bang

“They have entire buildings for art and history?! That’s amazing! I’ve seen, like, maybe a couple of paintings or a few books in the same place at most!” Shulk was generally more interested in science, but the idea of buildings devoted to scientific discoveries was much less novel to him. He hummed thoughtfully. “I guess I’ve been to a… ‘science center’ before? Last time the researchers let me help them make a Gunlance, which was super fun! …but that probably wouldn’t be helpful right now.”

He stopped dragging the piece of scrap metal behind him and picked it up to carry it in his arms while he gave Scott’s questions serious thought. Shulk found it weird that Scott was asking questions about the Monado because the story of the Bionis and the Mechonis was one every little Homs knew. He must be really far from home.

“The Monado is supposed to be as old as the world itself, but it didn’t look old. It looked brand new!” He tilted his head to the side, the memory of it burned into his brain. “It was really, really bright red. Like someone had just put a new coat of paint on it. Ose tower is supposed to be really old too because it was built by an ancient race ‘specially to keep the Monado in it. The outside was covered in ice, and there was a blizzard out, so I didn’t get a good look. The inside was dusty, I guess. It was all metal and not stone, but half the ruins I’ve seen with my parents are made of metal…” Shulk hoped that was a passing explanation. He didn’t know nearly as much about their destination as the adults in their group did. Besides, he was a little tired from walking since he woke up.

“Mr. Scott, do you think we’re almost there?” He was very careful to not whine. He wasn’t whining, he would just rather not have to walk anymore.

“I’ve been to museums before, but they weren’t ever really my thing so much. Still cool to see. Sometimes they have entire wings dedicated to certain events, or like, certain parts of history. Sometimes they’ll change around stuff to reflect whatever else is going on.” Gunlances though, he hadn’t really seen one. Unless Shulk was talking about a harpoon gun? But those were on boats.

And should a kid really be building something like that...?

“I’ve seen a harpoon gun. It’s a gun that shoots lances. Well, I haven’t seen one...I’ve seen one on TV, or in movies.” He shrugged, continuing the trek to the museums. Unfortunately, it was a bit of a walk, and he didn’t have the money to get transportation, so hoofing it up the canyon it was.

And now Shulk was talking about some metaphysical shit way beyond him. Damn, maybe the kid should be building gunlances, because he was damn smart. Way beyond Scott was at that age - maybe even now.

“Ruins made of metal? Back home there was only ruins made of rock. But if something’s been around as long as the world, it’s probably gonna have to be pretty well-protected.”

“That sounds fun. I like heights too.” He gave a small smile. He also liked jumping off of them if there was water below, much to his parents’ dismay. Shulk turned around to see the room behind him, wondering what Scott was looking at, but he couldn’t see anything interesting. After a few seconds, he latched onto something else Scott had said.

“So this isn’t your home either? How come you’re here then?” Maybe he was lost too? Shulk already passed some confused looking kids on his way down here. Had more people just woken up in this strange city this morning?

Shulk nodded at the mention of scientists. The scientists in the Colonies always had answers for his questions, it made sense that the ones here would too. He was already feeling better at the thought of getting some answers, hopefully not only to the question of where the Monado was. Scott seemed nice too. Shulk could tell the man was trying to make him feel better. He also hadn’t been mad at him for going somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Okay, that sounds like a good idea.” He picked up the long piece of machinery he’d dropped earlier and hurried after Scott, working double time with his short legs.

“Where are we going, Mr. Scott? Are ‘science centers’ like labs? What’s a museum?”

“Heights are pretty cool, yeah.” Or rather, they were necessary. It was way easier to track someone from a rooftop than from the streets if you had no idea where to start. But that wasn’t really a discussion to have with a kid. As for Shulk’s next question, he shrugged,

“Dunno why I’m here. I just kind of showed up, like you. I think a lot of people just kind of showed up at the same time.” He didn’t want to add ‘so your parents could be here’ and give the kid false hope. His own family wasn’t here, and as glad as he was for it he doubted they’d be showing up any time soon. “But its okay, I can pretty much live anywhere. This isn’t too different from where I was living.”

And it wasn’t too different from the job he was working at, either. He started to walk toward the door, making sure he gave a cursory glance down each end of the hallway before continuing to talk to Shulk and walk out of the building.

“You don’t know what museums are? That’s a little surprising.” He laughed, “Science centers can showcase uh...Scientific findings. And museums are places where you can go and see all sorts of neat stuff. There’s art museums, history museums - and some of the science center stuff ends up in science museums. I’m thinking either the science or history museums is where we’ll go.” He thought for a minute.

Shulk scrubbed vigorously at his face while the man talked to him. When he mentioned that he was always getting into trouble too, Shulk looked up at him skeptically.

“Really?” He didn’t know adults could get into trouble. Well, besides being eaten by Mechon or wild animals, but that obviously wasn’t was he was talking about. “What kind of trouble?” He was probably just lying to Shulk to make him feel better, but he did offer to help so…

“It’s a big red sword, taller than me. In the stories they tell us it’s called ‘the Monado’ and everyone knows it’s supposed to save people. I guess it saved me, but I wanted it to help my parents wake up…” He looked down again. 

“It was in a tower the last time I saw it, so I came here cause there are a lot of towers. This it the only building I could get in, but I’ve been looking and I don’t think it’s here.”

He started scrubbing at his face again but stopped and stuck out his hand, offering it to Scott instead because ‘manners’.

“Hi Scott. I’m Shulk.”

“’Course. Adults get into trouble all the time.” He waved it off, trying to offer a reassuring smile as he took a few steps over, observing the room as casually as he could to make sure nobody else was hiding. Scott could handle close-quarters, but not with a kid to protect. “I mean I’m here right now, aren’t I? And at home there’s a reaaaaally tall building that has a really cool view. Sometimes I sneak into there.”

Unfortunately, however, he has no idea what this sword is. He’s never seen anything like that anywhere, except maybe in some kind of video game or comic. Sounds pretty important, whatever it is.

But the real concerning part was helping his parents wake up. Scott was starting to piece the puzzle together, and tried to hide the reality from his face. What would be better, to explain what had happened, or to help the kid look?

“Sounds pretty important, not sure it’d be in a dump like this.” He holds his hand out to the little guy, shaking it. “Nice to meet you Shulk.”

“I’m the jackass? Honey, you’re the one who’s worked for me for a few years and decided to shave your head and go back to what you were doing. First you ignore all my texts, then my calls, and I come out here looking for you–which is WAY more than I SHOULD be doing!–and you give me the hitman routine!? Ungrateful little…”

Angry as he was, this made no sense. The other even looked younger, frankly. About as scruffy as he was when they first met, over in that warehouse.

“…No, this doesn’t add up. You’ve got a horrible poker face anyway. If you were this pissed off, there’d probably be more ‘good-guy Scott’ and less ‘rabid-dog Scott.” … “Ugh. Time out, I’m confused. No funny business–I’ve got eyes in the sky.”

The gun was… withdrawn. He didn’t, but maybe the bluff would make him less likely to pull a gun on him.

“You work under me for The Belt. Went from making nothing to making a hell of a lot more than your old boss gave you–though I have no idea where you send all your money. You’re a personal driver, bodyguard, fuck buddy, y’know. Jack of all trades. But you must not know who I am, otherwise you wouldn’t have been this stupid to come after me at close range.”

A sigh, and the young crime lord folded his arms.

“There’s something weird going on. What’s the last thing you remember.”

This made no sense. He tensed up against the wall - he didn’t even know this city, this island beyond maybe a week ago. His own hackles raised as he listened, a stony silence lingering on the shared glare with this guy. The hitman routine? Ungrateful? Bullshit.

His gun was put away, and he was tempted to lunge. He knew there wasn’t anybody here, he’d checked the entire area out before he did his own work. Whoever “good-guy Scott” was, and whatever routine he was doing, he must be shit at his job if this guy didn’t think he’d check out the area first.

He did straighten up at the description of him? Fuck buddy!? “Now you’re just fucking with me. Clearly you just did your research on the hiring, or there’s a snitch on my end.”

“Or I’m being used to start some kind of conflict. Whatever. Just be honest.” But what did he remember? What did this guy even mean about that?

He had to fight for a moment on this one. His instinct was to kick away and gain the upper hand and kill him. It was an instinct that kept him alive in situations like these; on the rare occasion someone did catch him off-guard.

But this was Scott.

Scott. 

Of all the people he’d finally learned to trust, too.

It was almost too close for comfort–the hit landed on his shoulder instead as Lars moved, thankful it wasn’t his face taking a hit like that (and unfortunately, Scott hit hard.)

As his shoulder took the hit, he reached in his jacket, and pulled back the hammer on the pistol in his hand. The cool metal found itself under Scott’s chin.

“…Listen, Scotty. I’ll shoot you dead right now if you don’t get the fuck off me. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Pointedly, the barrel was pressed harder into his jaw, encouraging him to move back.

“You have five seconds. Back off and we figure this out, or I paint the street with your brain. Your choice.”

He didn’t call the numbers out loud; that made people panic. Last thing he wanted was the other to freak out and try to disarm him, or he really would end up dead.

He was not unused to the feel of a cold barrel against his chin only shortly after he’d landed a blow. It didn’t really matter where he intended to hit, what mattered was the lack of subsequent hits.

A his escaped his teeth as he glared down at whoever this guy was. Still calling him by name - he’d only just arrived, how the fuck was his minimal cover already blown to shit?

Getting up, fist unfurling, he backed away slowly. His own pistol weighed in his holster, and he’d have to look for an opening to draw.

Although disarming this guy would be simpler, he thought.

The heavy footsteps, he could hear thumping on concrete. And while there wasn’t enough time to dodge the attacker outright, the assassin could use the momentum against him well enough. It was a foolish idea in theory–grabbing your assailant willingly–especially when Lars lacked sheer muscle to pull someone. What he could control was his own body weight, using it like a counter-weight. With any luck, it’d send the bastard turning into the concrete wall.

“Nice try, you–”

Oh. No, he knew that physique very well. That was–

“Scott?! What are you, some kind of idiot?”

His back did slam against the concrete wall, but the shock was temporary as he raised a fist to clock the guy right in the face. He was thin, and if the hit landed with Scott’s weight behind it it should knock him right to the ground, and then he could just beat the shit out of this guy, but-

He stopped dead, fist still raised as his other hand shot out the grab the guy’s collar, provided he didn’t slip away.

“How-”

The last thing Shulk remembered was reaching up and trying to grab the red sword. His parents told him that it was important that they find it because it would save all of the Homs. If the sword would save all Homs, then he just needed to grab it and bring it to his parents. No matter how hard he shook them, when they laid down to sleep they wouldn’t wake up. Surely, the sword could fix them.

Maybe Shulk had actually touched the sword and it decided to help him instead. That could be why he woke up in this strange city, his pockets full of weird objects he didn’t know the purpose of. Still, this wasn’t what he had wanted. He needed to find the red sword and bring it back to his parents wherever they were. He took off through the city until he reached a place filled with towers, similar enough to the one his parents were in. Almost every door he tried was locked so he kept walking down and down until finally he found an unlocked building.

The building wasn’t tall, but the door to the tower had also been unlocked, so Shulk figured this was as good a place to start looking as any and started digging though the crates of metal parts, pushing one out of a box carelessly.

He started when he heard someone speak behind him. Trying to spin around quickly on his short legs, he dropped another metal part he’d been holding in favor of pinwheeling his arms to keep his balance.

“Sorry! I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed.” He looked straight at the man, worried he was about to get into trouble again.

“My mom says she can’t leave me with anyone and I’m always getting into trouble, but I didn’t mean it!” At the mention of his mom, his vision started to blur and he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves. “But I’m looking for something very important!” It was embarrassing, but his voice was breaking now with him getting more upset as he continued.

“I need to bring it back to my parents, b-but I don’t know where it is, or where they are, or- or where I am!”

“Whoa, whoa, no,” finally getting his handgun back in its holster safely, he pulled down his shirt to hide the thing and held up both of his hands in front of him, palms out to show he wasn’t gonna hurt the kid. Man, he had experience with kids, but even she wasn’t so skittish as this kid. Though, you couldn’t blame the kid at all - some rough looking guy accidentally, if briefly, pulls a gun on you and you’re one step away from a bad situation.

Hell, even if he hadn’t seen it, the boy was young, and Scott wasn’t the friendliest looking person he could have run into, in this less than friendly place.

“You just scared me that’s all. And this ain’t a place for kids - there are dangerous people around here.” And he was one of them, although not as far as this kid would be concerned. He may be some kind of scum who kicked the shit out of people for money, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. “Don’t worry, I’m always getting into trouble, too. So no big deal kid, honest.”

“You wanna describe this really important thing to me?” Hopefully some kind of brightly colored toy they could find and get the hell out of here, job or no. “And then we can go find your parents. If we all got dragged here, they could be here too.” Likely not, given what little he had been able to put together, but this really was no place for a kid.

A pain in this ass is what this is. First that kid, now this. Dealing with the kid was almost preferable compared to what these people do, and if he was gonna be babysitting he was damn glad it was on a different stakeout. Still all sorts of dangerous, but not the kind that would mentally scar a literal child if they’d happen upon the scene.

The cigarette was flicked away. The target was pretty thin, efficient though. Every movement was thought out while they were doing their work. His pistol away, he hopped over the window ledge and onto the fire escape, casually walking down.

And, well, not the sneaky type, the moment the other got into the alleyway he charged, all of his weight slamming into the hooded figure and tackling them to the ground.

Pushing his hair back, Scott sighed. It’s only been a day or so, and he’s definitely gotten himself back in the shit. Still, if he had any chance of getting out of here, money would probably be helpful and hopefully something he could bring with him. Being in a new place didn’t mean vacation from his his own plans and needs, and it definitely helped staved off the crippling anxiety that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave here. And if he wasn’t home, then-

Nope, nope, we won’t worry about that. The familiar weight of a gun in his belt was an uncomfortable comfort as he looked out the warehouse window. The din of the lower levels of Fibonacci made it difficult to see if the people he was looking for were coming, leaving him on guard.

Everything was quiet, even his breathing was muted as he focused outside. At least until he heard movement, and then the dropping of something metallic.

Gun in hand, he slowly moved his way to the other room where the noise emanated from, moving in quickly, he pulled his hand down just as quickly and pressed his gun behind his back. A blond mop of hair, way too small to be anyone he was waiting on.

;; for proxy, Scott will be in a pre-comic canon point before he’s working for Lars or is at all part of the Van Allen Belt! He’s pretty much a bruiser who works for criminals in the, uh, collection department, usually

somehow quieter. somehow.

doesn’t really seem to have many personal connections? like he’s a pretty distinctly different character once he starts to make friends in the belt

he will, within days of getting to spirale, likely find work in the fibonacci underbelly to start getting his stuff together

[text to: Lars]

[lars wtf r u ok?!]

Pointedly, another sip was taken, watching the other’s eyes. …And sighed.

He left him alone these other few times; why start to press it now?

Time to drop the idiot act.

“Look. I know what you’re doing. I don’t need you trying to find a way around being all worried or whatever. It’s embarrassing, and I don’t need it. Save it for someone else.”

…Tired, was what he sounded like.

“I don’t mind going out and getting wasted with you, but not if this is the direction it’s going in. Save it for someone who needs it, ‘kay?”

“Glad you decided to drop the bullshit.” His beer bottle hit the table with a thud, and he frowned. “Look, I know the shit that just happened to you at home, and given all this shit is kind of...Well, a lot, I wanted to give you some time to adjust to it.”

Of course this was going to be a ridiculously difficult experience, and the only part of him that was close to an interrogator was his fists.

“I am worried. And I know you haven’t just been up to your ‘usual shit’.  Usual shit Lars doesn’t come in with the damn looks you come in with.” He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.

Normally, beer was more Scott’s thing than his own. But this was a good draft–he bought it, after all–and he used his knife to pop off the bottle cap before checking his phone.

“Mmhm.”

…Oh, did he ask a question that needed an actual answer? Whoops.

“What do you mean? I do what I always do, minus all the extra busy work I’ve had to do. Your girlfriend told me you still haven’t taken that vacay, you know. I can pay for a room for you two now that we’re actually making a profit. Pays to be the boss’ favorite, right big boy?~”

How else could he avoid the question… hm.

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember half of it. The night life in the city is way different than Montross. It’s nice not having all these places recognize my face anymore.”

The part about bribing the barkeepers was mumbled under his breath.

“You haven’t been clubbing with me, right? We should do that.”

Not that he’d ever agree to go. Scott hated clubs.

Lars drank the beer - good first step - and then immediately tried to ignore him. Normally, Scott may just give up, but lately Lars has been...Too off. Too often. Shrugging, he takes a swig of his beer. “Was planning on going soon, before anything gets too riled up on the homefront. Your big plans for the future with ruffling feathers and all.”

“Maybe next weekend, I’m thinking. But this weekend I’m all yours.” Of course Lars was deflecting, acting like he was just behaving like normal. And then getting the bright idea to suggest something Scott didn’t like to do.

Likely a play to get him to say no, pass, and do something else.

“O-oh. Haha… You heard that?” The entire ward probably caught some of their arguing, if not the hospital at least.

“I don’t know how much you did catch, but they only started yelling because they care. I can’t really fault ‘em for that… Even if it’s kind of annoying sometimes.”

Any signs of frustration faded when he moved some of her hair out of her face. Zal sighed, giving a lopsided smirk in return. Was he talking a lot to help distract her or because he didn’t want to be in a hospital either? It was kind of hard to tell, but she wasn’t about to ask and risk embarrassing him.

“Well, ah… You’re on the right track.”

Did she out herself and tell Scott exactly what happened? Or did she still tell him and leave out some details? She hated looking uncool in front of her boyfriend…

“It was a truck, not a boulder. Got in a fight with Waver’s buff as shit boyfriend. Which is why I asked for Anda to not tell him, because I’d have to hear it from him too. And I’m sure I will regardless, since Anda can not keep a secret to save their life.”

Another sigh, but she actually smiled at him this time.

“Thanks, by the way. Y-y’know… For showing up and visiting. I’m sure things are pretty crazy out there right now.”

“Er, actually, how are things out there anyway? Are you okay? Lars isn’t overworking you during all this, right?”

“Yeah, uh, I think everybody heard that.” Not that the screaming match had meant he looked any less suspicious. And in the nurse’s defense, he was definitely a criminal, and definitely armed. “Hey, I know Anda too, and I know they wouldn’t shout like that if they didn’t care a lot. Or come to a hospital, since hospitals kinda suck for them for some magical reasons.”

Still not his wheelhouse, all that magic psychic stuff they had going on. He was just some guy with a gun, after all. But then she said-

“Uh, it’s kind of metal as fuck that you got hit with a truck and kind of just ended up like this. Though now I definitely know, uh, not to mess with Waver’s boyfriend.” He chuckles, kind of worried now about the constant breaking into that household.