the trapeze swinger.

"because i want to help. and for you, specifically, i care about helping someone i think of as --- " lips pressing together, he stops. 'friend' seems to heavy for their brief interactions through the years. but the two of them have been friendly. amicable. existing in the odd space between acquaintance and friend.

all at once, their mask is more a chain swinging than a method of protection. but its a familiar greeting, one they've weathered since they made a choice that would define the last eleven years of their life.

there are so many spaces within him that shame takes root. but it won't with this work. not anymore.

"it's people, not just supers, that determine how to make this world a better place. of trying to save those from the systems that take. the focus has to be on the community and how to rebuild it. that's what i move toward. and if i can contribute to that in what small ways i can ---- if it can be enough --- then yes, i will cherish that victory."

so much more sparks on his tongue. but he swallows the rest, and his throat aches from the burn. a breath, then another. by the time he speaks, his tone is carefully neutral.

"you want to help me? and how do you plan on doing that, exactly?"

and there is more venom in his words than he wants there to be, recklessness in his petulance, only because he is desperate for ryoji to see that the people around them are the very same ones doing the most harm.

perhaps if they'd met all those years ago, he might have learned to more forgiving.

"it might be people that make this world better, but it's supers that destroy so much of it. you -- you burn down buildings to catch one villain, and you get away with it, too. because people love a good hero. we have to figure out how to come back from that. not you."

his shoulders drop as he lets out an exhausted breath.

“i got the footage,” she begins, half of her attention focused on picking a drink among the options presented on the holographic screen. the other is dedicated to elaborating on her discovery, her explanation delivered in a quick, lilting cadence. “unfortunately, it’s not of the explosion itself, more of what happened right after ‘cause that’s when andy remembered to start recording, but i guess that’s better than nothing? i don’t even know what we’re looking for, but maybe something will pop up.” 

deciding on one of velo’s house cocktails, she nudges the device towards isaac before leaning forward. “that aside, you’ve seen the news, right?” as useful as the video clip could be, it isn’t her main concern, and she doubts he’ll disagree. “no fucking way all these new supers have just been in hiding until now. i’m pretty sure at least one of those villains didn’t even have powers before. that sam guy definitely didn’t.”  

“so...if samael doesn’t turn up with their head blown to bits soon, you think this means," isaac doesn't mean to smile, but there's definitely a smile playing at his lips. “they’ve found a way to stabilize it?” 

ryoji swallows.

"you're right. not everyone with a mask is a villain." they take a slow breath, weighing each word. something fragile is about to slip through their hands, and they don't wish it to.

"i'm no stranger to the type of desperation that leads someone down a path of violence. where i ran scenarios through my head of what was the best choice for me and my family, and what cost i was willing to pay. what cost i would force on another as a consequence."

a flash of his father withering away. running his tongue over his teeth, he takes a deep breath. "it's why i'm not going to send that person to jail. they'll be left there, yes, because i don't know if they're part of a group that's looking for them. it's part of my risk-analysis, which also includes how my priority right now is you. but i'm not sending an alert for the police to pick them up --- and that's my usual call."

but when the words finally register through the panic, isaac finds himself looking up to meet their gaze. family.

momentarily, he imagines a younger ryoji with their family; he doesn't know much, but there's something in their voice that isaac recognizes. doesn't know if it's warmth or regret or something else altogether.

his breathing evens as his head catches up and understands ryoji's not here to hurt. still, his brows knit in simultaneous annoyance and confusion at the question.

"what's it to you?"

and strangely enough, he finds that he truly wants to know the answer to his question.

"look who it is—my favorite coworker! don't tell odessa i said that." despite the teasing words, his tone is genuine while he beams at isaac. the other is always a welcome sight, especially after the isolated three weeks zayid spent attached to his couch and recovering from the flu. leaning against isaac's desk, he dips his head lower to give the impression he'd like to avoid being overheard (in an empty office) with a wry grin. "you got some time to spare? i need someone to complain to about our new boss."

“actually, i think you should absolutely tell odessa that.” he teases, though his laughter quickly turns into an audible groan at the mention of new management. 

“jesus christ, tell me about it. asshole’s been here for like thirty minutes and thinks he knows everything.” a dramatic sigh later, isaac lifts an eyebrow. “what’s your beef with him?” 

“Two weeks,” they parrot, interrupting the deluge of their own clawing thoughts, mulling over the fact that the two of them will be meeting semi-regularly until the machinery is finished. To Isaac’s satisfaction, that is. “Okay. Let me know if― if you need anything in the meantime.” Why the fuck would he need anything from them? Nevertheless, they continue: “Like more information, or stuff I’ve tried on my own…. or something.”

not really. 

he pauses his movements and leans back into his chair, tilting his head up to look at jax. “...yeah. kind of. i was out on the balcony and people started screaming and running. blood on the floor, the walls - sort of thing. i just got out of there as quickly as i could.” 

his jaw tightens for a moment before he continues. 

“i heard you were...helping. that you helped. but you know, you should ― you should talk to someone. if you’re not,” eyes fall back to his own hands as he sighs, “okay.” 

it takes another beat for him to register the what isaac mentions. he closes his eyes, muffling a sigh. "i take that means it's along the disturbing, invasive type of human experimentation?"

kiran crosses his arms. the smb weaves respond to his touch, a small, near imperceptible sound. but to him, it echoes in his ears, a thrumming of choices he's made. what he decided, full autonomy, to do to himself.

"how many people were experimented on?"

"didn't say. i have a feeling they didn't want anyone to know how many. or what happened to the ones experimented on. which means this was very, very private knowledge, even within kronos."

he hesitates before his next move, mostly because he isn't actually sure what kiran gets out of this. but he's got access to the more important people at the nsa, people he has no way to get close to. so he presses a button on his arm and takes out a small chip.

"you can have the file, if you want. and anything i find out after this. but this means i need access to your files, too. nsa files."

then he switches back to business, claiming the blood won’t be on her hands. she almost wants to laugh; just because she’s not the one doing the dirty work doesn’t mean she won’t be blameless. she may not be stopping him, but she won’t help him, either. 

in the end, it was always going to come to this: personal loyalties over objectivity. she’d known it the moment isaac slipped baz’s name. 

“i can’t give that to you right now.” she doesn’t elaborate why; he’s free to fill in the blanks as he chooses. she doesn’t quite say i’m sorry, either—they both know there was always a chance of them walking away empty-handed—but something apologetic is laced in her tone all the same. sorry i can’t give you what you want. sorry you’ve been driven to this point. sorry it has to be like this. 

“i don’t think you’ll accept any other trade, so i won’t ask you for it.” she’ll get the information she needs somehow—it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t have a back-up plan. but if this was his breaking point, then where do they go from here? she’d hate to lose him as a contact; he’s proven to be reliable and trustworthy, he’s good at what he does, and they usually share the same goals. finding all of the above in someone is rare. they’ve worked well together—could continue working well together—but an invisible line has been drawn. she downs the last of her drink, the ice cubes melted. “but if you need anything else, well, let me know.”

and she is polite to the very end, so he simply nods back, following suit and finishing the rest of his drink. the copy of the file he’d made days ago sits in his pocket, untouched; if she wanted it that badly, they both know she could use her powers to get it. so he knows, too, that it’s a sign of respect that she doesn’t. it doesn’t have to be the end of them, perhaps, but in his disappointment, he doesn’t quite know if she’ll ever have anything else he needs this badly.

with a soft sigh, he grabs his jacket from the side. 

“you know, i had someone like that too, once. someone i would’ve given anything for. so i get wanting to — fuck, i don’t know. wanting to protect someone you care about.” 

one arm in, then the other. he meets her eyes again. 

“but i also had the comfort of knowing that they were a good person. i won’t tell you what to do; i don’t have the right to do that.” he repeats her words, “but i just hope he doesn’t end up disappointing you. because i wish i could sit here and tell you that he’s a changed man but he’s— ”

 you don’t have a home to go back to, do you? 

“ — actually, i’ll let you figure it out yourself.” 

"apologies. i tend to immediately act when i see a gun." their tone's neutral. it's a basic truth rather than an expression of annoyance or passive-aggression. they have learned never to expect gratitude; they aren't part of crux for it, and nobody owes a hero gratitude.

still, there's something in isaac's voice that ryoji can't help but focus on. they should store it for later, to pick apart when the morning rays peek through the blinds. and yet, it burrows under their skin now. the two of them need to move, but ryoji only moves closer to the other man.

( somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tells him that this isn't exactly fair, that ryoji has been nothing but kind to him, even now. but he doesn't want to listen to voices inside his head. not now. )

"he wasn't going to hurt me," isaac retorts, even as he tries to take a step back away from ryoji and hits the wall behind him instead. "for fuck's sake — what happens to him now? you send him to jail?"

he presses his hands against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, before letting them drop again. his voice is quieter when it leaves him.

so she’s scared. can you blame her? when you’re twenty-one, you think you’re invincible. she’s learned that she isn’t.

“‘cause my horoscope said so,” she rejoins, appearing offended he’d think she’d rat him out. leaning back in her chair, she tilts her head to look at him. “because you’re my friend, and i don’t do that shit to my friends. you can trust me on that.” whether or not he believes her is up to him, but she hopes he does. “but you’re right—i don’t know. i can’t speak for you. but something tells me you won’t. call it a gut feeling.” realistically, they are at an impasse—if he chooses to bring her down, she can take him down with her, and maybe he won’t want to risk that. 

cut out logic, and it’s simply her desire to continue seeing the best in people. to trust. she can only guess at what isaac's been through to make him so skeptical, and she can’t fault him for it. they all have their own ways of surviving; maybe she even ought to take a page out of his book. some caution might do her good. 

but if she second-guessed everyone she ever met, she would be extraordinarily lonely, and there is nothing more she hates than being alone. “i just hope i’m not wrong.”

she pushes the chair back on its wheels, spinning to face him. “basically, yeah. i mean, the fact that our colleagues who are even allowed access still can’t see everything says something, right? do you think the government's involved, too? or just private companies?”

a small thrill runs through her as she runs through the possibilities. it’s like she’s in college again, bypassing firewalls and uncovering conglomerate secrets, wondering just how far she can take it. “i think i could go the rest of my life without seeing anymore heads explode.” odessa laughs with him, though she can’t quite keep the bemusement off her face. “would you actually? what if you got, like, some shit power? or do you think they’ll end up color-coding it or something?”

it makes isaac look away, how easily those words come to odessa. if he'd met her when they were younger, before everything, he thinks there might have been a chance for him to deal with a world in a better way. he might have even learned to see things like she does now, finding beauty in the small things, believing that the world is still a good place, being able to trust people this easily. he spites and admires her for it; he's grateful and relieved, even, knowing that she was the one around jules while he was gone. it's complicated and none of it is her fault, so he nods in the end.

"yeah. i hope you're not wrong, too."

he releases the breath he didn't know he was holding as the conversation takes a turn to focus on the case at hand once again. government? he's no doubt that the government's involved, and he wonders —

"if the government's involved, is that something you could find out?" and this time, his words aren't as pointed — he's genuinely curious. he doesn't know what he'll do with the information, exactly, but if theyr'e able to get something on their hands, it'll be ammunition, for now or for the future. and maybe, just maybe, they'll listen to odessa if not him. "it's too big for the government to be not involved. if they've covered for the nsa before, they sure as hell going to cover for kronos with how much money we make them."

she seems enthusiastic about it, to say the least, and it does amuse isaac in a way. her question still gives him pause, though, and he idly cracks his knuckles in thought.

"let's hope so, because i don't exactly have a lot of time to waste trying a bunch of different serums. but if it doesn't work out," he leans back into the chair and looks up at the suspiciously clean ceiling. "then i'll just find a way to finish it all myself."

again, he doesn't quite feel the need to clarify, so he tilts his head back down in sudden thought.

"say, you think anyone has a footage of the," he makes a quick exploding motion with his two hands, "you-know-what? any way we might be able to search one out?"

he does have a point, though, in that he probably could get him fired if he really put his mind to it, isaac rolls his eyes anyway, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out his tablet and opening up one of his latest project files.

"speaking of," he sighs, holding it out for val. "apparently they need you to sign off on this first before i can get the parts. so if you could, please and thank you."

“four minutes,” isaac presses his lips into a thin smile, placing the two cups of coffee in his hands onto his desk. ( and just why did his desk have to be so close to val’s office? )

“and i guess if we’re all being very technical, anyone under buchanan is replaceable. right?”

their hand slams into the face of the attacker. for a split second, they lift their suppression on themself; the rush of pain shoots through their bones and muscle, reminders of what was shattered and strained.

ryoji could collapse from the sheer devastation of the feeling. instead, they dig their nails into open skin. they choose the pain of a head being bashed into a wall, over and over.

the attacker falls back. listless, unconscious.

ryoji stands straight, breaths slowly leveling as their suppression returns. the oni mask's fangs glint neon red as they catch light from a nearby billboard. it's the sight that the person behind them faces as they turn and narrow their eyes.

still, he's caught off guard when someone presses something against the back of his head, demanding that he empty his pockets. "listen — " he begins, but before he can even tell the other that he frankly has nothing on him, the feeling of cool metal disappears with a loud crash! behind him.

alarmed, isaac turns, and it's over so quickly that he doesn't even know how to react. and while he should be grateful, he finds that he is annoyed first, particularly at the sight of the mask.

she knows, too, what it’s like to go unheard. it’s a commonality found in people like them: those who have slipped through the cracks of society. who are left out in the cold, to fend for themselves. underestimated and doubted, they find their own ways of pursuing justice—she supposes this is what’s led him up to this moment.

“it’s something to look into, in any case. i trust you more than the nsa.” it is strange, then, that the crux members before her did not look into the organization, that there were no notes on possible government involvement—

he needs to pay for what he’s done. 

isaac’s words bring her thoughts to a halt. head over heart. heart over head. which will it be? it’d be easier if she didn’t care. if she could cut out attachment and crush it in the palm of her hand. because she can’t say she disagrees; the crime fits the bill, and if she did not know baz as she does, she would be second in line to help him pay it. 

but the truth is more complicated, as it always is.  we have no way to defend ourselves. not like you do. and yet i could never really kill him. 

“and do you know what you’re going to do?” suzu’s asking before she realizes it, and even as the question leaves her lips, she’s not sure if she wants to know the answer. “and if he does pay, will you be satisfied with that?”

she does not mean to taunt. rather, she speaks out of concern. it might’ve begun with baz, but it does not end with him; he is not the first hero the nsa has covered up for, and he won’t be the last. revenge is a slippery slope, often leaving a gnawing emptiness that screams to be filled. she would know. do you?

her question makes him laugh, a little. if he knew what he was going to do, he wouldn’t be here, begging her for scraps. if he knew what he was going to do, he would have done in years ago, instead of letting this hatred become a part of him. he would have done it before it was too late to turn back. 

“whatever it takes.” he says simply. the question that follows gives him pause, but only because he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way to make her really understand. and of course he’s thought about it a thousand times, if not more. he’s dreamt of it, even — his hands wrapped around baz’s neck, watching him like he’d watched all of them during the fire. he’s imagined it enough to know that it will be unceremonious and harrowing and that it will break him, too. but he’s also decided a long time ago that he doesn’t care about what happens to him afterwards. 

“i’ve lost every good thing in my life trying to get here. my friends, my partner, whatever future i had.” his thumb presses against the now-lukewarm beer bottle, “if i give up now, i don’t have anything else to live for.” 

after that, he finishes his drink, wondering how they’d come from talking about the ball to here. he refocuses — this is not about him, this should’ve never been about him. 

“so it’s up to you, but my offer’s still the same. i’ll give you what i have if you tell me what you know about him. i’m not asking for anything more. i’m not asking for your help outside of this and i’m certainly not asking you to agree with me. if it happens — when it happens, the blood’s on my hands, not yours.” 

this is about continually building trust. and kiran has to remind himself despite their disagreements on heroes, the two are looking toward the same goal. something must be better than the current state of affairs.

so kiran chuckles, tapping his watch to connect to the bar. "fair, fair. what are you looking at? and will it cost another drink to hear how you risked your life?"

"i'll take a gin and tonic. and another one in twenty minutes since you're offering." he says, choosing not to linger on kiran's previous comment for too long.

"eh. you don't wanna hear about how i risked my life. it'd bore you. what i risked it for, though," isaac continues, "might make you a little uncomfortable. how do you feel about human experiments?"