman. "Right. You. I'd explain what's going on pretty quick, because it's about to get domestic." He quickly glanced back at the rooftop, to check if Jean was coming down or running away.

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