multiplied;

closed @replicaticns

He’s going to try to enjoy this place even if it fucking kills him. It very well might. In the daytime Miami air is nothing but heatstroke soup and Cain, after living a life in windswept air of Chicago, is ill-prepared for it. He’s degraded himself into wearing board shorts already and bought some awful drink with a slice of pineapple on it because he needs something cold to sip on. Now he’s laying out on a beach chair and trying access his inner Shae or Luca. There’s got to be something enjoyable about this shit. He just needs to find it.  But something won’t let him relax. It’s a sixth sense he’s developed over years of dealing with Raemers. He can feel that something stupid and annoying is about to happen. He just can’t tell what. 

Isaac, like Cain, is going to enjoy this place, even if it fucking kills him. However, he’s more likely to get killed as the waves continue to take him out at the knees and drag him into the salty shallows, or by someone like Cain, than he is from trying to have fun. Isaac can find fun in almost anything, picking at the layers of the mundane until he finds anything to spark his interest.

Some days were filled with so little to do that Penelope could feel her mind slipping onto a state of overwhelming boredom. And as she walked through Walmart’s aisles, putting things into her shopping cart, Penelope could feel herself getting even more bored. The mutant let out a sigh, frowning as she looked at the shopping cart and found that she didn’t want any of the things she had put there. Walmart was more crowded than usual and yet there was still a sense that she was just… there. Then, her eyes lit up at the thought that crossed her mind after realizing that the aisle she was now in was empty —- it was just her and ice-cream and other (frozen or not) goods around her. 

Penelope looked around, making sure no one was coming and, at the same time, trying to notice if there were any security cameras pointed at her. And if there were, the blonde would sneak just out of (where she thought) the frame of the image ended and would create an energy shield, thick enough to hide her away. Afterward, Penelope created a diversion she thought was enough — or at least that was her plan until she heard someone speak from behind her. For a heartbeat, her eyes widened — she felt caught, she felt like she had to bow her head down and show regret for doing it. Something conditioned by her parents. “Getting some free ice-cream.” And other stuff. Penelope had nothing to hide. Not from a stranger. Penelope put her arms up, creating a slightly bigger nebula than her usual a few aisles over for distraction. “You?” There was a bit of mischief in her eyes.

Boredom is a toxin, as far as Isaac is convinced. It seeps into the mind and paralyzes the limbs until you succumb, doing nothing and then complaining about doing nothing. Isaac tries to avoid it as much as possible, though he can obviously be caught in the typical young-adult-in-his-20s-with-little-responsibilities tradition of sleeping until noon. But it was that desire to keep away from boredom that drove his feet around this city, that kept the gears of his mind turning. Thankfully, he had found just the source of entertainment, in someone else who seemed to be as intent on avoiding boredom as he was.

Thankfully, Isaac wasn’t a snitch. An enemy to authority and the rules himself, he was an ally in this fight, though really he was just also another bored, reckless kid looking for a piece of the pie for himself. In this case, the pie was actually ice cream, and that was even better, because it was hot outside and Isabel hadn’t bought any and Isaac was really starting to question what the point of coming to Miami was if there wasn’t even ice cream to pair with the hot spring day. The mischief she was hiding began to bloom in her eyes, and Isaac’s trouble-making smirk grew in size to match as he leaned towards the freezer himself. “Same here,” he answered, grabbing armfuls of pints for himself. “Did you get far enough to figure out how we’re supposed to get out of here like this or...?”

Isaac never stopped being Isaac, even when Jordan wanted him to the most. For instance; in this particular moment, he wished Isaac was just a little less persistent. Or maybe a lot less persistent. If he had been, maybe what happened at the riot wouldn’t’ve happened. Or maybe they wouldn’t fight at all, just pass each other by without anything but a cursory glance.

But no. Instead, Isaac saw him and saw a challenge. Saw him and saw…. What? A monster? An asshole? Both? Jordan wouldn’t be surprised by either; he was sure many thought the same, considering what his power was and the fact that he was so untrusting. But instead of avoiding him, he faced him with a sort of self righteousness Jordan would almost begrudgingly admire if it wasn’t Isaac.

So he wasn’t really surprised that Isaac didn’t want him to leave, but Jordan was realizing how drunk he really was, and how vulnerable that made him, and he certainly didn’t want to be vulnerable around Isaac of all people. He really just wanted to go home and get out of the heat and be with his cats. But Isaac was standing in his way. 

And yet, if he really hated Isaac that much, why hadn’t he left him to die? Why hadn’t he properly scared him off? Why did he care? Why had he always cared, even when Isaac drove him mad? 

In a surge of anger, Jordan turned sharply and shoved Isaac back and out of the street, pinning him with one flat palm against his chest to the alleyway wall. He dug his fingers into the other’s shirt and let out a sharp breath of irritation. “Do you ever shut up?” he bit out, trying to stay angry even though it was ebbing out into exhaustion quickly. He hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to the other, but that wasn’t something that was really registering in his mind. Mostly it was how the dimming lights were hurting his eyes and how Isaac didn’t smell like a wet tortilla chip like he was expecting, but something bordering on pleasant. 

Jordan lifted his eyes to stare at Isaac. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

Isaac didn’t see Jordan as a monster. A fun killer, maybe. An asshole, definitely. Someone who grated on his last nerve, absolutely. But noting about a guy who could only strip someone else of their powers screamed ‘monster’ to Isaac. Maybe that had more to do with Isaac’s view on his own powers, which were an extension of himself but mostly a source of excitement and entertainment, hence where Jordan’s fun-killing reputation blossomed from. He would also go as far to say Jordan is not an asshole, but a pompous asshole, and it was that which made them quarrel in the first place – Jordan’s educated mind and large vocabulary confused Isaac to the point where he just took everything he didn’t understand as an insult, and while he was confused often, he wouldn’t be insulted lying down.

And that somehow got them here, Isaac stumbling back, his bare feet hoping to keep him upright on the pavement. Thankfully, they didn’t have to do too much of the work, because along came a brick wall against his back to hold him upright, though it also succeeded in knocking the wind out of him as Jordan shoved him against it. Eyes widened a bit in surprise as Jordan grew close, twisting a hand in his shirt. Normally, he would make a suggestive comment, but this was Jordan, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t know a good time if he bit him in the ass. It didn’t help that his throat had almost dried up, locking the words away for reasons he couldn’t know. “Nope!” he replied, devilishness threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth

Why wouldn’t he leave Jordan alone? Because getting under his skin was satisfying, but why? Was it the way his brow furrowed when he couldn’t pretend to ignore Isaac any longer? Was it the way soft lips pulled back to bear his teeth? He couldn’t answer, and he wouldn’t face any real reasons inside his mind, lacking the critical thinking skills to do so. His eyes searched for answers he couldn’t find. For once, he had no remark. “I dunno,” was all he could reply.

She recognises the slender boyish look of the male standing before her. He has the mischief-glittering dark eyes and unruly hair and perpetual smirk of a TikTok user who thinks their lip-syncing achievements are worthy of putting on their resume. She’s seen him. Multiple times. Simultaneously. His comings and goings in her neighbourhood have been watched by Hana with increasing agitation, fuelled further by the cocksure way he approaches her now. “Back off,” she utters, voice low, red like a warning sign. A step is taken forward, marking out her space, keeping him from getting any closer to the car. Her fingers twitch subtly at her sides, testing the air for electricity only to find her resources limited. The gaze pinned on Isaac is heatedly hostile, not wanting him to mistake her, even for a moment, as someone willing to engage in a pleasant conversation with him.

“Even in a city of weirdos, you stand out like a sore thumb.” Hana passes a long look at his lack of shoes, expression mildly horrified by the thought of anyone giving up their chance to wear nice sneakers. “How many of you are there? Two? Three? Four? What even is that– quadruplets? Your mom must have been in labour for fucking days.” She throws her head back lazily to exhale a single unhumoured laugh, attention briefly skyward towards the starless night. “Baby, you don’t even know the half of it. I’m not telling you what I’m doing so–” her hands flick towards him in a shooing motion, “–go on, scram.”

Isaac would take offense at Hana’s interpretation of him – well, only the part about the lip syncing. He didn’t lip sync on TikTok – it took one look at his wildly popular profile to tell you that. Also, he’s never had a resume. But regardless, his neighbor is right, he’s trouble, but also the type to become the unwitting target of the trouble others make. Hell, his mere presence annoying her would even be a source of amusement, if Isaac paid attention enough to realize that it didn’t just stem from this one moment. “Or what?” Isaac asked, putting up his hands as a weak sign that he wasn’t planning on hurting her. He really wasn’t, and he didn’t have the physique of someone who could harm most people easily, but he also had a shit-eating grin of someone who couldn’t be trusted. He’s not looking for pleasant conversation, he’s looking for entertainment, and like the neglected child he is, he’ll take attention any way he can get it.

Isaac’s silence isn’t nearly as long as Tierney would have like, he could have done with a few more minutes of stunned silence. He’s half ignoring him as he bounces back up and walks over, and he half considers just not answering his asinine questions. “Son. If I was mad at you I would do much, much, worse than shoving you off a stool.” Tierney considers himself a very in control sort of person. His emotions don’t rule him these days, instead he rules them. “Besides. You and I both know I’m capable of much worse.” He goes back to the bike, slotting the wrench around a bolt and twisting.

He notices Isaac picking up the screwdriver again and bites back a groan.  Kid never learns. He considers his options before freeing up one of his hands to freeze the screwdriver in place. Isaac can pull and tug all he wants, it’s not going anywhere unless he wills it. And if Isaac’s lucky, it won’t be into one of his shoulders.

“You’re kidding right?” Tierney asks, mostly aghast, and turning away from his bike. He smells mischief oozing off of Isaac in waves. “I test the bikes. I’d never send a client something that din’t start.” He rolls his eyes. “Rule one of owning a business. Give out product that works and clients will come.” He stands and stretches his back out, relishing in the pops. “If you want to help you’d figure out how to work a screwdriver in something other than a door jamb.”

Isaac really never thinks about what he’s doing before he acts. Perhaps then he’d think about why he was such a pest, and why he vied for this attention, realizing it was because he never got enough growing up and any attention seemed to feed into that desire, good or bad - plus now even the negative attention was attention he intentionally brought on himself. Tierney indulging Isaac only satisfied that urge to pick at the scab, to get him what he sought, an exercise in reminding him how he was free to do what he pleased or a cure to his boredom or just someone to give him a moment’s attention or whatever it was he was truly seeking that his mind just glossed over in favor of a few quips in response. “Are you saying I can’t handle it? You wouldn’t even try.”

Isaac tosses the screwdriver and watches as it spins a few times before returning to his hand. He bounces it in his palm a few times, feels the weight, and tries again. Same number of spins, same success at falling gently down into his hand with a soft slap of plastic on skin. Third time, he tries for more, gets greedy, and he misses the catch as it clanks upon the concrete floor. Still, he picks it up, attempts to try again. There’s really no purpose to this, other than a moment’s entertainment as he listens to Tierney lecture him on his business practices.

“Yeah, no shit, which is why you should let me test the bikes,” Isaac argued. “Besides, what are you gonna do? Test one and leave the other one sitting here all alone to gather dust? That’s just cruel.” But bikes weren’t dogs, and Tierney wasn’t an idiot. Isaac, however, was, and he points the screwdriver at the other mutant to prove it. “Hey, I can use this thing! I’ve seen someone stab a guy with one of these before.”

When everyone was told his whole life was to be packed up and moved halfway across the country, it was possibly the easiest thing for Isaac. He had no sentimental ties to Chicago, other than the people who were already coming with him. The city was only a few years familiar to him, after all, and much of it was filled with bad memories he’d been trying to escape for just as long. Also, coming from nothing, Isaac still basically had nothing, having few personal belongings and only really needing one box to fit them all (and only needing said box because he insisted on filling his backpack with snacks for the trip, even if that trip was only a few seconds long on Air Isabel). Winter things were left behind, as was, sadly, the police radio he’d stolen.

But there was always the chance for more, and it seemed like the sun in Miami promised this as he was blinded by its rays when they reached their destination. He could leave Chicago behind, nothing but a speck in the rear-view mirror (or, in this case, a disappearing portal), and there was something good about it, something freeing, and boy did Isaac value that freedom he clutched so tightly. Gone was St. Raph’s and the looming threat of return. Gone were those who would chase him down on sight. And yet the one good thing about Chicago wasn’t something he had to miss, because he had it right by his side as the rest of Blackburn joined him in the warmer air.

[ 001. 10APR. 11:54PM. VIRGINIA KEY. / OPEN ]

It’s not the first time she’s had someone die on her. Something tells her it isn’t going to be the last, either. Hana stares lovelessly at the lifeless lump of a man in the trunk. The car’s stolen, because of course it fucking is, and she’s far from certain she’s going to have as much luck dragging him out as she did getting him in. But hey, all in a day’s work, right? 

She plans to leave him out for the gulls to pick at and, hopefully, if she read the tidal forecast correctly which she didn’t because she forgot to check it, for the sea to wash his body away before day breaks. His name is already forgotten; she’d made sure to strip him of his wallet and phone beforehand ( again, not her first rodeo ). Much like the shit he had managed to get himself into with a local gang after seeing something he shouldn’t have, killing him had been accidental. She’d gotten a little too carried away and, sure, ok, that was on her – but electricity didn’t always play nice.

Virginia Key is dark but even away from the road with her headlights cut the motion of someone moving across the sand is unmistakable, moonlight catching at their silhouette. Hana slams the car trunk shut, concealing her little problem, and attempts to portray an air of casual idleness as she leans against scratched paintwork, the red of the car looking black in the night’s gloom. Mascara-clumped lashes narrowed, she eyes the figure enjoying a late stroll along the shoreline and tenses as their path abruptly turns away from the inky glistening expanse of water and shifts in her direction. Hana braces herself. Please don’t be a cop, please don’t be a cop, please don’t be a cop. “You’re looking a little lost, baby. Sure hope you don’t run into any unsavoury types out here tonight. You never know who might be lurking.” She waits with bated breath for them to draw close enough to see their face.

A new place means new things to explore as the moon rises to join the stars. Isaac had his paths of terror mapped out and familiarized back in Chicago, knew the places he could cause trouble before he was eventually caught and where to hide when that inevitability reared its head. He knew the best rooftops to climb to and how to get up there. Now, he was in a place less familiar, with twice the amount of opportunities while he had none of the knowledge as to how to seize some of them yet. Of course, that didn’t stop him – no, quite the opposite, fueling his drive to explore every grain of sand this city was made up of so he could best learn how to have his fun within its walls.

Exploring at night was just as important as exploring during the day, since Isaac barely ever woke up before noon anyway and the darkness brought cover for all the fun he couldn’t have with so many eyes upon him. Still, he was just touring – at least until his eyes settled upon something to toy with, of course, but for now he walked on, shoes forgotten and breeze rustling his salt-stiffened hair.

He noticed the buildings near the beach were shorter than the buildings in Chicago – easier to get on the roof of but more likely he’ll be spotted and also not as fun to jump off of but carrying a lesser chance of breaking his leg. He watched how the moon shone upon the waves, and also noted how it smelled when they retreated back from the shore – gross, but not the worst thing imaginable. Isaac liked how the sand felt beneath his bare feet, how the breeze cooled the redness upon his cheeks from the day’s adventures. He could get used to this.

Unfortunately, Jordan knew Isaac had a point. Benjamin was a self-centered prick, but then, so was Jordan. He would rather hide under Benjamin’s appearance of control, if only so he could continue to get away with his life. It seemed that Isaac would be the one to constantly remind him of his vulnerability in even the most asinine and round about ways. 

Of course, Jordan would never let Isaac know that, but he hardly was going to try and refute it. Sometimes, arguing with Isaac was like talking to a brick wall, and he didn’t properly have the energy if he didn’t even really believe what he was saying. That was, until, Isaac got properly angry after his dismissal, and puffed up and stepped forward, as if it did anything but make him look like a small fussy cats. He loved cats. He loved his cat. But not Isaac. Good lord, he must be more drunk than he thought he had been. 

The other had lovely eyelashes. Too bad he never wore anything to compliment himself. He probably wouldn’t be too half bad to look at if he tired even a little bit- Perhaps it was because he had been in such deep thought that the insult ripped a sudden surprised laugh from him. It wasn’t a snide laugh either; it was genuine amusement, which he stifled as soon as he realized what was happening. 

“Good lord. You are a dumb fuck,” Jordan blurted, before blinking in surprise. He stared at Isaac, before he moved to push the other away. “Okay, this conversation is over,” he said firmly, realizing that it was time for him to go home and sleep before this got out of hand. 

Control had no place in Isaac’s world. Control locked his mother up, though he never knew her enough to think to fight for her now. Control locked him up in a home that only sought to stifle him, and that was what left this lasting impression upon him that control was something that only suffocated people when they didn’t have it, and Isaac never seemed to have it. Benjamin’s control over the police made his life harder, made the lives of others like him harder if they ever opposed Benjamin. Anyone who sought to control Isaac, to put him in a cage and clip the wings he’s tried so hard to grow over these past few years, would meet one hell of a resistance. Order and control comforted Jordan. They terrified Isaac.

He glared at Jordan, expecting some sort of remark, some sort of condescending bullshit to show he’s gotten under his skin that might leave Isaac beaming with a bit of pride and the drive to dig a little bit further beneath the surface he’d already have evidence of scratching. He doesn’t realize how glossy the eyes looking back at him are when the sun is making it a bit difficult to (and when he’s just generally not very observant himself), suggesting Jordan’s been drinking. He also doesn’t acknowledge how pretty those eyes are, which is just a damn shame.

Instead, Jordan laughs, a first, catching Isaac off guard. He even tries to leave, and like a child who didn’t get the attention they’d acted out to get, Isaac only acts out more in response. His hand shoots out to grab at Jordan’s wrist, attempting to stop him as he aims to walk away. “Did I say we’re done? We’re not done. I’m only just getting started, asshole.”

Everything was so... different in Florida. To start, it was a lot sunnier yet also a lot rainier, and also quite obviously a lot hotter. Isaac didn’t really mind any of that though, spending days basking in the sun and feeling the cooling relief of the rain just as his shoulders started to get a bit too red. The colors were brighter. The air smelled different, like salt and the margarita that was spilled a few feet away five minutes ago. Even the Walmart was different - okay, he didn’t go to the Walmart often, if like ever, in Chicago, because it wasn’t convenient, but it seemed to be a much bigger thing here, and it was big enough to get lost in, which meant it was big enough to not get caught in, especially on the more crowded days.

The store itself was a strange place, enormous and a liminal space filled with creatures seemingly pulled out of alternate universes (Isaac himself included). He stared at that tall cage of temptation and giant rubber bouncy balls for a few minutes, contemplating diving right in, or seeing how many of himself he could fit in there, but that was a quest, he decided, for a different day, when there were less people in the toy aisle and less growling of his stomach. It was the latter that motivated him to wander down the grocery section, where he spotted something absolutely out of the ordinary. Some might see something that’s not right and walk away from it, but Isaac was the type to run at it full-speed and head-first, and that’s exactly what drove him to approach Penelope. “What’re you doing?” Isaac asked curiously.

He’s only a few hours away from finishing this bike. A few hours more and he’ll be able to put the final round of polish on it and sell it. The buyer he had lined up has been chomping at the bit to get it from him since he’d moved to Miami. It had been a three day process to convince him not to back out. He’s so focused on the bike that he barely even registers when someone walks through the door. He’s always had an open door policy for the Syndicate and plenty of mutants took him up on the offer. And woe to the person who walked in that wasn’t one of his family. Not that Tierney honestly thought anyone would. He stops tinkering on the bike only long enough to see it’s Isaac before ignoring him.

It’s probably the last time he leaves Issac unsupervised for a long while the second he feels the screwdriver pulled out of his hand. There’s a moment of eerie stillness before Tierney twists his hand and shoves Isaac off the stool with his powers. It’s a strong push, maybe a little stronger than necessary, but if Tierney knows Isaac he knows he’s a resilient person. He takes great pleasure in watching him topple over before pulling the screwdriver out from his hand with a flick of his wrist.

He twirls it between his fingers once before diving back into the bike. “Lesson learned, Isaac?” Knowing him, probably not, but he feels the need to ask anyways. He switches out his screw driver for a wrench. “And for your information I’m about two hours away from getting this bike out the door and a new flat screen TV.”

Isaac, for as nimble as he can be and how he prides himself on his escape tactics, isn’t the most graceful of beings. That much is made obvious as he’s shoved off the stool by a force Tierney controls, sending him flailing until he hits the ground with an audible “oof” that steals the wind from his chest. It silences him, but unfortunately for Tierney, it only does so for a few moments as he lays there to catch his breath. Then, he’s springing himself back to his feet, still not so graceful as his limbs flail to help him gain back the balance he lost. 

“What the fuck man?” Isaac asked, a bit appalled as he walked back over to where Tierney worked. As an obvious sign he hadn’t learned his lesson, he picked the screwdriver back up, twirling it in his hand as he talked. “All I did was ask a question. I don’t get why you’re so mad at me.” It’s not that he just asked a question, and Isaac, in a sense was aware of this. Hell, he was also aware that he was a pain most of the time - he simply didn’t care, because it was fun and amusing and any reaction was a good reaction for a kid who rarely got attention that wasn’t basically torture.

“Can I help?” For a moment, you’d think the question was almost genuine. “I can test it out once it’s done. You don’t wanna bring this guy a bike only for it to not work. That’s bad business.” Isaac, of course, didn’t know the first thing about business, good or bad. He really only knew how to steal from them, and even that was only petty theft.

Isaac can’t truly ever be bored, not when he has such a long list of people to bother. Sure, he guesses he could call those people family, in a sense, since the Blackburn Syndicate had given him the closest thing he’d ever had to that. It was difficult for him to exactly define the emotional attachments he had, mostly because he’d never had them before, and especially because he’d never seen them before. These past few years were the only ones in which he’d witnessed genuine affection, between other people and towards himself, because prior to this all he knew was hatred and guilt and fear. The feeling he didn’t belong, that he was never meant to belong. The Blackburn Syndicate had turned that all on its head, wonderfully so, though Isaac was still getting used to appreciating the kindness he never knew he deserved.

Usually, he shows it in his own way, and unfortunately for those around him, that happens to be by being annoying. Ever curious and ever sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, Isaac found himself taking shade from the beaming sun inside the cool concrete of Tierney’s garage. He’d only been in here a few times since the move, usually told to get out (or usually forced out) by the other mutant out of fear he’d break something or whatever. Isaac always thought tools were metal and therefore virtually indestructible; Tierney never gave him the chance to test that out. But today, he walked right up to Tierney and snatched the screwdriver from his hand, complete with a childish, “Whatcha doin’?”

The move had been stressful. Incredibly so, what with having Melon and her kittens as well. They were older, but Jordan was hoping to avoid moving them around. He had lived in Chicago for as long as he could remember, and he was not dealing with the change well. Firstly, the weather was awful. He had to take off his jacket, even though it would’ve been useful stil in Chicago. March wasn’t a month for simply a button up, but here he sat, with two buttons undone and his hair pulled back. He felt strange, weirdly vulnerable for being in a new place, and he did not like it. 

So yes, he had perhaps drank a glass too much of wine at the establishment where he dined. He was sure it didn’t help the unbearable heat, but it did ease his nerves somewhat, which were frayed. It was why he splurged on a new hard back book instead of a paper one, hopefully more resilient to the sand that seemed to coat everything.

And it was put to the test almost immediately as he was unable to avoid bumping into someone as he stepped out onto the street. He was more concerned about his book, and scooped it up quickly, dusting off the front and back, before turning to make his apologies. Before he swiftly canned it. 

Issac. He hadn’t seen him in two months. Not since the riot. “He shouldn’t be here,” Jordan found himself thinking, even though Isaac already seemed at home. The gangs had moved south as somewhat of a faux unit, but there were strengths in numbers, he supposed, even if some of those numbers hated each other enough to kill. 

The sight of him was more sharply painful than it was irritating, and that made Jordan angry. He hated knowing Isaac wasn’t worth his time, and yet spending so much of it thinking of him curled up in bed and spiteful. Disgusting. He was disgusting himself, and Isaac sat there acting as if he hadn’t continued to constantly poke and prod him out of his comfort zone again and again. 

His shoulders rose minutely as he felt his nose wrinkle instinctively. “You say that as if you gave us, least of all me, any choice. Chicago isn’t safe anymore because someone got rid of the only mutant keeping the police in check. You are fools,” he spit, suddenly very very angry. “Benjamin was not a good man, but now that he’s gone our homes are gone,” he said, before he scoffed at Isaac insinuation. He shouldn’t even award him with a response, but he found himself coaxed to by his hot-headedness for once. “I’ve already seen everything you have to offer as someone who can claim to have human sensibilities, and found you lacking, so yes, I have had plenty of you thank you very much.”

“Me? What the fuck did I do?!” Isaac replied defensively before Jordan could even finish. His one-track mind hadn’t thought to process all of Jordan’s words, because unlike Isaac who would simply make an accusation and leave it at that, Jordan at least had the mind to give him a bit more detail. “Keeping the police in check? That asshole kept them on his side! Not ours! He only helped himself, but I guess it’s hard to see that - the light must look so blinding if you’ve only seen the inside of Ben’s asshole for years.” The police were never his friend, and Isaac would defend that statement above a lot of other things. They’d put his mother in jail, though he didn’t exactly know why. They’d hunted for the mutant escaping a home that was nothing but cruel to him, because silence, to them, was more important than the freedom of those who just wanted to live. They stopped any chance at fun Isaac had, though that was less of a gripe about police in general and more about how Benjamin only utilized his connections there when it suited him and his, not to aid all mutants. Jordan was living in whatever fantasy Kings designed, the same that decorated that garden only to shatter the dream with a deafening gunshot.

So yeah, of course Isaac was pissed. He hadn’t done anything, and yet he felt as if he was being blamed for the situations in Chicago. He didn’t control the police, and even though Benjamin, in a sense, had a hand in that, he certainly didn’t have a good grip on it, considering everything that happened. He didn’t control the politicians, and frankly probably couldn’t spell the words democrat republican if his life depended on it. He couldn’t control fear. He’d learned that way too long ago. That’s why he only ever ran from it, and now, that running brought him to Miami.

And what was so wrong with that, anyway? Isaac couldn’t really understand why this move was a bad thing to Jordan; this place was sunny and warm and had a beach and some random guy playing an instrument Isaac didn’t even know existed on the street corner one block down, what wasn’t to like? Well, Isaac certainly didn’t like Jordan or the attitude he was responding with, since Jordan obviously didn’t seem to like Isaac, either. “Guess what? I’m not human, bitch. I’m a fucking mutant,” Isaac argued, clearly not getting the point as he stepped closer to Jordan’s personal space, as if all five-foot eight of him was intimidating. “And I guess you’ll just have to get used to me, you praying-mantis looking fuck.”

Miami was... different from Chicago. It didn’t have the same gritty feel of home; it had its own grit, or maybe it was the sand still stuck in his shorts from early, but it was a grit different from Chicago. It was sunnier. It was warmer. Honestly, Isaac was excited to get to know it, as evident by the aforementioned sand in his shorts and salt water making his hair curl a bit more than usual. And yet there was a bitter aftertaste when he swallowed, and no, that wasn’t from the sea water he accidentally inhaled when a wave took him out at the knees earlier that day; Chicago was the only home he’d ever known, and within a matter of hours, he’d packed up everything he owned (which wasn’t much, but still) and left it behind, without so much as the chance to say goodbye. Chicago may not have ever been the best home, housing the trouble he’d faced, but it was the only one he knew, and it was there he found his family. Thankfully, his family was accounted for now in Miami, and with nothing tying him to the city of Chicago but a few warrants for his arrest, the sun seemed brighter here, as well.

There was one more person unaccounted for that Isaac would soon learn the presence of. He hadn’t been paying attention, unsurprisingly, as he walked down the street, eyeing the carts selling drinks and the stores selling cheap trinkets (and a shirt that says “never underestimate a woman who is a Dolphins fan and was born in June” which he obviously plans on getting for himself). It was a whole other world out here, painted in various shades of teal and coral and tan, until he quite literally collided with a little piece of the world he once knew. Isaac staggered back a step, nearly tripping over his own flip flops (that have a beer bottle opener on the bottom, he’ll gladly tell anyone) in the process. His head whipped up only to be met with the sight of Jordan. Of all people in the world. Jordan. Great. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked, shocked, and a bit pissed off this cloud had to come over this sunny Miami day. “What, couldn’t get enough of me?”

Date: March 17th Time: 8am Event: 4. The Fall Status: [Closed with replicaticns]

Luke knew. Before long they’d have to head over to the Syndicate Headquarters to meet Alma. He had barely slept last night, thinking about the previous times he was asked to be a weapon. Sure. Being a weapon to protect the Syndicate, fine. That’s an actual fight, that’s different. Being used as protection whilst your boss kills someone, that’s different. 

He stood behind the kitchen counter in their apartment, staring at his plate of toast, whilst a cup of coffee steamed next to him. He wasn’t hungry but ritual had caused him to make the toast anyway. How could he not do as he was asked? All this, the apartment, his family, all safe and partly due to the Syndicate. How could he be anything but blindly loyal? It wasn’t until someone else entered the open plan lounge/kitchen area, and it wasn’t Isabel. 

“You’re up early.” he managed with half a smile. “Going to today’s parade?” 

Isaac had no idea, and that should come as no surprise. Isaac was never clued in on anything, and they were probably right to never keep him in the know, because he was most likely out of everyone to screw things up, so the lest he knew, the better. As a distraction, he didn’t need to know much, other than his target and some light context. And here, well he hadn’t been involved at all, so today was like any other day – well, today was like any other day that also happened to be St. Patrick’s Day.

He was only up early (and by early, it was early for Isaac) because he couldn’t sleep, and also because he was following the wise words of Drake, which is why he wandered into the kitchen in search of something to pre-game with. Usually, he either found the place empty, Isabel and Luke already having started their days, or full with his roommates eating lunch or whatever normal adults did at that hour, but today, he was awake at a more productive time. Isaac eyed Luke’s toast as he made his way to the fridge, breaking eye contact with his friend and his breakfast to search for something to drink. “Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Isaac replied, looking over his shoulder as he answered Luke. “Yeah, I was gonna head out in a couple of hours. What about you guys?”

Jordan rolled his eyes the moment Isaac started talking. Of course. It couldn’t just be a stranger. It had to be him. As if this particular moment in time could get any worse. He steadied himself with a deep breath, before he glanced over his shoulder at Isaac.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand how to appreciate something like this,” he drawled arrogantly. He himself wasn’t really sure what he meant by “someone like you” but he liked to think it was unsavory. He eyed Isaac with an almost condescending look, before he turned his back on him. 

“If it’s so boring, why are you over here? Don’t you have anything better to do than be a pest?” he asked even though he was no longer really giving Isaac the time of day. There was no use being polite to someone so uncouth and irrational as Isaac. Maybe he’d get so pissed off he’d leave Jordan alone, and he would be back in peace and quiet before the little gnat came buzzing around his head. 

Isaac lived to get under the skin of others, and Jordan was no exception. In fact, ever since he met the other athlete, he determined that getting under Jordan’s skin was even more fun, just because of the reactions he got out of it. As a kid whose parents didn’t quite know how to control him, and decided to deal with it by just not even trying, Isaac realized all attention was good attention, and when it entertained him, it was even better.

“Something like what? Having a stick up your ass? Is that where you store your tennis racket?” Isaac retorted. He wasn’t quite sure what someone like you meant, but he knew it was just another thing to add onto the pile of things people said when they didn’t understand him, when they didn’t even try to. Honestly, it kind of fucking sucked. He wasn’t really trying to understand Jordan, either, though, so it wasn’t like this was unfair.

Luke watched the young kid order a rum and coke and smiled. That used to be his favorite drink until the coke started making him feel bloated after two glasses. “I’m Luke. Australia. I’m playing for the soccer team.” He was a striker for his team, everyone appreciated his ability to weave through defenders and end it all with a power-kick. Even his captain call him their weapon. 

“Where you from kid? Is this your first Olympics?” The other looked pretty young, but you never knew these days, more and more of Olympic competitors were of the younger age group these days. 

Isaac was new to a lot of things, and it showed in just about everything around him. He wasn’t sure how other olympians greeted each other, or how he was supposed to behave around someone from technically a rival country (not that he ever much cared for what he was supposed to do, anyway). He wasn’t sure what people who weren’t underaged drinkers who were trying to get fucked up as quickly as possible ordered. Again, he didn’t care, happily accepting his drink and taking a big sip while Luke answered. “Australia? Cool! Do they really have giant spiders and shit there?” Again, probably not the first question someone would ask.

“America,” Isaac answered. “Yeah - skateboarding’s new and so am I,” he replied with a proud grin. “Is it yours?” A lot of people might have felt insecure being such an obvious newcomer, but not Isaac. He was often looked down upon for his young age and immaturity, but when he was underestimated was when he would shine the most.

Where: In the Olympic Village

When: The First Day

Who: Open

The Olympics…

If Jordan was being honest, he hadn’t thought he would get this far. It was something he had trained for, of course, but actually qualifying was very different. As was actually showing up and seeing all of the different people from all different walks of life. It was kind of nice… until people wanted to start talking.

Jordan didn’t really want to talk to his own team or country, let alone strangers, but he was far from rude. He did the greetings and the small talk, and by the time he was done and finally had some time to himself, he felt incredibly drained. All he really wanted to do was sit down by one of those pretty Japanese koi ponds and watch the fish. It was late enough that the sun was starting to set, so he figured he would be alone. He watched the sunlight reflect off of the scales of the fish and the coins in the water and felt soothed, before he heard footsteps behind him.

He froze, his shoulders bunching up instinctively. He hoped that whoever was approaching would turn and leave once they saw him, but it seemed less and less likely as the person got closer and closer. Still, he refused to turn and see them, holding out hope that they just wouldn’t talk to him in anyway.

Isaac had never seen himself in the Olympics, though that was partly because the Olympics had only recently adopted skateboarding into its lineup. Though, Isaac had never seen himself with any of the titles he’d had when he first started out; back then, he was just a kid who loved the rush of dropping down and flying back up on his board, feeling the wind in hair that should have been trapped under a helmet and the sun beaming upon his face. His original motivation to get better was to learn those crazy, cool tricks he saw others do and even make up some of his own, to get more eyes on him and more hands cheering him on. Eventually, doors opened, titles were thrust into his hands, and now his neck itched for that gold medal. Isaac wasn’t usually a sentimental guy, but damn, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be the first person to ever win a gold medal for skateboarding.