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"Okay, thanks," Stesha replied, hanging up her phone and tucking it away again in her jacket pocket. She looked over to Nassor, still patiently waiting on the ground. "She'll be out in a minute to speak with you. You've been very much a gentleman so far, I'd appreciate it a lot if you continued that. She has a lot on her mind today." Stesha looked up at the sudden impact noise of shoes on concrete, then gave Chris an encouraging wave. "It's all right," she assured him, "Jill is on her way out so she can speak with him. Did you already deal with the guy up on the roof? It sounded like Jill already knew who he was when I told her about him." 

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"My mother may have raised a brigand and a scoundrel but manners were always a priority," Nassor replied dryly, maintaining as much dignity and composure as he could in his kneeling position and for a moment it was difficult not to see a bit of similarity in his faint, chagrined smirk and the sardonic sense of humour belonging to the young woman who came out of the school to meet him. For his part Nassor focused more immediately on Dragonfly. "Ah. On the off chance it does not go without say, I would quite like not to be set on fire if it is all the same? I suppose the chances of getting my sword back are..." He rocked back and forth slightly to suggest a weighing of scales. "...slim?"

"Jean, it's Fren-- doesn't matter," Erik told Steve, grating his teeth back and forth in unconcealed irritation. "Jean Pique, the previous Jack of Swords and, lucky me, mi padre. He's not a bad guy he's just a bad guy." He wasn't entirely sure how well that actually conveyed what he was trying to get across but the big, bald man tended to be either pretty quick on the uptake or else stoic enough about it that it was tough to tell the difference. "Nnngh, alright, I need to go talk mi madre out of shooting his kneecaps out, can you go to the roof and keep an eye on him? I'm kinda worried he'll talk Chris into something stupid." He hated to ask anybody to deal with Pique but there was something to be said for putting the fear of Steve into the old man. "Just don't underestimate him and probably don't armor up; he's go some sort of weak point detecting mojo and I don't want to find out what happens if he catches you in the middle of... y'know. The unfolding thing."

 

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"Nonexistent," Dragonfly confirmed - in keeping with her role as bodyguard and escort she kept her tone as flat and professional as she could. In better circumstances it might have actually been fairly fun. "Points for politeness, but people who try to steal babies do not keep their toys. Mine now. If it helps, haven't broken it down for samples yet, and probably won't in near future. Maybe. Makes me happier as a trophy. Also, in fairness:"

She brought up a hand, pointing at the drone hovering at eye-height next to her; it had been occupying itself by studying Nassor, and on cue its large, neon-blue lens flushed red.

Behind her, a series of matching red lights lit up around the school, cloaked drones making themselves known. "Cause trouble and somehow get past others, and fire will not be your problem."

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As drones lit up outside the building, one climbed up onto the roof, his footsteps heavy on the rickety metal fire escape once he entered it from an upper-story window. There were other, more secure ways of making his way to the rooftop - but there was no reason to broadcast his knowledge of the terrain. Once there, he stared expressionlessly at Jean Pique for a moment, recognition briefly flaring in his scarred eyes, before he walked to the edge of the roof and looked down. Turning back, he walked past Pique to the main door down into the building proper. There he raised his comm and sent a voice-to-text signal down to Jack, the Archetech-brand receiver catching his own muffled voice perfectly.

"Geckoman has already jumped off the roof." 

When that was done, he turned back to Jean Pique - and silently stared. 

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"That was you?" Stesha exclaimed to Nassor, her face full of dawning outrage. "You were one of the ones who tried to steal Eden? With the home invasion and the stabbing and the attempted kidnapping? And you didn't think to mention that before asking me to bring Jill out here, today of all days? And I thought you were nice!" She took one step towards the surrendered villain, and there was a sudden sharp smell of cut grass in the air from no identifiable source. With an audible breath, Stesha reined herself in. "If you set one foot wrong," she warned him in a low voice, "you will have a very long tour of a very unpleasant dimension I know." 

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"He did, un peu, oui," Jean agreed with Steve, leaning slightly closer to the edge of the roof to see where Chris had leapt but generally choosing to keep out of sight of those below. "Sent to keep an eye on the wily old man in the meantime, were you?" When the bald man continued to regard him impassively the aging fencer frowned slightly and cleared his throat. "Apologies, I'm not sure which one you are but you seem distinctly less lizard-themed, which is to your credit, ha!" That didn't get any reaction either and Jean was left to fold his arms and lean against one of Min's trellises. "So, it's to be that way, then? Very well! You will find I can be silent just as easily as-- hn." Something in the former Omegadrone's expression caused him to hold his tongue in earnest, waiting for Steve to give him something to work with.

"We did not actually manage to enter the home," Nassor corrected with a sigh that suggested he knew quite well that this conversation was not going to go particularly well for him no matter what he said at this point, "and in fairness I did allude to some prior misbehaviour. Nor was I the only one failing to be entirely forthcoming though, yes, I appreciate the moral high ground has been compromised at this point, hence my prostrate posture, hm?"

"Swell," Ellie drawled, expression cool as she stood in front of the swordsman with her hands on her hips. She didn't bother letting her powers bleed into the air around her hands in an intimidating light show; he already knew what she could do, she was sure. "In the spirit of honesty you should know that every word out of your mouth makes me want to punch you in the face more and more."

Nassor actually cracked a small smile at that. "Would you believe I get that quite frequently?"

"Not a shock, no. You have something to say, better spit it out."

Coughing awkwardly the Dakanan nodded. "Of course, yes. Where to begin? Ah, well, it is important, I think, that you understand that when your father faked his death -- quite convincingly done! -- and the Mantle did not return as intended that alone was not enough to cause undue commotion though certainly a number of plans generations in the making were upset. Even when your brother surfaced and the connection to Pique was made the feeling was that the Tournament would either bring him into the fold as he should have been to begin with or else resolved the irregularity quite definitively. But when Denari was slain by, hmph, 'Staff' and that Mantle--"

The long winded explanation was cut short as Erik's head abruptly protruded from the second storey window. "Hey! A little help?! It's time!" he shouted, waving emphatically with both arms before hastily ducking back inside.

Muttering something unladylike, Ellie spun about on her heel. "Alright, priorities. Somebody toss this guy in a dimensional hole and we'll deal with him later, alright?"

"Ah, I really do not think--" Nassor began to protest, looking between Stesha and Mara uneasily.

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Stesha looked to Mara, then grinned when the other heroine inclined her head in a "go ahead" gesture. "Don't worry, it's just for a little bit," she told Nassor, kneeling and putting a hand on his arm. With her other hand, she reached up and touched the flowers in her hair, and suddenly they were moving while standing still, long tunnels of green raced around them while the smell of warm grass filled the air. A second later, they were kneeling in the green grass of Sanctuary, in an open space larger than a football field, bounded by privet hedges easily fifteen feet high while an improbable transparent crystalline ceiling arched high overhead. She stood and extended a hand to help him up.

"This is a safe place," she told him. "There's food and some reading material on the shelves over by the south wall, and a set of privies off in the southwest corner. If you're really interested in digging, you might be able to get through the hedge in a couple of hours, but there are sixty-foot long bees outside who aren't fond of strangers, so I wouldn't advise that. There's also pretty much nowhere to go. With luck, everything will go smoothly and I'll be back to pick you up in just a few hours anyway," she concluded cheerfully. 

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Steve thought of fathers.

His own had bled to death in his arms, slowly, the stink of blood filling the air, drawing the foul cannibal scavengers that lurked among the proles, killing and breeding freely among the weak and helpless. He'd gone for his own knife to chase them away even as his father's face turned paler and colder, and had come back to find a cooling corpse of his sole remaining parent. He had been, by the standards of Earth-Prime, about thirteen. Gina Evans' was, by her account, a weak man who had allowed his wife to take her daughter in hand and reshape her into something she despised, leaving behind scars on the soul that had yet to fade. Dragonfly's was, from what he'd heard, a man who had done the same thing in his own grim way. 

Steve thought of secrets. 

Of the worlds where the Interceptors had been Freedom City's sole line of defense against the Terminus; worlds left burning to ash in the space of a single day upon the coming of Omegadrones. He thought of the sight of dead friends, and his hands around Erik's throat, and the questions that would never be asked about the debts that he could never repay. And he thought of Jean Pique of the Flaming Eye, wielding weapons that could destroy any host or defeat any foe, torn to pieces by the pikes of a dozen Omegadrones. A man who died with his family; defending his family. 

Steve thought of children. 

Of the life he had been born into on the streets of dread Nihilor. Of the child denied him by fate and circumstance. Of dead children - of so many dead faces that he had long since blotted out the places and names and last rattling breaths of all but a select few. Of the bottomless grief of the parent of a dead child; of the twisted wrath of a parent so maddened by love of the Doom Coil that they...no, no, he would not take that memory to this place, and think it before the eyes of this man. Of the knowledge that he would never be a father - and that this was a blessing, because what child untainted by horrors could look at him and _know_ him for what he was, and not recoil in horror? 

It was cold on the rooftop, and by now a grey wind had begun to blow that howled faintly amid the low buildings of the West End. 

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"Alright," sighed Geckoman as Stesha and Nassor vanished. "Man, it's weird when you get reminders that people you know are just way out of your weight class." He turned to Mara, frowning. 

"Cards on the table, while the Espadases deal with the baby, and before someone does something horribly rash. Their father is on the roof. I don't know quite why, but... I think he wants to help. Even though they don't really want it. He was just keeping watch." Chris waved his hands in a placating manner. "And I'm worried it'll get... rash. The man is, having only just met him now, an absolute ass, but I'd really rather we don't drag him over the coals here, and I reckon you're best placed to convince Erik and Ellie not to do the dragging."

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Dragonfly turned her head to look at Geckoman, but behind her faceplate the young woman's expression was indiscernable...at least, until she made an extremely odd noise that turned out to be her voice filter's corruption of a snort. The snort became a chuckle and the chuckle became laughter until, armor and all, the famously dry and nigh-humorless Dragonfly was hunched over as if bearing the weight of a joke her lizard-themed friend wasn't in on.

Still, it only took a moment to straighten back up and, uncharacteristically, pat Geckoman on the shoulder. "Yes. Sure," she said, in perhaps the least reassuring tone she was capable of. "Will..ahaheh...will prevent them from dragging their idiot father over coals. Why not. Will at least prevent them from killing him until Gina gets a piece."

She set back off toward the house, gesturing at her drone to follow. "Not actually sure where you can find coals around here," she mused, as if it was a perfectly reasonable think to wonder. "May have to run a search. In case it's needed."

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Geckoman stood now, alone in the street. Jean was on the roof, and he thought he could smell Steve's scent blowing down from it. Ellie and Erik were inside. Stesha and the Sword dude were... somewhere. And he was just stood there.

"You're not very reassuring!" he called after Mara. "And we don't have coal! It's archaic!" He sighed. "Just not reassuring," he mumbled to himself.

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"Truly? Nothing?" Jean Pique sighed in disbelief as he produced a fourth small dagger seemingly out of thing air and added it to the trio he was already masterfully juggling, a whirlwind of razor sharp metal dancing from palm to palm. His attempt at outlasting Steve's silence had lasted all of a minute before he'd begun trying to elicit a response from the stoic bald man. Just as quickly it was becoming clear to him that he wasn't going to make any headway with showmanship, either. With a final flourish the daggers disappeared back into one of his sleeves and he resumed his lean against the trellis looking archly annoyed. Pique had in his time done some fairly unpleasant things to some fairly unpleasant people and had equally unpleasant things done to him in turn but he was forced to admit that Steve's unrelenting stare was beginning to unnerve him. "Listen, mon amie, you seem a pleasant enough fellow but I'm not a man to be kept in... 'time out'." He straightened his posture and tugged on his shirt to tidy its lines before moving to enter the building through the nearby doorway. "If you will excuse me..."

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"How fortunate that I should have opportunity to experience your famous hospitality Lady Flower," Nassor drawled in a tone that managed to temper his weary resignation with some measure of amusement for the absurdity of his situation. Walking over to the wall of the enclosed area he retrieved a folded cot and set it up in short order. Sitting down on the edge he regarded the florakinetic with his hands folded in his lap. "Is it sad, do you think, that this is still going better than I had expected? Ah well. An opportunity for rest without the need to keep one eye open should not be wasted, certainly. I shall await you at your leisure, then." Sliding off his jacket and folding it into a makeshift pillow the well mannered Dakanan swung his feet up onto the cot and laid back, looking quite content, considering.

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Steve took a step back, further blocking the door with his broad shoulders, and shook his head. I could sit on him, he reflected. I would have to be careful not to injure him. He doubted that Erik or Ellie would object to the sight of their father in restraints, even physical ones. Rather than simply lash out, though, or even wait for an attack that he suspected would be imminent once the older man realized there was no way through the door without going through Steve himself, he realized he had a question. And I would always rather talk than fight. "Why are you here?" he asked Jean, a tone of honest curiosity in his slow, rumbling voice. "What does this mean to you?" 

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Shaking her head with a slightly bemused smile, Fleur touched the flowers in her hair and left him to his nap, teleporting back to the sidewalk outside the school. "He'll be fine there till everything is less hectic," she reported to Mara and Chris as she caught up to them. "I left him in my civilian shelter, he's already settling in. Do you think I should do the same thing to their dad? I mean, I can understand wanting to be around for your grandchild to be born, but I don't think we can trust that guy. And I think he's upsetting Erik and Ellie." She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Do you think I could put him and Nassor together in the shelter, or would they fight?" 

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"Think Erik and Ellie deserve to be upset," Dragonfly grimly observed, frowning up at the building where one of her drones reported Jean was currently standing. "Gina, too. Unsure what trade-off is, though: can't let him near birth of child, and Erik at least needs to focus on that. Could remove him temporarily, if they all want to focus better. Not necessarily better or worse than just letting Steve block him forever."

She made a grumbling noise, tapping a finger against her leg. "Probably don't put him with Nassor. Best case, they ignore each other - fine. Bad case, they fight - don't want then injured. Yet. Worst case, they collude somehow. Probably not worth the risk."

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"Alternate idea," said Chris, "Before we go hurling people into other dimensions, even for a teeny lil bit, you know nobody's actually asked him to leave, right?" He clasped both his hands behind his head in a stress gesture. "I mean, that guy and his buddies did a damn good job of trying to kill us. Nearly got me and Fulcrum too. Also some of the most terrifying come-on attempts I've ever seen, and I mean, it got weird." He dropped his hands to his side, and shrugged. "But... I mean, trying and failing to make up for past mistakes, I think that merits just trying to throw him out of the street before throwing him out of the world, y'know?

The Geckoman looked up at the roof. "Hell, if you want me to, I'll go ask him to do it. And if it turns nasty, I'll toss him off the roof for you to deal with. Fair compromise?"

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"Mean...?" Pique gave the bald man on the roof a closer look, something cool and dissecting about it in contrast to the Frenchman's effusive, even exaggerated geniality. "There is a story there I think I would perhaps be gladder not to hear, oui? Allow me, alors, to speak as plainly as I may." He gave Steve a little mock bow that only partially hid a change in the lines of his face that made the swordsman seem suddenly much older. "I am not a good man. I could give you excuses, certainement, 'mitigating factors', mais laisse tomber. There was a time I believed this could change, that I could live a different life but not so. Then I thought it better that Jean Pique should fade away, for their safety but this, too, was foolish." He gestured downward to the residents of the building they were standing atop and turned away from Steve in the same motion, less eager now to make eye contact with the stoic guard. "The politics, eh, I will not bore you but to attack my grandchild? Unforgivable!" Hands clenching into fists, he turned the word into a snarl, a history steeped in violence and retribution bubbling to the surface. "To underestimate an opponent is a grave sin, mon ami, but to go so far...! Bref, I should have been there. I could not take that risk again."

Squaring his shoulders and composing himself, Pique turned back to Steve with a hard, almost challenging look, steeled against whatever the larger man might say.

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Steve stared at Jean Pique, his hairless brows furrowing for a moment as he processed the man's words. Why are there so  many languages on Earth-Prime? "You will not go below. But you may join me on guard." He stared down at the old man and put weight into his words. "I have studied the attacks made by the House of Swords. They will not gain entrance here again." And indeed he had studied them - all of them. The tactics used by the House of Swords on their last attack would certainly have disabled his cybernetic components and thus left him completely helpless - but on the roof, able to see all, he could make sure that wouldn't happen now. He kept at his post, waiting for the other to turn his back first. 

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The analyzing look Jean had given the bald man returned, though this time it was less coolly calculating and more taking in the other man as a whole. A smile began to pull at the corner of the Frenchman's mouth, giving way to a laugh. "Heh. Hah! No, no I expect they will not. You would be doing me a courtesy to let me join you, mon ami," he agreed, giving Steve an ornate bow from the waist, flourishing both arms. He continued to look amused as he straightened and moved into a better vantage point to keep watch on the street below. "I don't think I can explain the joke without ruining it," he apologized off-handedly, shaking his head. "I do think I now understand why Nassor wished to speak with mon fils, however! Ils doivent être terrifiés...!"

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"Ils sont terrifiants," Dragonfly replied, hovering into view, armor lit from behind by four bladed wings of twisted space. "Et nous sommes aussi. Would really like to just throw you into a dark void for a while, but friend made a good case for...politeness. So, terms: you do not get to see children without parents' explicit approval. Non négociable, and you will not make it past all of us - any of us - if you try something."

There was a flicker of twisted space, like lightning, that ran up her wings - it was difficult to tell if it was good timing or done intentionally for effect. "Plus, Erik is a little busy, not going to let you bother him yet. So you can leave, or maybe you should spend some time talking to people who may want a word with you. Maybe start with Gina."

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Steve was left in an uncertain place by his boss's arrival - several bonds of obligation tugging at him at once. He actually looked away as she squared off with Jean, not quite able to look either of them in the eye. What do I say here? He could have handled a fight to incapacity on the rooftop with the old man - even if the incapacity was his own - better than this. Instead, he opted to say nothing for now, walking to the edge of the roof and scanning nearby buildings for signs of trouble. No ready foes presented themselves as a convenient escape - no combat would let him avoid the conversation taking place behind him. For the first time in a long time, he found himself addressing his parents in his mind. What would you think of them, mother, father? They raise their children in such luxury and freedom, but suffer from it even so. Is there to be no escape from the cold heart of man? 

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"I think Dragonfly's got it taken care of," Stesha told Chris with equanimity, watching the engineer take off for the rooftops. "I think maybe we should go on and get back inside. People are going to start getting hungry soon, I'll help you finish setting out all the food you brought." She headed back into the school and paused for a moment where Ammy and Eden were attempting to color on adjacent pages of a coloring book.

"Maamaaa!" Ammy whined, getting up and running over as soon as she caught sight of Stesha. "Eden keeps coloring on my page even when I tell her not to! It's all ruined!" She pointed a dramatic j'accuse  finger towards her small playmate, who seemed entirely unbothered. 

"I'm sure she doesn't mean to ruin your coloring," Stesha soothed, lifting Ammy to her hip and kissing her on the forehead. "Remember, she's littler than you and she doesn't know how to play the way you and the kids at the creche do. You have to be very understanding." She chuckled at Ammy's continued mutinous look. "How about you stop coloring for awhile and you can help me with the food? I think Mr. Geckoman brought us some cookies..." 

That was enough to have the frown disappearing. "Cookies!" Ammy crowed, squirming to get down. "I'm so hungry!" 

As Ammy ran for the table, Stesha looked over to Gina. "Everything still going okay in here?" 

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"Ah, la petite amie!" Jean's expression actually brightened briefly before falling back into the resigned and accepting expression of a man who was quite used to being berated with good cause. "Oui, très terrifiant tout autour. As I only now finished explaining to our hairless chum, I have no intention of making a bother of myself, ma chérie." Coughing lightly into his hand and turning slightly away from the armored woman he added, "I see no reason to burden Gina with my presence, sûrement." This was the closest either Steve or Mara had seen the Frenchman come to looking genuinely repentant, though he made an effort to mask his reaction with nonchalance. In a bald faced attempt to change the subject he affixed a smirk to his face and asked, "I understand you and ma fille have been quite close for some time, oui? When should I be expecting to not receive a wedding invitation?"

Inside the school Eden took advantage of Ammy being picked up to pilfer a few choice colours of crayon and continue working away at the seventh or eighth tree she'd drawn in what was quickly turning into a veritable forest. Wheeling over to her granddaughter Gina cleared her throat pointedly and waited until Eden looked up at her. "What did we say about sharing and asking first, niña?" she asked in a kind but stern tone until, with a pout, the toddler put the crayons back and went back to her collection of browns and greens. "Yes, of course," the elder Espadas told Stesha with a small smile that turned into a scowl when she looked toward the staircase. "I'm sorry you have to be here for our little drama, dear. Everything you've been through lately, this can't be helping."

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"Unsure why I'd tell you that," Dragonfly replied, with the flat tone of voice one might use to discuss the weather. "Defeats purpose of not inviting people. Grandstanding is for stupid villains and awesome science. Ellie might have a moment of sympathy when it comes up; I am not known for pity, though, and figure you've kind of waived those rights. Given opportunity, too, will ensure via security that you couldn't watch with anything less than a telescope."

She cocked her head, pausing, and sounded...amused? "Also, deflection works poorly on people with multiple conscious trains of thought. Unsure you're burdening Gina with your presence - don't blame you for being afraid of her, though. Unfortunate. Was looking forward to watching her run over you with her chair."

Edited by Fox
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