Astro Rei

..

Bobby couldn’t even imagine the other prejudice he must go through on a daily basis so all he could do was just give his hand another squeeze, it wasn’t his place to comment on that. “A clone is wild. You know Laura, she’s exactly like Logan, the only difference is that she’s clearly a woman and latino.” Bobby shrugged. “I wonder what mine would be like.” He wondered quietly to himself.

Glancing down at his hand, he removed it and looked it over. “Yeah, my mutation has been acting up recently, I guess it’s doing it right now.” Bobby glanced around, seeing that people were way too busy to pay attention to them so formed a lump of ice in bid to try and expel the excess that caused said hand to briefly turn into ice before going back to normal. “This keeps happening. It’s part of why I came back early from my mission. I came so Jean could check me out but she’s so distracted at the moment due to that Wanda person.” 

.

“Laura’s nicer than Logan,” Berto commented in biting humor. The truth was that the thought of his clone’s appearance and the other musings pertaining to it – what would their personality be like? Did they know what they were? Resent him for it? – had him shuddering in discomfort. It had nothing to do with the lower temperature in the room.

“We can hope Xavier is watching it from Genosha and will evacuate them to his little island society. Otherwise, there are teleporters here capable of moving forces. Father wouldn’t let children be attacked like that even if Wonder Woman had gone mad and allowed it.” Of that he was sure. People had said a lot about Batman. Creepy, dark, evil, insane, vampire. But he had a soft spot for children in need. Father didn’t like sitting by while kids were afraid.

Scott Summers was an intense public figure for the mutants. He was a singularly focused man from all accounts. Damian had yet to meet him, but he could appreciate it. He’d someone how managed that rotating roster of X-Men. “Self-sacrificing, then? More likely to burn out as well.” Batman had Alfred to help with that. He wondered about the systems within the X-Men to keep Summers from burning himself out on the treadmill of fighting for and against mutants.

“The world needs idealists. They create dreams. Discover the unknown. But they don’t know how to manage them. I suppose we fit into that category. Those who actually make real.” Even if that made them less liked. Berto seemed… charming enough. He wondered if the man struggled with being liked at all.

“As much as I’m sure he’s paying close attention to our children, it’s always nice to know that we can count on more of you.” Not that he ever doubted that, the mutants simply tended to keep to themselves. Berto hadn’t been used to interacting with other types of heroes until the Nomads. “Cyclops is a powerhouse and we aren’t short on self-sacrificing fighters, but you do have a point. I’ve seen him have those meal replacement drinks instead of actually eating something and I think that’s dreadful.”

…

Bobby knew he was stalling but wanted Berto to feel comfortable to talk to him about stuff like this now they didn’t have that teacher/student dynamic between them. When he started to open up, Bobby listened, nodding in the right places. “I know. People just can’t leave us alone, some of them are curious and some are straight up afraid of us overtaking the ‘regular’ humans up to the point where there’s been some plans over the years to try and wipe us out, but knowing you had a clone out there must be pretty confusing.” he reached out and placed a cool hand on Berto’s warmer one for a brief moment to offer some comfort. 

.

Berto pursed his lips at the memories. Yes, he had some experience with the anti-mutant radicals, considering that they had gone after him as soon as his powers first manifested. They – with members of the Hellfire Club at the forefront – were responsible for the greatest tragedy in his life, the attack that cost Juliana’s life.

“It’s not the only part of me that has faced prejudice because people can’t deal with differences,” he commented, aware of his position in the world. If not for his money, he could have had a much less fortunate life, and even that couldn’t shield him from everything. “But a clone was definitely unexpected.” His eyes followed the movement of Bobby’s hand, the cold touch stark in comparison to his ability to pull in warmth from any available source. An odd sensation. “Are you using your powers right now? I could swear it used to be easier to tell the difference in your temperature between resting and training.”

Rahne giggled a little at that, shaking her head. Berto had always caused the most drama in their group by virtue of his impulsive acts but he was right - it would have been a cause for worry if he didn’t do such a thing now and then. That was who he was, after all. She just wasn’t sure if she was that sort of person.

His counter-offer was enough. Rahne nodded gently and stepped up to look again, reaching out to touch some soft fabrics, erring to earth-tones and neutrals. Something nice but not too eye-catching. She thought that would be a good compromise, if nothing else. “Where are we going?” She asked

Berto remained to the side, leaving space for her to choose. He understood that she wouldn’t pick anything too flashy on her own and he wouldn’t push clothes that didn’t fit her style at her, but he hoped to give her the comfort of nice fabrics. It was a careful balance they tiptoed around.  

“Thank you.” Damian nodded to him, breezing along pas the comment. He did take it as a compliment, but one that was expected. Like being told he was so handsome, or he was quite bright. It didn’t really register as anything more than someone noticing the color of his hair. “It make sense, I suppose, to give them even basic training. All things considered they’ll need it. With the ISA given essentially free reign to do as they please to anyone who might register as a potential threat to the system of government owned heroes.” There wasn’t a politician in Gotham that Damian didn’t think could be bought off in a week, the idea of them controlling where Batman could go and when was a nightmare.

“A good leader wouldn’t need an angry mob. They have a loyal one, certainly. A well trained one if they intend to do battle. But an angry mob is an uncontrolled mob to be let loose as the front lines that will be mowed down. They’re cannon fodder and pawns. I’m told good people don’t use others that way.” Sometimes Damian saw sides of his father that were not good. That did not align with the strict moral code he practically hammered into him. Stephanie, for one. But his father at least seemed to regret those actions. Maybe regret was enough. 

“No, I do try to avoid American government plants. Granted the probability of him still working for them is slim, but I’d rather not have him,” Damian paused to wave his hand back and forth, searching for the word, “motivate at me. An evil person can still give a speech mean to inspire not enrage.”

“I don’t know how they have been handling things at the Institute now. If the ISA starts suspecting they’re training these kids for something other than self-defense...” He pondered. Berto didn’t believe that someone like Lex Luthor would get caught attacking literal children, mutant or not, but there were many ways of going about it. With the Brotherhood dissolved and Magneto in Genosha, they couldn’t pin it on them, making a narrative of intraspecies violence more difficult to spread.

“They do not. Should not, at least. I've never had that impression of Xavier, in spite of the times we have disagreed. Scott Summers is also a good leader, if a little... square. Intense, too, and he puts mutant needs above anything else in his life.” He worried, sometimes, if Scott would think that he wasn’t doing enough for their people. Berto needed to keep a public persona away from them if he wanted to remain in charge of his company, doing his moves from behind the scenes instead.

Rahne was thankful to leave the topic of Dani behind, even if the alternative one was just as thorny for her. Dani in particular was a source of confusion. The other girl brought her such joy, a warmth that spread through her at every turn, but there was always a deep-seated shame there. She knew what it was. She imagined everyone else did too. They didn’t have to discuss it. It would just make everything harder.

Her head tipped a little. She had never been good at metaphors but they were talking in such a tone, something quiet and curious and probing, that she wondered if maybe that was what was going on. “But it means that everything that doesn’t fit me any more is ruined for anyone else,” she tried quietly. Her cheeks flushed at his last suggestion and she bit back any judgemental remarks. She was getting better at that. “I’d be too afraid still.”

“I’m not so sure. People tend to like someone’s wilder side. Would I still be me if I didn’t act on impulse sometimes?” Berto aimed a grin at her. To be fair, many of his impulsive acts and fiery temper had caused the New Mutants problems in the beginning, but he figured those had quieted down to fond headshaking and sighs of ‘oh, there he goes again’.

…

“You don’t need to say anything,” Mia interjected, quickly, bouncing up once on the balls of her feet as the words practically ran out of her mouth. This was far from her first time having this conversation, probably wouldn’t be the last, but it wasn’t a topic that got easier with time. There was always that trickle of fear that was impossible to ignore when Mia let the HIV secret out of the bag, fear of the reaction and judgement that could come with her admittance. It sucked. It would never stop sucking. She was living with it, pushing forward rather than wallowing, but it still sucked. She could keep things from sucking more by taking care of herself and making sure that her health stayed within the right parameters, but there would always be a base level of suck to deal with.  But then he did say something, and Mia was somehow able to hear him even over the sound of her heart pounding and blood rushing so fucking loudly in her head. She exhaled, long and slow through barely parted lips, and nodded reflexively. She wasn’t sure what reaction she was expecting, had tried to keep herself without any expectations, but the reaction he’d given her was…better than she ever could have imagined herself, really, especially since she’d sprung it on him. Could’ve kissed him for it right there, really. Almost did. “Logistically, you’d be correct.” Non-negotiable, because regardless of what the odds might say regarding transmission, she’d be damned before she risked passing this onto someone else. “It’s just - gotta bring it up, y’know? It’s a thing.” A big thing. A really fuckin’ big, ugly thing she had to drag out of her closet. Mia’s eyes settled momentarily on his lips against her hand, his hand warm and comforting just by its presence against her own, and then she shifted her gaze back up to his face. “Well, provided my confession didn’t just ruin things or ruin the mood,” she began, a lightly teasing tone sneaking back into her voice as her hand gently shifted around in his hold to squeeze his, “I think my stance on that was pretty goddamn clear.”

Like hell he wasn’t going to say anything. The girl was practically vibrating out of her skin, and not in the nice, heady way from moments before. The air outside was cooler on their heated bodies, and he made sure to emanate warmth if she needed it. Berto hardly ever got sick, probably a side-effect of his mutation burning up whatever could harm him, and it made it harder to imagine how Mia probably felt whenever her health got a little worse. The fear, not of something hurting her in battle, but of whatever could consume her from the inside out, a silent enemy. Regardless of where the night was leading them, he didn’t want to be another cause for her fear.

The question caught her off guard but, when dealing with Berto, she supposed it shouldn’t have. He never had been one for subtlety or for talking around things. She respected that. It was hard for her to be so direct, forever used to stepping on eggshells and hoping for the best, a brutal beast crushing all in her path.

“I know Dani really well,” she said quietly, attempting to talk her way out of this conversation. Still, she couldn’t stop him from barrelling into the next sentence so she smiled wryly and shook her head. “It’s hard to want beautiful things without feeling like I’ll ruin them all. I usually do,” she said.

Yes, she did. The two girls shared a special connection, which could perhaps be attributed to Dani’s telepathic link with animals. Berto had always thought that they seemed a bit like himself and Sam – an underlying need to be close just for the sake of knowing that the other was alive and breathing, the world spinning around a shared axis. It could be... confusing, at times.

…

“Father was… more strict with Drake and I about training and field readiness than he was with the first few Robins. I am sure not every mutant in Xavier’s institute had a desire or useful ability for combat. As charming as a set of wings might be, they aren’t much use against a gun unless they come with invulnerability or super strength or speed and then become dead weight once they’ve been damaged.” Damian knew it was bleak. But he was so used to analyzing people on sight. Assessing threats, weaknesses, how he could get the upper hand, even when it wasn’t a combat situation. Private school had been a social battle ground and he knew he’d come out of it without the upper hand still. “My training situation was unique for my family. Nightwing ensured I had… gaps filled in my knowledge of childhood games and media.”

Titus made himself more comfortable, spreading out on the floor and thumping his tail gently on the carpet, seeing that they weren’t going anywhere. “Evil…” Damian paused. He always struggled to define morals more abstract than simply breaking laws, “Evil doesn’t care. But some people will never define for themselves what it is, they are… made to follow. And some people will always lead because they force others to follow. With their purpose or with fear. Captain America openly and regularly disagrees with the government he represents. Does that make him good as a leader?”

“You’re brutal, kid,” Berto remarked, far from insulting. He wasn’t sure yet if Damian should be trusted, but Berto felt like he could learn some things through observation. He’d been seeking to develop a sharper, more analytical eye, as opposed to letting himself be ruled by emotion as he had done for most of his life. “But for those who didn’t really have a penchant for combat, training was mostly self-defense. The first few times I ended up in the field with my friends, we were responding to threats we didn’t feel like we could ignore. Either way, it’s good that you were given the chance to explore something other than fists and weapons.” Even if it didn’t look like the boy had learned how to have fun.

…

“If I can’t, then I will simply walk away.” He shot back with a smile to match. It was easy to settle back into a role like this, just trying to be younger mutants friend and shake off the part time Professor vibe he had going for him back home in Westchester. 

“I like to think that I’m more of transparent than cold.” He chuckled at the familiar face the younger man pulled at him. “So talk to me about it. I don’t have any clones, but I’m a great listener.” 

.

Out of the teachers they had cycled through, Bobby was definitely on the younger side, always ready to cause some more trouble than his original teammates would ever want the kids to see. Berto enjoyed his energy, could always find a way to match it even though their powers should set them up as polar opposites. They were likely to get along on more equal grounds now, away from school.

“Keeping on brand, I gotta respect that,” he said, stalling. The offer came from a friendly concern, but did he want to talk about it? That meant digging deeper than he had been allowing himself to do – and yet he knew that it remained there, and it wouldn’t change unless he tried to let it out. “It’s... everything. The having had a clone is bad enough, but I never even got the chance to meet them. The way these lab people play with mutant lives...”

…

It would be so fucking easy to lean back into him, allow herself to get lost in the moment and the heat of him and the slide of his lips on her own. That became especially true as fingers wound into her hair, and Mia swore quietly under her breath. It would be so easy, but the conversation she was starting wasn’t one she could skip over. It would be nice to skip right over it, brush away the awkwardness, but that wasn’t an option. Teeth sunk into her lower lip as Mia tried to force herself to focus, and she took in a slow breath through her nose as she nodded. This was the part that sucked. It never sucked any less, never got easier to talk about even after years of dealing with it. Many of her prior teammates knew, had been told years ago once she’d gotten comfortable and settled with the Titans, and it was in her file; her HIV status remained need to know, and working with someone in the field was an instance where that became necessary. This was another situation where it came up, and that sinking feeling in her stomach certainly was creeping up on her again. “So,” she began, exhaling long and slow as she dove head first right into it, deciding it was better to take the high dive rather than hesitate and fumble: “I have HIV.” There it was, right out in the fucking open, and the quick wash of vulnerability that came with the admission was overwhelming. She swallowed around it, continuing on. “It’s - I take my meds, my number’s are good, my viral load is undetectable which means I can’t give it to anyone but it’s still a thing.”  Still a risk, always a risk, always a fucking red letter pinned to her shirt and tangible proof that there would be no way to ever escape her past. Eyes met his again, a little more guarded than they’d been earlier but she managed to keep her expression neutral. “So if this stops here, then that’s fine. Or if you just wanna keep this at messing around without going any further, that’s also fine. No hard feelings, I promise. Hell, we can even go back inside and drink and dance some more instead, if that’s what you want. Night’s still young, got plenty of time.”

If she hadn’t signaled that it was important, Berto was likely to have tried to distract Mia – what could possibly be more important than the two of them and the prospect of feeling good? Still he refrained as she appeared to be gearing up for whatever she needed to say... which wasn’t remotely close to anything Berto could have expected. His expression flickered through surprise before settling onto concern, his speechlessness giving her time to continue talking – explaining herself, as if she owed him something.

Berto had always been more well-off than most of their team but still, Rahne found herself glancing over her shoulder as they walked - as though she didn’t belong in the more expensive areas of Matchak. Despite the lack of stores that Berto would usually frequent, he had still managed to drag her out shopping. Rahne grumbled softly under her breath but allowed him to pull her along, eyes wide and bright at everything on offer.

The mention of Dani caught her attention though and she turned her gaze down onto the fabric in question, reaching out with one delicate fingertip to trace the stitching. “It would be beautiful on her,” she murmured before shaking her head. “That would be good for her, I think. Maybe something turquoise too if we see it.”

Berto tilted his head, watching the girl out of the corner of his eye. There was a moment where it seemed that Rahne was caught up in a revelry, before she shook herself out of it. Never the wistful type, Berto couldn’t claim to discern exactly what she was thinking, but he could try to make her feel comfortable enough to express herself.

“Robins start young. Richard was eight when father took him in and began training the first Robin. The next not much older than that. Batman has been criticized before for taking in young children to combat.” Damian paused. He wondered if this was the moment for vulnerability, or if it would be upsetting for him to tell the truth of the conversation. He had somehow managed to keep from offending Berto despite regular criticism of his organization. He was getting much farther than he had with Wolverine. “Mother started my training practically the moment I was born. The day I started walking I was given a weapon.”

Damian held Titus’ ear between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it softly. He knew good men. Richard. His father. Alfred. Sometimes even Clark if he was thinking instead of being rash. There was Diana, who rallied together people to come here when no one else in the Justice League could. “Can you define a good man? An honest man might not see past a previous transgression and leave you for dead. A kind man might fall for a trap. A smart man might start to see himself as better. People don’t change, they just become more. Sometimes for the better, usually for the worse.”

“That’s young even for us X-folks, normally they wait until puberty, but that’s because our powers tend to start manifesting then,” Berto confided, more for the sake of a neutral comparison than any judgment. For all that stepping into action during childhood could have lasting effects on someone’s body and mind, it also gave them a chance to fight for themselves, which would have happened sooner rather than later for people like them anyway.

Still, giving a baby a weapon didn’t sound quite proper. “Oh damn, dude.” Not very eloquent, yet there wasn’t much else he could say to convey his horror at the mental image. “What about toys, cartoons?” What had that kid lost while being sharpened as someone else’s blade? Berto considered that bleak assessment of human nature. Not entirely wrong, but... “Can you define evil? There must be one and the other, because if it’s all the same, we wouldn’t have to choose. And we have to, every single day, don’t we? My father left a legacy that would have turned me into something I don’t want to be. It can be argued that good and evil aren’t things we are, but rather deeds we make.”

@dacostaintl​

“Wow, look at you all grown up.” Bobby glanced up a bit at Berto then grinned, sticking his hand out. “We’re both adults here, take a seat.” He sat himself down and sipped on the coffee he had ordered himself in advance, pulling a bit of a face so subtly blew on the liquid to cool it right down. “I can’t seem to have anything hot recently.” He told him. “So, I heard about the clone thing, how are you taking it? Gotta be pretty rough.” It wasn’t like the file had been kept secret and Logan was terrible at keeping his stuff straight so Bobby had got a glance at the report he had yet to submit, laziness? No, it was just Logan.

“Figured you might wanna talk to someone not attached to all that about it.”

.

Berto smiled, nearly preening. He had come a long way from the short, ill-tempered kid that had come to the Institute after the greatest tragedy of his life – it was always good to be treated as one of the grown-ups. “It’s good to see you too, man,” he greeted, shaking Bobby’s hand and taking the seat across from him at the table. At the comment about the coffee, Berto couldn’t help but smirk. “Sorry then, I don’t think you can handle my sunny presence,” he joked, but his expression fell as the other subject came up.

“Jesus, you really do sound cold and sharp as ice sometimes, did you know?” He pulled a face at that, identical to how he used to look with his stubborn complaints as a teenager. He sighed and rubbed a hand at his forehead. “I’m... not talking about it much to anyone. Most of the time I try not to think about it at all, sometimes I fail.”

-

“Come with me?!” Rocket barked instinctively, the fur on the back of his neck standing up in outrage at the other’s audacity to not let him off freely after such an award winning performance. “I can’t just put you in danger. You gots them little human families to go home to. I ain’t insured.”  he shook his head to reinforce his refusal and took another step backwards, creating distance between the two. 

“Name’s Rocket. Only thing you’re guessin’ wrong is that you need to know anything about me. I ain’t here to be your friend, pal. I’m here to save your sensitive little tail hole from the radiating blast of the whatever-this-was-again.” He realised mid sentence that he’d forgotten the name of the honey cake, but was willing to keep going. “This thing’s drippin’ in all kindsa danger. You wouldn’t get it. Just go home to your family and pet your dog or brother or something. I’ll handle this.”

“Wow, no need to get your hackles raised, my dude,” Berto cut in, torn between wanting to laugh or to feel indignant over the raccoon’s tone. He didn’t have much of a family to come back to and he tended to be involved in more fatal dangers than whatever could come from a piece of cake. Once again, he was left wondering if Rocket had an angle in all that, but he couldn’t find a motive for that whole scene.