and then he just sounds smug:] It comes from me. [this is more true than he knows, but that's an unhappy surprise for a day he dies or leaves this world, and all his dream-things go oddly inert.]
Sometimes if people are around while I squeeze out a big one-- [he shrugs, cocking his head.] They look like they're just getting out of a fuckathon bender after. Or just kinda. Sleepy.
You ever heard of powers like that? [it's the cost-- in energy.]
[and now kavinsky looks utterly impressed without reservation. he whistles, long and low, drawing some glances from nearby students.]
You're not fucking with me, [he observes, eyebrows pitching up.] Holy shit, Mr. L. I gotta make a powers exchange at Target. How did you figure that out?
[maybe it was in the powers dossier, he thinks. kavinsky doesn't tend to read closely.]</small]
At home, I felt the magnetic field of the whole Earth. I raised ships from the bottom of the ocean. I didn't even know what my limits were, then. So... here, it's easier to gauge.
[ And then he smiles at Kavinsky. ]
When I was your age, I could barely lift a car. You should keep practicing.
[this is not advice that kavinsky is accustomed to getting. he and kotetsu work almost always on getting him to sleep without using the drugs, on precision, so that he won't have to try more than once and draw the cost out of people around him. and maybe if erik knew about all that, he'd advocate it too.
but to do things bigger, with greater strength, prowess, that's the first he's heard these words. there's an instant of legitimate self-doubt, where kavinsky wonders if his powers work that way, wonders for there's any equivalent to erik's incredible ability inside himself. but the next moment, he pushes that down.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna do that. [the bird looks at him suspiciously but doesn't comment.] One question. I got my car outside. Can we go and you pick that shit up?
[ Erik stops absentmindedly petting his new pet, and carefully (manually) sets the cage down on a nearby surface, far enough from the edge, high enough away from children in case they're curious.
And then, he makes a gesture, a crook of the finger. ]
Look outside.
[ He makes a guess as to which one is Kavinsky's. He's getting pretty good at this too; generally he has to angle them slightly, with less control over their weight balance. But this frame, he has levitating parallel to the ground. ]
[kavinsky's car is painfully easy to guess. he has the subtlety of jackhammers. it's a racing sedan, white, with a spoiler on the back— contemporary like few vehicles in this world are. powerful engine, tightly tuned suspension. worse yet, it has a giant knife graphic spattered across its flanks, high-definition, big and violent and flashy.
it's a ridiculous car.
and it's flying. floating. whatever.]
..., [kavinsky says, gawking out the window. then,] Holy fucking shit. [he pushes his fingers through his spiky hair, and then toddles over to the glass, peering through with the excitement a little kid would have looking at his first fireworks.] How high could you lift it? If you were really trying. Could you hit a fucking plane?
Sure, but I don't know why I would. Planes move too fast; it's more likely I'd put the car down and stop the plane.
[ It's a lot easier when he's on the plane though. He moves the car a little higher, just for show, zips it up into the sky but definitely not high enough to hit a plane (he doesn't want to get into any trouble in that regard. Again.)
When it becomes about the size of a toy car, he lets it hang for a moment and then brings it back down, slowly slotting it back in its parking spot. Not a scratch. ]
[the whole time, kavinsky stays there with his nose pressed to the glass. almost literally. well, briefly literally-- his face bumps into the window and he pulls back fractionally, sparing an instant to glance around like a cat, wary that his humiliation had an audience.
but then his attention goes outside again. he ends up pushing the window open, in time to see the flying mitsubishi reach its zenith, and then begin to venture back to the earth. he leans further out the window as the car begins to fit itself back into its parking space. his eyebrows climb higher on his forehead as the knife graphic slides into focus, and finally, the tires touch the tarmac.]
...
[he twists around to look at the other man.] Hey, when the Russians came, did you fuck off to Mexico?
No, they kidnapped my grandson and I left for Antarctica.
[ And also he sort of maybe got into a fight with the devil himself? But anyway, small details. ]
Besides, we were trying to avoid a war.
[ They were on submarines; had they been at war, and had they been successful at evacuating, those submarines would be sitting at the bottom of the ocean. He was a lot worse at checking his anger then - undoubtedly he would've killed all those men just to send a message: don't fuck with my family. ]
[that sentence happened a lot. kavinsky finally pulls back from the window, turns around to eye the older man in some surprise. the fact that he isn't close to his family has never prevented kavinsky from understanding that the same does not go for others. occasionally, this is exploitable, something he can use to hurt people.
but after the demonstration just now, that isn't so much on his mind for erik "magneto" lehnsherr. for multiple reasons.]
Why the fuck did you pick Antarctica? [he asks. he steps back toward the older man, cocking his head.] Everybody else was hanging out with mojitos in fucking Tijuana.
[ Well yeah Kavinsky, sorry to say but the last time anyone tried to pry Magneto's family away from him, he actually tried to destroy the world. So, there's that. ]
That's where we were told they might be taken.
[ He considers whether or not he wants to tell Kavinsky more about his background-- but he decides against it. This isn't the time for that. ]
[kavinsky is not an animal of frequent hesitation. and when he hesitates, it looks a little blank, reptilian, more like a gps recalculating than a person with a soul wondering for his own safety and the sanctity of his hopes and dreams.
but alliances are important. valuable.]
Thinking about some weapons, [he says, glancing around as if he's looking for eavesdroppers. in reality, he's watching out of his periphery for a flinch from magneto, testing the waters. kotetsu doesn't like his padawan messing around with what he messes around with, and kavinsky is careful not to overshare with his favorite professor. but magneto.] And uh. While ago, some guy told me the government is probably a bag of assholes. If I knew about satellites, I'd make one of those. Might just stick with a flying car.
[ But if he really wants one, Erik would refer him to Tony. What's the worst that could happen?
Anyway. ]
What kind of weapons were you thinking?
[ He's just curious-- honestly, if anything, he'd try to convince Kavinsky not to build them. As much of a poster child for war as he is, what he really wants is to avoid it. Avoid it, or come out on top. There isn't another way. ]
[kavinsky smiles reflexively at the talk of licenses. you have to love this city, where a flying car might get your license revoked but murdering enough people, or stealing the declaration of independence, only gets you so much jail time.
at the other question, he shrugs up one narrow shoulder.] Haven't made up my mind, [he answers, honestly enough. he's still trying to gain a foothold out here with running some very fundamental guns.] Guess we already beat an army. And maybe we got other enemies. [a smile tugs his mouth, thin as razor wire.]
[kavinsky nods his head in agreement-- not perturbed by this proposition in the slightest.] Hell yeah. Better to lead than to follow, man.
And better to have it to sell. Than be dick-deep in Communist invaders, trying to get them off with a metaphorical machete nobody's invented yet. You get me? [erik will be forgiven if he doesn't get him because normal people definitely don't talk this way. kavinsky smiles, all white teeth and skinny-shouldered shrugs.]
You get it. You went to Antarctica 'cause you got it.
[ Every world has already invented its greatest weapon yet. He's heard tales from the others who've come here-- of invaders from space, of weapons meant to torture before they kill, because destruction wasn't enough. ]
[kavinsky weaves his head side-to-side thoughtfully. which is something— his answers are still nihilistically turdish, but it could be worse. he's definitely not being dismissive.
one does not simply dismiss magneto's existential questions about death and destruction after a car-lifting demonstration.] If there's a market for it, you get paid, [he says.] If there ain't, it's time to revise your fucking product. Hey. What's your job in this dump dimension?
[kavinsky's eyes crinkle. he studies the older man for a long moment.]
Same as anyone else.
[like they're talking about traveling between universes. as if that's all, when he segues smoothly,] Why do you give a fuck? I can't tear the world apart before your grandkid gets old. Before you're gone.
[no; he's still talking about the weapons. it's a rare moment of humility, his admission-- he doesn't really think about ending the world anymore. not lately.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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and then he just sounds smug:] It comes from me. [this is more true than he knows, but that's an unhappy surprise for a day he dies or leaves this world, and all his dream-things go oddly inert.]
Or Wal-Mart. Either way.
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I don't see any missing fingers.
[ Unless he's making stuff with like. Spit. Or worse. Listen. Let's not go there. ]
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Sometimes if people are around while I squeeze out a big one-- [he shrugs, cocking his head.] They look like they're just getting out of a fuckathon bender after. Or just kinda. Sleepy.
You ever heard of powers like that? [it's the cost-- in energy.]
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[ Lucky Erik, that doesn't really scale for him. ]
What's your limit?
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What do you mean?
[a beat.] What's yours?
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There are...
[ Insert number ] ships currently sitting in Heropa's harbors. The most I could lift at one time would be...
[ He thinks, for a second. ]
Probably twenty of them.
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You're not fucking with me, [he observes, eyebrows pitching up.] Holy shit, Mr. L. I gotta make a powers exchange at Target. How did you figure that out?
[maybe it was in the powers dossier, he thinks. kavinsky doesn't tend to read closely.]</small]
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At home, I felt the magnetic field of the whole Earth. I raised ships from the bottom of the ocean. I didn't even know what my limits were, then. So... here, it's easier to gauge.
[ And then he smiles at Kavinsky. ]
When I was your age, I could barely lift a car. You should keep practicing.
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but to do things bigger, with greater strength, prowess, that's the first he's heard these words. there's an instant of legitimate self-doubt, where kavinsky wonders if his powers work that way, wonders for there's any equivalent to erik's incredible ability inside himself. but the next moment, he pushes that down.]
Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna do that. [the bird looks at him suspiciously but doesn't comment.] One question. I got my car outside. Can we go and you pick that shit up?
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And then, he makes a gesture, a crook of the finger. ]
Look outside.
[ He makes a guess as to which one is Kavinsky's. He's getting pretty good at this too; generally he has to angle them slightly, with less control over their weight balance. But this frame, he has levitating parallel to the ground. ]
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it's a ridiculous car.
and it's flying. floating. whatever.]
..., [kavinsky says, gawking out the window. then,] Holy fucking shit. [he pushes his fingers through his spiky hair, and then toddles over to the glass, peering through with the excitement a little kid would have looking at his first fireworks.] How high could you lift it? If you were really trying. Could you hit a fucking plane?
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[ It's a lot easier when he's on the plane though. He moves the car a little higher, just for show, zips it up into the sky but definitely not high enough to hit a plane (he doesn't want to get into any trouble in that regard. Again.)
When it becomes about the size of a toy car, he lets it hang for a moment and then brings it back down, slowly slotting it back in its parking spot. Not a scratch. ]
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but then his attention goes outside again. he ends up pushing the window open, in time to see the flying mitsubishi reach its zenith, and then begin to venture back to the earth. he leans further out the window as the car begins to fit itself back into its parking space. his eyebrows climb higher on his forehead as the knife graphic slides into focus, and finally, the tires touch the tarmac.]
...
[he twists around to look at the other man.] Hey, when the Russians came, did you fuck off to Mexico?
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[ And also he sort of maybe got into a fight with the devil himself? But anyway, small details. ]
Besides, we were trying to avoid a war.
[ They were on submarines; had they been at war, and had they been successful at evacuating, those submarines would be sitting at the bottom of the ocean. He was a lot worse at checking his anger then - undoubtedly he would've killed all those men just to send a message: don't fuck with my family. ]
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but after the demonstration just now, that isn't so much on his mind for erik "magneto" lehnsherr. for multiple reasons.]
Why the fuck did you pick Antarctica? [he asks. he steps back toward the older man, cocking his head.] Everybody else was hanging out with mojitos in fucking Tijuana.
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That's where we were told they might be taken.
[ He considers whether or not he wants to tell Kavinsky more about his background-- but he decides against it. This isn't the time for that. ]
So, do you know what you'll make next?
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but alliances are important. valuable.]
Thinking about some weapons, [he says, glancing around as if he's looking for eavesdroppers. in reality, he's watching out of his periphery for a flinch from magneto, testing the waters. kotetsu doesn't like his padawan messing around with what he messes around with, and kavinsky is careful not to overshare with his favorite professor. but magneto.] And uh. While ago, some guy told me the government is probably a bag of assholes. If I knew about satellites, I'd make one of those. Might just stick with a flying car.
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[ But if he really wants one, Erik would refer him to Tony. What's the worst that could happen?
Anyway. ]
What kind of weapons were you thinking?
[ He's just curious-- honestly, if anything, he'd try to convince Kavinsky not to build them. As much of a poster child for war as he is, what he really wants is to avoid it. Avoid it, or come out on top. There isn't another way. ]
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at the other question, he shrugs up one narrow shoulder.] Haven't made up my mind, [he answers, honestly enough. he's still trying to gain a foothold out here with running some very fundamental guns.] Guess we already beat an army. And maybe we got other enemies. [a smile tugs his mouth, thin as razor wire.]
Why? [misunderstanding.] You want some?
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I find the more we make weapons, the more everyone else plays catch-up.
[ Though he was foolish enough once to believe that he could be that weapon, and all would cower before him.
That would have worked, actually, which was the thing: Apocalypse built a weapon so great there would be nothing left to lord over in the first place.
Erik would do the same. ]
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And better to have it to sell. Than be dick-deep in Communist invaders, trying to get them off with a metaphorical machete nobody's invented yet. You get me? [erik will be forgiven if he doesn't get him because normal people definitely don't talk this way. kavinsky smiles, all white teeth and skinny-shouldered shrugs.]
You get it. You went to Antarctica 'cause you got it.
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And what if that machete's already been invented?
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one does not simply dismiss magneto's existential questions about death and destruction after a car-lifting demonstration.] If there's a market for it, you get paid, [he says.] If there ain't, it's time to revise your fucking product. Hey. What's your job in this dump dimension?
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He moves on. ]
I work in a garage nearby.
[ It's good work, it keeps him out of trouble. ]
How'd you end up here?
lmk if the emotional recognition is too infomod, i don't mind at all editing
Same as anyone else.
[like they're talking about traveling between universes. as if that's all, when he segues smoothly,] Why do you give a fuck? I can't tear the world apart before your grandkid gets old. Before you're gone.
[no; he's still talking about the weapons. it's a rare moment of humility, his admission-- he doesn't really think about ending the world anymore. not lately.]
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