maskormenace | 𝜤 🔥 video

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[ The feed turns on shakily and abruptly, showing at first a view of mostly sky, but then it catches more blurry glimpses of scenery -- what might be recognizable as downtown Nonah, if someone were to squint or was just very familiar with the area by now -- as it moves again, as if being wrestled from someone. Voices can be heard above the fainter sounds of traffic, although there's the steady pulse of a nearby car stereo playing loudly and, occasionally, an engine revving.

Then the communicator steadies, being held at its owner's side; the camera now gives an un-aimed view the street, though at a somewhat diagonal, catching about half of the car in question in the shot. A guy's voice, about a foot away, says: "--the sickest shit I ever seen, man! Orale, show the guy, Angie!" And then the communicator moves again, the man holding it taking a step back as Angie breathes fire about five feet into the air. Only the fire and not Angie herself is visible on the screen, although within moments the speaker is stepping close again.

"You see that? It's legit, right? Just one selfie, man! Just one, come on!" ]

Then what, you'll finally beat it? [ Diablo's not speaking into the communicator, obviously, so his voice is muted, though still audible. ] I got nothing to say about no heroes, kid. Whatever you want? It ain't got nothing to do with me.

[ "Yeah, yeah, whatever! Damn, why you got to be such a bummer, dude?" The communicator raises again, rotating around to show two people: #1, a heavily tattooed man in a letterman-style jacket, "Diablo" embroidered on it like a nametag, looking impatiently at #2, who appears to be a teenager with slicked back hair ("AA" shaved into the sides), a lightning bolt tattoo on his neck, and large mirrored sunglasses. ]

Okay, how--

[ But, smiling delightedly, the boy waves into the camera, declaring: "Heeeey, imPorts! Que onda, stay crazy, guys -- we still believe in you! We got your backs now, so take it easy! Ride or die, man!" before he laughs and runs out of frame to join his off-screen friends; the car motor revs again. Diablo, still holding the communicator, does nothing for a moment except flick his eyes irritably and skeptically in that direction, then turns the camera around to capture the kids driving away. The car's plate reads "DOUBLE A". ]

Man, the hell was that. [ And now the camera once again rotates, his skeptical gaze gracing the screen. ] If that's what you all got around here, then no wonder they be importing in heroes like furniture.

[ Well... "heroes," as the still-dubious expression on his face may go on to suggest. He shrugs, then shakes his head. ]

But hey, y'know-- it's whatever. Anyone know where's a good shoe place around here?

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[ Oh, man, now that's familiar -- but everything else so far has already been familiar enough, too, that Diablo isn't that surprised; he's almost been expecting something like this.

The name Luthor also seems vaguely familiar, but only vaguely. Not enough for him to think about for longer than a moment. ]

What kind of program?

Task Force X. Enigmatic name for a program, I know, but it is for a good cause.

What?

[ Is this the Twilight Zone? ]

No kidding, that's a thing here too?

[A beat.]

"Here, too"? This is a fresh program, only recently establishing its roots -- am I to understand that you're familiar with the name?

[Just a name, however. Chilton would remain a little skeptical.]

Thought you said you already knew my history. You mean that ain't the reason you asking?

[ ???? He really doesn't get how this place works. ]

Yeah, I know it.

I can profile your history, I'm not claiming to know the details.

What was your program like? Your Task Force X?

[ He considers his response to that question very carefully. ]

Community service.

Vague answer. [A beat.] And you had a recruitment process?

Something like that.

[ He wouldn't, but it's easier to just split the difference; he almost doesn't care anymore, these things might as well happen. ]

What's your program actually about?

[Wryly:] Community service.

Luthor and I consider it vital to pool certain, uniquely talented imPorts for addressing... Delicate circumstances. Specialized circumstances.

[ Rather than be derisive -- because talking back certainly wouldn't done him any favors on the other team, nor is it his impulse any longer to be difficult just for the hell of it -- Diablo considers his response carefully. It's not no good had come from the last go of it, but for the most part it had been dangerous, it had been questionable, and he'd been forced into participation from day 1.

So it occurs to him that it might not be the worst idea in the world to try and stay ahead of that sort of situation now. ]

You mean like ex-cons, right? That kind of unique talent? [ Not accusatory; just calling it like he knows it is. ] Okay -- so sell it to me, then. I'm listening.

Well -- not exclusively ex-cons. But... We are seeking redemption, aren't we? [Santana was perceptive, and quick to the point. Something that Chilton took careful note of.] For our whole community. We would be working closely with governmental initiative, all sanctioned, for the opportunity of our community as imPorts.

After all, regardless of where you came from, this is what you have now. Best take care of it on your own terms.

Cons and anyone fool enough to trust working with them, huh? That's a tough sell -- you gonna have your work cut out for you, homie.

[ But like he said, he's listening -- so, he listens, because he fully intends on doing just that. Taking care of it on his own terms, since apparently he now actually has that luxury. ]

Sounds like you taking the community service part pretty serious. So what are the terms, then? Ain't counting on no salary, but, you know... ain't agreeing to nothing 'til I know we all ain't just gonna be made into weapons, either.

You will not be weapons, no. [Leverage, maybe. Especially if Chilton could render the government dependent on his task force.] You have noticed, no doubt, that not every imPort is equipped to handle explosive situations. Either literal or psychological ones.

Every team member will be responsible for a particular area. Every team member will track certain dubious groups, and every team member will be expected to take precise action against growing and apparent threats. We are intended to be preventive medicine, after all.

[ As much as Diablo is not in love with the idea of being involved with this at all, at least there's a choice this time. That's the first important thing. It's not ideal, though typical, that he's even in a position to make this choice at all, or that it actually strikes him as a wiser choice than staying uncommitted and essentially sitting around just waiting to be forced into something far worse later.

He knows it would happen that way, too; seems better to choose the lesser of two potential evils while he still has enough freedom to, in that case. It's... something to think about. To figure out. ]

Against what? Terrorists, gangs... I dunno, the mafia? [ He sounds skeptical, perhaps even a bit flippant, though it's a genuine enough question all the same. ] Ourselves?

I mean, all right, I'm thinking about it -- ain't no small thing to say yes to, though.

Just think on it, that is all I ask.

[Though notably he does not supply an answer to Diablo's questioning. ImPorts tended to police other imPorts; Chato was right to ask that line.]

Call my on my private number, when you've made your decision. We cannot always trust this Network.

[ It made sense; that's what Task Force X had wound up doing last time, too, though of course Diablo would prefer the same scenario not play out again. A nightmare of a situation, Hell on Earth, except for his teammates -- they were okay. Mostly.

He does note that Chilton doesn't actually answer, but that's fine; he didn't expect an answer, not really. Not now, or here. ]

Yeah? Exactly how bugged they got us?

It is impossible to know. [And his own vagueness would, hopefully, only feed whatever paranoia he could immediately stoke.] Why gamble when we needn't?

[ He says nothing, just sort of makes a brief contemplative -- though also irritated -- hmming noise ]

Fine -- all right. I'll let you know. [ Still kind of surreal. ] But you really gonna need something to actually sell people on it. Other people. You know, like benefits.

And what sort of benefits would you suggest?

[ ... Hm. ]

You can leave that part to me -- I'll come up with something.

[He thinks on that, feeling the precipice of disaster, but is nevertheless willing to leave that carte blanche open.]

All right. Get back to me with your ideas. We'll continue talks then.

Yeah, all right, man. You got it.

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𝜤 🔥 video

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