Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

[Karl the Mad]

Katherine did her best to hide her amusement at Bert's discomposure. "Being on the Accords isn't all fun and games, you know, but the benefits are substantial," she explained. "In any case, recognizing your species would open them up to prosecution for their crimes, contemporary and historical. And while I'm sure you didn't have anything to do with what some Auger or Chamberlain did 500 years ago, people might still take the blame out on you, just because you've got tentacles where a mustache should be."

Nami's arrival drew Charles' eye, and he watched her distractedly for a few moments. He wasn't usually into Asian girls, but something about her upbeat attitude was interesting nonetheless. He looked away before anyone could accuse him of creeping, though.

[IamLEAM1983]

"Likewise," nodded the toymaker. "I may not be sensitive to magic, but I'll confess to having followed your and mister Robertson's relationship, since it was made public. "Far be it from me to invoke unpleasant memories, but my people and I are attempting to find points of equivalence between ourselves and the world's wider flora, fauna and overall ethnic diversity. At your convenience, I would ask of Bertram or Helena to collect a saliva sample of yours on my behalf, for gene sequencing."

He hesitated. "You've yet to meet miss Rivas - she is our community's self-defense instructor, and also uses her Flesh Mask to impart her skills to others in her neighborhood. In some sense, she was to Dalarath what you once were to Gregory Rendell: a prized commander and standard-bearer. Gender dysphoria had been hounding her for some time, however, so at the end of a dangerous series of attempts at self-alteration, she was forced into slavery. We called to her, and she came."

Bertram, in the meantime, scoffed lightly at Katherine's offered details. "Honestly, I'd put myself in cuffs if it gave me, or others like me, a chance at living a normal life. Prosecution is something I'll gladly face, even if it means being treated like one of you means being treated as a criminal or a prisoner."

Dave's response was a tad more sober. "If the Augur has faults or crimes to admit to and if the stories about him and Meris are true, he's the one who's in the best possible position to expiate his species' sins. As to the one who should pay in blood, I think we can all agree that it's the Chamberlain. In all the stories I've heard, Nereus feels like he's being held hostage by Chambers, like he's forced to use Renewal's final Layer of Ascension as a means to increase the cult's cultural and political hold over the West Coast. You get called down to Napa Valley to meet the head honcho and you're already half-broken by all the fasting, rituals and propaganda - and then Thanos taps the proverbial trepanning hammer one final time. You walk out a few days later, looking like Tom Cruise after six Red Bulls, joyful as shit and high off of the promise of the world's eventual annihilation. Half the time, Thanos doesn't even do it himself. He sits back and sulks while Chambers finishes you off."

The back door's bell chimed again, and in walked a slightly burnished woman of Latino extraction, her hair cut short and her frame bony, if still fairly solid. She was on the tall side, averaging six feet, and carried a sports bag slung over a shoulder. She had full lips and surprisingly hard eyes - as well as a fading echo of masculinity about her features. Something about her chin, perhaps, that gave weight to Gammell's explanation while still suggesting a recently-discovered and embraced beauty all its own.

"Sorry," she told the group, her voice a bit hoarse - honeyed whiskey on her lips. "Had a Second Dan class to finish up, scholarship papers to square away. Couldn't peel my Mask off. Hey Bert, where can I drop my stuff?"

Miles blinked, having apparently never seen Helena carrying some dojo essentials. The woman sighed in response. "Yeah," she said, "I've got sweaty uniforms to drop off at the laundromat.
- Don't kids pay for their own uniforms?
- Not the babies," replied Rivas, as she dropped her sports bag and unzipped her coat. "Not the kids whose parents figure earning bruises makes for a fun extracurricular, either. My scholarship kids - my actual students? They don't need the help."

Bertram blinked, while Helena stuck her coat on a peg, not too far from the table they'd eventually use. Underneath it, she was wearing a loose grey sweater, tight jeans and knee-height combat boots. Something to the set of the sweater suggested she was wearing a wife beater or a halter top of some persuasion, underneath.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes, "I haven't taught them Arbiter stuff, Bertram. The last thing Hope needs is a bunch of half-brainwashed semi-pro karatekas pushing Non-Euclidian forces through bludgeons or sticks. As long as this isn't over, the only guy in this room who I'd trust with one of my old sticks is this guy," she said, pointing at Charles.

Only then did she nod at Meris and George. "McConmara, Gammell," she said, nodding. "Where's the pizzas? I'm starving."

[TennyoCeres84]

After Helena came in and hung her things, Aspasia shrugged and said to George, "The reason for your wanting to sequence my genes is somewhat different from Goliath Corp's. Originally, I was never meant to reach full maturity. Titania had merely asked if the fertilized embryos were viable, and Henry Smith wanted to capitalize on that for medical research, which is understandable due to our rather robust DNA. I and the other Chimeras paid our biological debts to John Smith and Goliath Corp by supplying whatever bodily fluids or tissues they required. They've recouped their initial financial losses, from when the canisters were taken."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Your request is similar, but you're doing so in order to better the lives of all Animates, rather than trying to protect a company's profits and reputation through good intentions."

Meris gestured to the boxes that had been placed on an empty table, still within their insulated bags and plates beside them. "Right over there, Helena. I don't know what your salt intake has been, but I've brought some sea salt that you can add to some water, since you just got out of the dojo."

Nami had felt someone's eyes on her, but Charles had averted his gaze in time for her not to notice. However, given that they hadn't been properly introduced, the Nephilim approached him with a smile. "Hi, I'm Nami Urakawa. You're Charles Jenkins, right?"

The white-haired Transgenic noticed the martial artist and nodded to her, smiling. "Hello, I'm Aspasia Robertson."

[Karl the Mad]

This guy? Charles wondered. Someone else who knew him before he knew them, apparently. How rude! But no, someone was coming up to be polite to him. "Sure'n I am, lass," he replied, offering his hand. "Pleasure's all mine, aye?" An angel and changeling's kid... she probably had a lot of mojo in her little finger, he figured.

He liked girls with mojo.

Katherine consulted her phone again. "Mary's five minutes away, she says," she reported, putting it away again. "Please pardon me if I seem rude, there's a lot going on and I have to keep up," she explained, patting her phone in its pocket.

[IamLEAM1983]

George settled with nodding his assent, after which Aspasia greeted Helena. The still-masked Squid's response was as direct as her demeanor suggested.

"Hey," she said, "nice work, back in the seventies. A little more and it would've been you Chimeras duking it out against the idiots back home. I'd say you dodged a bullet when you defected."

She shook the Transgenic's hand briefly while also slipping a hand towards one of the pizza boxes."Thanks, boss," she said, glancing in Meris' direction. "Salt's not much of a concern at this point; I just spent four hours working eight kids through the katas they'll need for their final exams, plus throwing and punching routines. Proteins are what I need for now."

Her voice was a little flat, as though she were more used to anger or to an affected sense of distance. Considering her past, that had probably once been a life-saving habit to develop. Still, while holding a slice of pie in an almost-folded paper plate, she bent down and unzipped her sports bag, pulling out what looked like one of a pair of over-sized claves. The stick was heavily rubberized, but it still looked like it would be an effective club or bludgeon in someone's hand.

She handed it to Aspasia. "Macaratu," she said. "Brazilian dueling sticks. I started out with these when I left Dalarath; they were a good transition point for someone who'd only used Arbiter cudgels before. The natives use it to hold capoeira beats and they use it to bash one another's heads in when there's money or continued existence in it for them - which doesn't happen often. Most of the time, this is part of street performances or tourist shows. Clear sound, goes well with handclaps or a mestre's instructions."

Rivas shrugged, a bit of a smile touching her features. She looked like someone who'd benefit from learning to smile more often - or at least, her Flesh Mask did.

"Never was much of a musician or a dancer, myself."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia hefted the staff in her hands, old instincts analyzing it much like she had the chopsticks. She appeared as though she was recalling old data, with her lips bearing just a tinge of weariness. "After I left my incubation tank, I remember training with staffs similar to these in the first few months of my life and surpassing my kin. I was made for more long-distance targets, so I feel more at home with a sniper rifle, throwing knives, or a bow. Mingle that with a lot of kickboxing and standard CQC. Thankfully, I balanced that with some ingrained medic training," she said with a smirk and a scoff.

"Music was more of a saving grace and an eventual talent than anything else, compared to what Rendell had programmed into my mind. The music the people here on Earth sent up to Elysium might've been part of what helped bypass those damn migraines Issacs implemented into us. However, being around Coach influenced me to learn the harmonica and the violin."

Bearing a dazzling smile with pearly whites, Nami glanced back at her dad and then back to Charles. "I overheard you asking about Gabriel being here, but I thought you might find some anecdotes about Heaven's general a good way to pass the time. See, he trained me when I was a kid, in case I ever needed to evade the more zealous types in Heaven."

[Karl the Mad]

Charles hesitated, glancing from Nami to Matriel and back again. He had a lot to say on the subject of ol' Gabe, but part of his mind insisted Nami was just a kid and didn't need to hear any of that stuff. After a few moments he sighed and shrugged. "I... I just wanna rail on 'im fer a while, s' all. There was this guy Azardad, yeah? An' 'e fucked me up fierce, not like I weren't fucked up before."

"Maybe she already knows that story, boss?" Abraham said, appearing at Jenkins' shoulder.

[TennyoCeres84]

Nami shrugged. "Meris gave me a basic run-down about you, Azardad, and Gabriel. As for railing on him, well, he's got a really long long fuse. I mean, he'd have to with all the political bureaucracy and conflicts that go on between the planes. I don't know how much retaliation he'd give you, unless you kept on about it," she admitted.

[Karl the Mad]

Charles was abruptly frustrated. "I know!" he vented, clenching his fists. "But, dammit! My life's been shit since '65, when X did 'is implant shit t' me! I ain't mad at that'n n' more, but I'm still all twisted up inside 'bout it an' I ain't th' sort t' load around chattin' 'bout m' problems. I gotta be doin' shit, movin' 'n fightin', that's me catharsis." He paused and took a breath. "Besides... a guy like Gabe, who I can't really hurt? I don't hafta 'old back against 'im, I c'n go All Out 'n use every trick 'n technique I ever 'ad in me. Fights like 'at don't come aroun' much, boys 'n girls, an'... an' I kinda been lookin' forward ter it."

"Are you sure you couldn't just talk this over with a psychiatrist?" Katherine asked.

Jenkins shook his head. "I tried, 'n I'd always slip into th' Black Speech. Ev'ry time. An' that ain't somethin' t' jus' throw around, not fer me."

[IamLEAM1983]

Hearing Charles, Bertram stepped up, while Helena gave the scarred veteran a look.

"You know, um, mister Jenkins... We could-"

Rivas stepped in. "He means I could probably take whatever it is you could dish out, and there's no way you'd scramble my brains with my own native idiom. Bertram might be overflowing with empathy, the last thing he hit probably was Dave's ass, after the last Pride parade."

Miles didn't look exactly miffed, as a slight grin profiled itself behind his tentacles. In the back, George coughed in one hand and rather visibly busied himself with picking out a slice of pizza.