SAVIOR

“Oh, thanks-” Scotch… Whisky? Now that was a drink loved in Bilgewater, but…

“Wait, milk and whisky? Wouldn’t that just like, curdle? I dunno… I kind of wanna try it now though…”

Just like Moriss, this man swears like a sailor as well. Comparing people has seem to become a thing for the boy. Perhaps because it just made it easier for him to go on in Hive City….for the most part. The tip of his fingers grazes upon the sheathed wooden sword, but he doesn’t make a move to pull it out. Not like he did before. This is just a habit of his to keep himself distracted in any way possible. 

The boy is fairly calm when the other taps his bat against the top of his head. This creates the raven strand of hair to stand on end, and it creates that feeling that tells him of such. The more he listens to this man speak, the more he feels….well, uncomfortable. Probably in his world, he’s dangerous. He wonders if there’s a lot of dangerous people in his world, or if he’s the only one. Since Klause is still just a child, he’s a curious one. Questions after questions are beginning to form in the back of his head.

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “not that I’m afraid of them…I’m not….I was just thinking.” Voice falls into a mumble. Also not to mention but Klause isn’t really the type to smile. 

What a sad boy. 

“Thinking won’t do shit.” 

Answers were blunt and curt, dipping and ebbing in flow. One moment he had appeared to sound serious, and the next he sounded jolly and cheery. Negan drew back his beloved bat and ended up resting it over his shoulder, slinging it calmly and with precise ease. 

“You fight, you win. You be a badass. That’s how it is. You stand here and think and you’re vulnerable. You listening to me, kid?” 

He takes a step back, swinging his bat in the air like some restless child, but with extreme force. Though it may have been wrapped up, it still made a sound when it cut through the air with the momentum he brung it down with. Repeating the action a couple of times, almost as a demonstration. 

“You hit ‘em. You hit ‘em HARD. Fear is your weakness. Hesitation makes you weak.” 

“Yeah, I’m American all right. Long Island, pretty much spent all my days there, unless when duty calls and I have to fly all across the world and space. Wait, what incident are you talking about? From the sounds of it, I sure hope that we’re talking different timelines here and not the future of our own world.. To be honest with you, money does mean a lot to me, I mean, I do run a company after all, and someone’s gotta fund the Avengers.. but we’re not paid for that, no, so I guess I can see your point.”

“I’m not about to get in your way, well, especially after that. But you must also understand why I’m suspicious, I wouldn’t want this to come back and bite me in the ass.”

“Holy swiss cheese. Ain’t you the high class type. You ain’t heard..? Could’ve done with superheroes back where I was from, would’ve stopped us having to purge.” He held his arms out -- wide and open, extended as his lungs soaked in every ounce of oxygen before his huge announcement, 

“So! Probably the most important question of the holiday season;”

“Mulled wine, mulled cider, or cocoa with cream liqueur?”

Tony spotted that, shifting a bit while he stood in front of the other man; he did seem annoyed with Tony being too careful and somehow reserved, but he wasn’t going to go around promising things to every strange he met just because they knew who he was.

“You seem to get where I’m coming from; sorry for wanting to take some time to get to you know, you see, these things get to backfire when you’re not that careful.. I’m sure that you can imagine. Money to me is, well, my job. It doesn’t mean as much as it did back home, but being the CEO of a multimillionaire company is..something. Where do you come from? That society must be really weird.”

“Yeah, not all of them wear tights, I don’t, Cap used to but his uniform is different nowadays.. we all had our different phases, you see. Just a second here, there’s no catch in this bargain, right? I just give you a better bat and you are doing some security jobs for me? Is that all?

“I read you. Loud and clear. Man...” He whistles, “You have no fucking idea.It’s a paradise, see, you’re American, right? I guess you’re from before the incident --- you lucky son of a bitch. Anyway, we had a reset, and where I’m from I’m the one calling the shots. So I get you, we’re on the same level, you and I. No money, no cares, we use our abilities as currency.” 

He’s studying the man. He’s as tall as Moriss, that’s for sure. Though, as tall as he is, he’s built like his own father was. The way he carries himself is that of pride and confidence. Klause isn’t sure how old this man can be, but maybe around his 40s? Maybe even 50s? Who knows. He could be way off. Now, to his weapon. The weapon itself is a bat. That’s what he knows. He’s seen it being used a few times back at home by children who loved playing ball with it. What’s covering the weapon is something he’s found himself confused over. With those little pops looking thing, he’s not sure if it’s dangerous or not.

Either way, the way this man lowers his posture and keeps eye contact with the boy confirms that the uneasyness he’s feeling from this adult is not just in his mind. It’s really there. Never mind the bubble wrapped baseball. Klause is sure that he would harm someone if given the chance. 

Klause really doesn’t like fighting so naturally, he wouldn’t provoke. If this man decides to take a swing, more than likely Klause will just…let him. 

“Yes, I was about to.” He answers with honesty. “Sector 004 is known to have monster wolves at night. I wasn’t sure what you were. My apologies.” Those damned wolves, Klause has been attacked by multiple when he first arrived. 

Eye contact doesn’t last long either. It’s a habit of his and so…Those green eyes that are known to be a sin lowers and they stay on the ground and his sword is being placed into its scabbard.

Lucille was a work in progress. It did anger him more than anything -- what they’d done, how they’d DEFILED her the way she was. She used to be a vampire bat; barbed wire and solid wood that packed a hell of a punch, but now she was made of plastic and covered with something that would make him seem like some sort of a joke. Well, let them laugh, he liked jokes. It wouldn’t be a joke when he finally got what he wanted... 

And he ALWAYS got what he wanted. 

With no fear, and absolute confidence he raises the plastic bat and taps the boy on the head with the bubble wrapped edge -- a soft scuffling of plastic making a noise while it lightly made contact with the top of the young mans hair, static probably causing strands to stand on edge -- before he laughed. 

“Well, that’s what I like to hear, a good apology. Now, why the long face, kid? Mistakes were made, apologies were made, it’s all good. See, the best way to take care of wolves, is to be one of ‘em.” 

“Negan, huh? Pleasure to meet you. You came all the way here to ask me to replace your baseball bat huh? It must mean a whole lot to you.. I hope that you don’t expect a rocket propelled baseball or barbed wire wrapped up all around it, because I don’t have  intentions to do so.. I’m sure that you can buy an actual bat around here, but you’re so keen on getting one done by me.. I can make it, that’s not a problem, but it’s not going to be all fancy.. You seem to be a man who knows what he wants, I’m sure that if you had ulterior motives the current bat would do just fine, right? Well, I’m kind of co-leading a superhero team so.. we’re mostly covered in terms of muscle. Stark Industries could do with more security personnel I suppose..”

Fuck--- an edge of frustration almost brewed in his eyes, before he threw his head back and laughed it off. At least if he managed to get this guy to upgrade his bat from a piece of plastic to wood -- at least --- it would be a start. 

“Rocket propelled? That’d be AWESOME. But I suppose, you just met me, right? Here I come, asking you to make me a bat. No, can’t buy them around here. Money to me is... Well, it’s a load of shit. I don’t deal with money. Back where I’m from we pay in favours, we pay in LOYALTY. That’s what I can do for ya. And oh, boy, do I know what I want.” 

“Correction, I do make SOME stuff - exoskeleton suits, fully weaponized, but for qualified people like myself. I’m more into..let’s say, technology in general rather than weapons. Had some bad, eye opening experiences with them in the past. Hm, I can’t say I can see the link between baseball and weapons, but go on. I am a fan of everything American, if you must know. Didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

salvatorcm 

Klause isn’t the type to complain. He really isn’t, and that’s why he’s been keeping everything bottled inside. Right now, it’s just getting harder and harder for him to pretend everything is okay when it isn’t. He knows there’s no way back home, but he really can’t help but continue hoping that maybe there is. Maybe there’s a loophole, a portal, or something. 

Klause has been looking for answers and hasn’t found anything. To say that he’s a bit frustrated would be slightly of an understatement. He’s over here, doing whatever he can and while he’s here who the hell KNOWS what’s going on back home. Praying and hoping that both Miyena and Moriss are okay isn’t going to be enough. The gods here and the gods back home are probably different. Who’s going to hear him?

“…..” Without realizing, he lets out a sigh which sounds close to irritation and anger. These are definitely emotions that don’t show. They’re quite rare coming from Klause. 

There’s a lot of things he’s learned from his father and Moriss and that’s to have eyes everywhere. As distracted as he is about what’s going on, Klause was still able to react to what was around him, and that’s why he’s no longer sitting, but standing with his wooden sword in hand. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, so when he sees an adult, he’s lowering his sword, but keeping it by him and bowing his head lightly. He doesn’t know this guy, but something about him is….unsettling. 

Whistling fills the air; ever so cheery and perky. His posture remains tall as he swings his de-fanged Lucille, his plastic bat (now covered in bubblewrap thanks to the know-it-alls that put him in this new place) - each step of his heavy military grade boots (stolen earned, naturally) clunked on the ground and carried him with that sense of pride he seemed to retain even though in this place he had absolutely NOTHING. This wasn’t like home; this for him was a new beginning, a new PLAYGROUND. He wasn’t the type to approach with pessimism - particularly given the amount of naive souls around this place, all so easy to manipulate. It wouldn’t take long for someone to do his grunt work for him, but climbing the ranks would be a challenge he was willing to accept. 

His body sways to the melody he whistles; ‘Hit the Road Jack’ - appropriate, he thinks. Then again, all of his tunes have a meaning to them. He’s having a great day, so far as it goes. Boring without walkers to pulverise, but still nothing to complain about. That’s when he sees a young man spring up --- wooden sword in his hand and ready to swing. His own plastic bat almost wanted to swing back -- fingers curling around the handle, but it was a kid. If anything, the ex-baseball coach had a thing for kids, leniency some might call it, to some degree. But there was only so much damage a plastic baseball bat could do, covered in that plastic popping barrier. He showed no fear, just the craving to teach someone a lesson. He’d always been a teacher at heart - the hard way, or the easy way. 

He paused, watching the weapon lower. Standing RIGHT in front of the other and whistling loudly before shaking his head and lowering his posture, just so he could make further eye contact ---