maskormenace | video | a finer world, part 2

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video | a finer world, part 2

[ Does this guy ever broadcast to the network from ground level?? APPARENTLY NOT because here's Apollo with yet another video message from somewhere dizzyingly high, this time sat on top of a brightly lit neon encrusted building in the heart of Jeopardy. Over his shoulder the sun sets over the desert in a picture perfect background landscape of bright pinks and oranges, but Apollo looks pensive despite the dreamy setting. He's been keeping an eye out for the so-called ghosts, you see, and maybe remembering a few ghosts of his own in the process. ]

An old friend once told me that saving the world is no good if we leave it the way we found it. She said 'saving the day shouldn't be the same as preserving the status quo'. Because what's the point in saving the world if you make no effort to change it? To make it better than it was?

That's why I joined her team, back home. I wanted to save the world and change it for the better. None of us could have done it alone but as a group... [ He trails off, turning a little wistful. ] As a group we were formidable.

But I know most of the teams currently operating here - [ you know who you are ] - are all pretty much Registered-only affairs. And that's fine if you're the Registering type...

[ Apollo's expression turns grim. Or as grim as you can look when surrounded by neon pink signage. ]

Personally? I've got no intention of swearing my loyalty to the government just because they want tame superheroes. But I still want to make a difference and if being a so-called vigilante is what it takes, then... I guess we'll see what happens next.

So consider this an open call. Is there anyone else out there who's Unsettled and wants to do their bit to save the world?

[ And yeah, maybe change it a little bit too. He hopes you're happy, Jenny Sparks. ]

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[ Midnighter's embrace tightens and Apollo realises just how long and lonely these past three years have actually been. He feels M's words more than hears them - a dull vibration against his back, the tickle of warm breath at his nape - and although he isn't entirely listening to what M is saying Apollo finds himself humming a soft noise of understanding in response.

Words fail him, and not for the first time in his life. Apollo had been stony and silent when Midnighter left and now, three years later, he's just as silent. But this time it's other emotions that leave him bereft: anger, yes, but sadness and guilt too.

But, Jesus Christ, despite all that? It's good to be hugged. The reassuring pressure of arms around him - both familiar and strange all at once - is something Apollo has missed terribly. Painfully. So much so that it's irresistible to turn in Midnighter's embrace, gently manoeuvring the other man's arms to give him enough space to turn and return the hug. To envelop the younger man in his own arms, to properly hold Midnighter and be held in return, to anchor himself properly to the one thing in this ridiculous world that even begins to make sense to Apollo. He sighs, hands gathered loosely in the small of Midnighter's back, then whispers: ]

Thanks.

[As Apollo shifts around, a small voice in the back of M's head warns him that this isn't right. This isn't Andrew, this man is married, and maybe they're getting a little too comfortable too quickly. But it quickly gets drowned out by the inward reminder that M knows this isn't Andrew, and that Apollo needs the encouragement right now. What's the harm in actually doing this emotion thing right and helping out a friend?

The fact that the other man's warmth is coming off him in waves, or that he feels... safe in the alternate Apollo's embrace doesn't mean anything at all.

Little voice be damned, he firms up his grip.]

Careful now, you're supposed to be the strong one.

[ For the first time in three years, Apollo remembers how good it is to be held. Even with his arms looped so lightly, so comfortably, around the other man he can notice the difference between M and Midnighter even more clearly now; M is well built in his own way, more svelte than the stocky weight of his husband. But he's just as solid and sure and reassuring, especially with the way his grip tightens just that little bit. Apollo finds himself relaxing, fraction by fraction, as the anger ebbs away.

What the fuck is he doing? Apollo isn't entirely sure. But he manages a quiet, breathless laugh at Midnighter's joke and presses a cheek flush against his temple with a sigh. ]

Apollos are only as strong as the Midnighters beside them.

[For a split second, M's instincts told him to lean up and kiss the other man's chin, but then he felt Apollo's hair brush against his and he snapped out of it. This isn't Andrew, he reminds himself, this time a bit more firmly.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[The porter could turn him into a liar tomorrow, he knows that all too well, but he also knows that, as conflicted as he feels right now, he won't turn his back on this older man for as long as they were both there.]

Good.

[ It's a pretty lie, Midnighter's promise. For all their combined strengths and powers there is literally nothing either of them can do to prevent it - and isn't that just another kick to the stomach? Apollo hates how helpless he is - that was the problem in the first place - and this is just another reminder. But it's nice to pretend otherwise.

And the longer he lingers in Midnighter's embrace the more he notices details; the grate of stubble isn't quite like what he's used to, the unexpected brush of M's faint mohawk cut. He even notices one particular thing - something that's off, unnatural, unexpected - that has him withdrawing, pulling back in alarm so that he can stare at M in dismay. ]

Oh, shit - [ He presses one warm hand to M's chest and feels the beat beneath the fabric. ] You've only got one heart?

[M blinks at the sudden loss of contact, taking a moment to register the question as his body processes other, more pressing concerns: where did the heat go? why isn't silver hair still tickling his nose? how is this still somehow the best possible outcome given the situation they're throwing themselves in?]

Should I get a few more for posterity?

[ Apollo shakes his head with a soft laugh. ]

No, no. You're fine.

[ The hand on M's chest lingers as Apollo focuses on the strong beat of the other man's single heart. Something like that would be a cause for alarm were he his alternate version, but Apollo forces himself to relax. It's fine. It's different, but it's fine. He shakes his head again, admitting: ]

It's just - you're really not the same men, either of you...

[ And now, more than ever, Apollo isn't sure what to make of that. Slowly the hand falls away and Apollo's expression turns pensive as he seeks out Midnighter's gaze. ]

I'm sorry I didn't always remember that.

[Instinct tells him to place his hand over Apollo's as the older man feels his apparently unsatisfactory single heart beating, but with the moment having so thoroughly passed, it's easy to ignore. He opts to distract his would-be roving hand by using it to play with the hem of his pants instead.

M's gaze meets Apollo's, head tilted ever so slightly to the right.]

I didn't think you were... Confusing us, I mean.

[It should probably him apologizing to Apollo instead. Wasn't he the one who went and made things awkward by choosing to embrace him? He can't bring himself to do it though, the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that he did it because he cared about the older man, and that he would have done the same thing to Andy or Archie or Magnus, and the fact that he was an alternate of Andrew certainly, definitely did not play a part in his decision at all. Why should he apologize for attempting to be a good friend?]

No? [ Apollo gives him a pained smile. ] Even after I stood in this very room and yelled at you for things you've never done?

[ Yes, he's still annoyed with himself for that one. The entire conversation had been awful from start to finish, a relentless storm of emotions that Apollo had been perfectly happy to keep buried for now. It hadn't been fair. Apollo knows that.

But, God, it was hard. M was different, yes, and they weren't the same man, no, but there were so many little details that Apollo couldn't ignore. His gaze breaks away from M's, roving across the planes of the other man's face. M's face lacks the lines of his husband's - lines that Apollo loved, even now - but there were other details. The curve of his cheekbone. How young and alive his eyes are. The short, fuzzy edge of that (still slightly ridiculous) haircut at his temples. He lifts his hand again, instinctively wanting to cup Midnighter's cheek and run a thumbpad along that temple, but Apollo catches himself midway. It turns in to a faltering shoulder pat instead. ]

Changed my mind, you should get another heart. [ His words are light, faintly teasing; it's far better to joke about these things. 'Just go to the store and pick up a backup heart, will you?' The hand on M's shoulder squeezes meaningfully. ] Wouldn't want to lose you, would I? Now that you've promised.

[M just shakes his head, believing that to be the right response. It didn't bother him, after all. Not entirely. After what he did to his Apollo, getting yelled at by another was the least he deserved. To say nothing of the fact that the other asshole wasn't available to be justifiably yelled at... why not him?

It's the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it? Face the consequences for shitty actions.]

ImPort bullshit, remember? Not my first time.

[He wishes knowing the right way to respond to these sorts of things came easier to him; he knows that there are probably things that he could do or say to make the situation better. Even as the older man attempts to hide his body language under the guise of humor with an awkward shoulder pat that the fight computer was convinced was going to be more, M can see the inner turmoil written in the tension of his shoulders, and the smile that doesn't reach nor mask the insecurity in his eyes.

M tries to ignore the growing feeling that he's somehow made another social faux pass as he too fakes a grin]

Mind finding out if there's a God Garden orbiting the planet? If so I can get right on it. If Gardener isn't up there it's going to take a bit longer but I'm sure the imPort population has a few rogue mad scientists floating around.

[ He chuckles gently at that, but mentioning the Gardener only really serves to remind Apollo that it was mad scientist creators that he'd come here to discuss in the first place. And somehow they'd ended up... here. Wherever 'here' was, emotionally. He shakes his head, as if to dispel the unhappy thought, reluctantly pulls away.

The tender moment is gone. He'd gotten angry, Midnighter had comforted him, as any good friend would. Good friend, not husband, no matter how much Apollo wishes --

God, he doesn't even know what he wishes anymore. None of this was straightforward. Apollo can't help but feel guilty (a stupid emotion - why the fuck should he feel guilty?) for whatever it is that he doesn't know he wishes could happen here. Hesitantly he rubs at the back of his neck, putting space between them although he doesn't really want to do so.

Focusing on the joke is easier. ]

Just stick a few flyers around De Chima. Rogue mad scientists are probably a dime a dozen in this world, let's face it.

[M can feel the conflicting emotions coming off Apollo in waves, even if he can't exactly place them or know what's causing it. He just knows that it's him (it has to be him), and he's not sure how to fix that.

How can he change something when he doesn't even know what he did?

Still, he can't bring himself to question the other man about it, because he can't help but feel that if he ever learned the specifics, it would spell the end for--

What were they? After a beat, the word "friends" finally comes to mind, but it's several seconds too long for M's tastes. He shouldn't have to think about this.

M busies himself by petting the white tiger who came over to investigate the awkward scene before her.]

You find 'em, I'll schedule the surgery right after.

I'll see what I can do.

[ The stupid joke continues. Apollo laughs, if only because they sure both know that the first person to try to cut Midnighter open would probably end up with a broken hand from M or incinerated by Apollo. Even for an additional heart.

He lapses in to silence and suddenly the distance between them feels greater again, even with the white tiger between them. Apollo's gaze roves around the room briefly, searching for another reason to linger in M's company, before settling on the pool table. He nods towards it. ]

Found anyone dumb enough to play against you recently?

[M follows Apollo's gaze to the pool table, his face and arms still buried in Fubuki for the distraction. He hugs the white tiger, grateful for her knowing something was up, even if the people in the room don't know what exactly that something is.]

A few, but no one worth my time.

[ It's funny, they'd talked about pool the first time that Apollo had broadcasted to the network. And here he was the second time round, looking thoughtfully at that pool table and debating whether sacrificing his dignity was worth having an excuse to stay in M's company just that little bit longer.

He smiles privately to himself. Who the fuck is he kidding? ]

Oh, come on then.

[ He heads toward the pool table. It was inevitable, really. Stupid to fight it. ]

Show me how it's done, or something.

[M rubs his face against the tiger's neck before getting up.]

Do you know anything about pool?

I've played before. A few times, actually.

[ Surprisingly, not against Midnighter. Apollo's dignity has a stronger sense of self-preservation than that (usually). He shakes his head ruefully as he approaches the table, reaching out to skim a hand along the felt. ]

Jack thought he was some kind of pool shark. I know you don't know the guy but that was such a Jack thing to think.

I knew a Jack that was with us back in Stormwatch. Pretty sure he was too busy fucking cities in his head or something to actually play pool.

[M can't say him and Jack got pretty close, though he wasn't a bad guy. No one in Stormwatch was.

He had to leave for his own reasons, not because of them.

Still, he's not here to reminisce about old times. M picks a cue stick off his wall and offers it to Apollo.]

So show me what you got.

Oh, so you do know the guy after all.

[ Although fucking cities in his head is a little more out there than Apollo was expecting. He takes the cue with a murmur of thanks and feels the heft of it; it's a little shorter than his reach, but that's fine. He knows he's going to lose anyway!

He sets the cue ball in place, lines himself up, pauses to eye the triangle of balls at the other end of the table, and makes his break with a sharp movement. The pool balls break away with a crack, skittering around the table. ]

Humor me and pretend to be impressed, won't you? [ He jokes as he straightens up and watches where the balls end up. ] It'll do my ego some good.

Jack Hawksmoor's a member of your "Authority"?

[He tries to imagine Jack trying to make the world a better place. Jack's a damn good cop, for lack of a better word, but he doesn't exactly have that kind of initiative in him.

He watches Apollo move, realizing not for the first time how differently this older version is built than Andrew. He's taller, broader, and more muscular... and he's definitely overcompensating for the cue he was given. M pulls a slightly longer one off the wall.]

Try this one instead.

[M watches the balls break, and a few slide into the pockets.]

I'm already impressed.

Member, leader, president of the United States...

[ Apollo gratefully exchanges cues with Midnighter before surveying the table; joking or not, he still allows himself a private smile at the compliment. He nods at the nearest pocket, where one of the balls ended up (mostly accidentally). ]

That was a fluke, by the way.

[ He lines up his next shot; there are no particularly easy targets to sink in to pockets, so he just sends the cue ball in to a small cluster of balls and sends them flying around the table, just to mix them up a bit. ]

[M nearly chokes. Again, Jack's a damn good cop, but president?!]

Did he lose a bet?

[He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the view, standing off to the side and out of the way so Apollo can do his thing.]

Don't be so humble.

No, he just looked the best in a suit and tie.

[ Apollo's joking of course. Jack put himself in charge of the Authority when the century ticked over and nobody ever really had an issue with it. Not until it was too late, of course.

He glances at the table; his random shot didn't work, but he hadn't really expected it to. Apollo gestures grandly. ]

The table is yours.

Let me guess, a funny joke because he's usually wearing a suit and tie.

[His did, anyway.]

You sure?

[ He leans a hip on the edge of the pool table which to its credit doesn't creak even a little bit. Apollo shrugs, glancing at the balls scattered across the green velvet. ]

I didn't pocket anything that second time. Go ahead.

[ He grins. ]

You do know that if you miss any you have to hand in your Midnighter club card, right?

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