tolaywaste | 9. » voice, filtered to INMATES only

[They pick up an easy rhythm quickly, the two of them, Alex well-aware that he's not as good at this as Ben is but keeping up the trash talk in between moving to catch, throw, keep up.]

[His pitches get better, too, as they go. It's been too long since he's just had time to do this - he threw a ball around once or twice with Sean back home, but Sean's weedy and Ben knows what he's doing, and it's kind of awesome just to be normal for ten minutes.]

[One of the good things that Manticore gave him, one of the things he does enjoy the most, is the easy athleticism; he was designed to excel at physical tasks and maneuvers, and while he's slightly too long-limbed to be the quickest in his unit, while he's too lean to be the strongest, he's plenty coordinated for this. He very rarely misses what Alex throws him no matter how fast or hard or high the pitches come; furthermore, as Alex settles in opposite him, Ben's returns become more challenging as well, though he simply isn't an aggressive opponent.

He also learned, with Bucky, that his endurance far outstrips that of most humans; he'll play all afternoon, until they run up against another obligation, but he's watching carefully. When Alex is tired, Ben finally keeps the ball and comes trotting back down the deck, bright eyed and smiling to drop down to a neat, cross-legged sit near the railing and their remaining extra baseball, his glove in his lap.]

Not bad. [Then his smile quirks slightly crooked, and there's that mystery person again, shaping him without being here as he clearly quotes him.] We'll make a player out of you yet.

[Alex quirks a brow, puzzled but pleased - somebody else coming out of Ben's mouth, it's weird, but it's got to be somebody Ben liked a lot or he wouldn't be acting this way. It's impossible not to grin in response.]

Yeah, sure. Only if we do this pretty often, though, you know? Or I might get out of practice.

[The very thinly veiled subtext is an invitation. He wants to play. He wants to be a kid for a little while, and if he can, he wants Ben to be a kid with him.]

You wanna do something else?

[Ben smiles readily back, as close to relaxed as he ever is outside the confines of his own cabin, of a conversation he's become deeply involved in enough to be distracted out of his shell.]

You're already out of practice. We'll need to begin with a rigorous training schedule, probably.

[Which is his agreement, of course, insofar as Ben ever teases. It's also, along with Alex's question, the perfect segue to what he's been considering ever since he received Alex's transmission, quietly in the back of his mind while they played baseball.]

Yes. I've decided to help you. [This with an uncommon finality; Ben doesn't have very many useful skills for this setting, but he is absolutely certain of one of the few he does, and as certain that he is better qualified than Alex to extend it as an offer.

Not that he would to the Barge as a unit, but to certain members of it, yes.] When you have rested, we should see what we can do for each other to... physically prepare for the worst.

My warden will not disapprove.

[He's decided.]

[Cool.]

[Alex grins at him, a little tentative, but - he wants to help, and that's pretty fantastic. If Alex can make things a little normal and fun for a few minutes, if that's what he can contribute, a few moments of quiet, and Ben can help them get ready for whatever's on the horizon, he's fine with that.]

I think that's a really good idea.

[The approval feels good, and Ben's expression softens somehow beneath it; he's always sought it out, but this is the first time in a long time it feels clean, solid. He will help Alex learn the things he knows - the fighting, not the killing, he already knows Alex doesn't like the killing - and others will not look at him sidelong and wonder what's wrong with him, why he's different, why he knows this.

Maybe.

He smiles for a moment, and when that fades, it's just the intent, critical fix of his eyes, the set of his features, that he gets sometimes when presented with a mathematical problem or a puzzle; something to make work how it's supposed to, something to make work better. The dreamer, the storyteller is gone. It's just the soldier now.]

Do you have any combat training at all, Alex?

Me?

[He falters. Yes and no. It's a complicated answer, and it's mixed in with memories and things he misses and doesn't miss, stress that hurts and moments that he'd give almost anything to have back.]

I have some. Not anywhere near enough.

[That's not going to do; training is training, it has nothing to do with emotions. Combat is combat, the only pain allowed is physical pain and it's a simple equation: cause more than is caused.

This, Ben can already tell, is what will kill Alex if anything will. He breathes in, pushing to his feet.]

No, not enough. I don't have time to go easy on you. You don't have time. [That's a simple equation, too: Ben wants Alex to survive. He needs as much information, as much training, as Ben can give him in the time that they have.

It's not love to withhold the lessons he learned if they could save Alex's life, or those of the people with Alex, that he cares about. Ben holds out a hand.] Do you understand?

I understand.

[The answer comes instantly. He does understand. Ben has his best interests at heart. He understands, and trust him implicitly. Ben will do everything in his power to keep him alive, even if he can't be by his side when danger comes.]

[Alex, in turns, will do everything to keep the danger from swallowing Ben whole; he will train with him, he will ensure that they both stay alive, but more than that, he'll make sure Ben survives. He'll fight tooth and nail to keep Ben from sinking back into just being a soldier.]

[Ben will keep him safe; Alex will keep Ben Ben. Not X5-493, but Ben, his friend, his family. That's what Alex can do, here.]

[He takes Ben's hand, pulls himself up firmly and with wholehearted trust.]

Do what you think is right, what you need to do. I trust you.

[The trust, not only the statement of it but the show of it, makes Ben hesitate a moment, though he helps pull Alex up first. It's been a long time since anyone's trusted him, since he's been trustworthy.

It's been a long time since he's felt trustworthy. But this, he can do. This he can absolutely do. His answer is to turn away towards the door to the CTS, where he'll eventually fetch up against the door while he waits for Alex to let them in - which he stops him from at the last moment, realizing he hasn't ever been in there and where he'd like to start can be done right here, right now.]

The best tactic to employ in a hostile environment, or an overwhelming situation, is to attempt to avoid an altercation in the first place. Vigilance, caution, and strategic reconnaissance if possible. Retreat if necessary. Awareness of the surroundings, where you might end up cornered, where you can corner others.

This is undervalued by far too many, especially those to whom things like strength, proficiency, and safety are assumed. [He pauses, straightening up to glance around the deck area. He's already well aware of the cover areas, the choke points, the lines of sight. He has been almost from day one.] The deck is a terrible site for defense. Tell me three reasons why.

[Alex has his warden item out, a small smooth piece of stone, easy to hold in the palm of his hand, but stops when Ben does, listens to his question. Thinks about it.]

It's too open. There's nowhere to hide. Um. There's also nowhere to dodge to. Too many entrances . . .

[He glances at Ben questioningly. More or less right? He knows he's missed a lot.]

[Ben doesn't nod but he never does. He does shift his weight slightly closer in acknowledgement and expounds on the basic - and correct - features Alex just pointed out.

Ben is pointing as he speaks without hesitation. He's already considered all of this, daily.]

There's a main entrance from belowdecks around that corner, providing perfect cover and escape for you but also a critical blind spot if you're not aware of it; any wardens would be able to escape up the stairs to the upper levels or into the CES and CTS, but inmates would be cornered. There's also the unique and relatively high risk of being knocked overboard, and the extreme ease with which anyone on deck can be cut off from the rest of the ship by blocking a handful of doorways.

Nothing to use as a weapon in the event of being unarmed when an assault starts, or of losing or breaking your primary weapon. The deck is a prime battlefield for people like you, with broad-range superpowers and abilities, but not for people like me, who would need to fight in close range or with the assistance of armaments.

Edited 2013-06-18 20:35 (UTC)

[Alex doesn't nod, either. It wouldn't mean anything in this context; Ben knows he's listening. Not that he thinks of it that explicitly, that consciously, but on some level he knows that things like that are unnecessary here.]

[Instead he just listens, very intently, eyes following Ben's direction. He frowns hard at the mention of the CES and CTS - he doesn't like that thought, that some people might be better protected than others in the event of an emergency, and stores the thought away for later, when they're not working.]

So, besides knowing exactly where everything is - entrances and the rails and everything - what do you do? How do you make yourself less vulnerable?

[Ben doesn't bother assigning any of these facts anything like an emotional attachment; he doesn't think of them as fair or unfair or anything in between. He's simply prioritized them in his mind, and acknowledges each as they become pertinent, as they are useful.

The question, though, gets an approving glance.]

Be aware of yourself, and your own capabilities. Have a realistic idea of them, colored by neither pride nor self-deprecation. Sometimes the best that can be done is staying out of the way of more capable passengers, especially as there are those who would distract themselves from being useful for defense of the ship as a whole in order to defend only a few members of the population.

[He doesn't, here, pause long. But he does glance directly at Alex before turning back to the CTS door.] I can't help you with your powers. But I can help you with other, basic physical abilities that any humanoid individual can perform.

[And of course the finer points of being a paranoid soldier convinced - and largely justified in this conviction - that the entire world is literally out to get him.]

Edited 2013-06-22 03:45 (UTC)

Right.

[Be aware of yourself and your own capabilities - well. Alex tends to fall on the self-deprecating side of that spectrum, but people around him tend to paint too glowing a picture of his own control. Bruce is capable of telling him when he's not living up to his potential, and Erik, sometimes, but Ben is probably most capable of dispassionately assessing where he stands.]

[Alex looks to him.]

Tell me where I'm weakest. Where I should start.

I have my own personal thoughts on the matter, but I would like to see them confirmed or discounted before I can make an accurate assessment. I'd like to see what you can do, now.

[Normally he'd be more polite about it, less forward; but he already warned Alex, and this is only logical. He's studying the door, having never had remotely any interest in going beyond it since its appearance.]

I am unfamiliar with how this room works. Will it be safe to use your powers inside of it?

Yeah, it will be.

[He says this with a confidence he still doesn't wholly feel, but which is a lot stronger than it was a few months ago. He's learned a lot here. Keeps learning a lot.]

[He's pretty sure Ben will tell him he's holding back. That's part of why he's glad they're doing this. Ben, like Bruce, knows how to push.]

Good.

[There's not much hesitation after that, though Ben switches modes as clearly as he had when they got up off their rest on the deck: he slips through the door on cat-silent feet, shoulders tense with wariness, and begins immediately looking around, hands held loosely at his sides.

It's not dark inside but it's not bright, either, the sky overhead overcast and making the world beneath it mostly silvers and greys and blacks. Ben doesn't mark any features at first, merely taking in everything he can see in terms of landscape, hiding places and choke points and open spaces. It takes him a few moments to identify a crumbling parking garage instead of potential cover, a rusted chain link fence instead of a barrier, a swing hanging with one chain broken from the set amongst the other scattered playground toys in the open field to their left. They're standing in a street and Ben cares only, for a moment, that it's empty.

Well. Mostly empty. The transgenic's attention snaps to the sky, eyes narrowing, when he hears the distinct and dreaded sound of helicopter blades slicing through the thick air. He doesn't panic, exactly, but he does begin moving quickly towards the parking garage.]

Come on.

[A couple of months ago, Alex might have been frightened by Ben's sudden shift into soldier mode. He had wanted, at least on some level, to help Ben get rid of it, so that he could be normal, or at least a normal level of freak. But now he understands better, he thinks. This is part of Ben and will be forever. He can be more than that, if he wants, he can add things, but he will never be rid of this entirely.]

[Alex does not follow Ben's gaze; instead he takes in what he can, hoping that he's looking to the right places. He looks for cover, looks for weapons, looks for danger.]

[Then he looks to Ben, nods, follows his command with verbal response. He walks several steps behind, and to his credit, while he's not silent, he is very quiet.]

[Ben is quick to lead them into the parking garage, deep enough in that they won't be easily visible from the street, but not so far as to take them into any danger that might be lurking there. He stops by a column, putting his back to it and with eyes never still in the measured scan of their surroundings, unhindered by the slightly increased darkness; he can see to the end of the level by telescoping his vision and does so, though he doesn't bother telling Alex that.

He can see things moving down there, but not yet what they are around the hopelessly broken remnants of the vehicles that were once parked here.]

What do you suggest? [Ben's voice is low, pitched between the two of them as he twists to look back out the way they just came.]

[He panics instantly. What does he mean, what do you suggest? He doesn't suggest anything, he's not supposed to be leading - ]

[But he swallows the panic as best he can. There is an expectant look in Ben's eyes, and Alex knows this is some kind of test, or at least an assessment of his skills.]

[What does he suggest? He hears . . . something. What is it?]

There's something - that way. [He points in the direction of the sounds.] Not moving, stationary. But a lot of somethings.

[He glances left, right, then back the way they came. Frowns. In the end, he points left; the way is clearer to the left, and while it's not completely away from the potential danger, it's not towards it, either.]

[Ben does not panic. He warned Alex of this, and the part of him that is now and ever will be Alex's friend is somewhat dismayed to see the reaction, but that's for later. Here, now, Ben returns his attention steadily to the younger mutant, unwavering and attentive. He isn't normally given much to verbal cues but now the tables have completely turned.

Ben nods, accepting both the information he was already aware of, Alex's explanation of it, and his tentative instruction. The X5 motions for him to go first, falling into step behind.

He's heard it's best not to be in front of Alex, should he need to use his powers.]

[He moves ahead, trusting Ben to have his back, to look and listen in ways that Alex can't, to have an eye out for danger and to warn him of it should it come. In the meantime, he is fine going on the offensive. He knows he has a type of pure offensive power that others don't. He knows he can kill easily.]

[He'd rather not, but it'd be easy.]

[He understands the decision tactically, accepts it without a word, and moves as quietly as he can, trusting to Ben to give further direction.]

[Ben does have his back, following behind and matching Alex's movement so closely, so instinctively that they might have been tied together with a metal pipe: he goes when Alex goes, stops when Alex stops, and watches his friend for instructions. Which is when it will probably become apparent that no, Ben isn't giving further direction.

It's Alex's show.

The X5 can hear the creatures closing; he even knows how many there are. He knows they should go left when Alex takes them right, but he doesn't say anything, he just covers their six and follows.

There's no exit other than the one they came through, not that isn't blocked by a heap of collapsed cement and metal rods; the second story is enclosed, and the helicopters pass by overhead, the thump and whoosh of their rotor blades echoing in the brittle stairwell, drawing the attention of the creatures upward.

Ben stops halfway through level three, searching for the top half of the collapse on the ground level, agreeing that investigating to see if they can climb down is a viable plan. Unfortunately, the creatures are going to catch up to them, first. He doesn't say anything to Alex. He just reaches forward and lays two fingertips on his shoulder, and stops himself; twisting, he puts their backs to one another, and drops into a subtle, ready defensive stance, eyes scanning out away from them.]

Ready? [Somewhere deep in his gut there's a sharp thrum of anticipation, equal parts inherent anxiety and learned eagerness, but he's steady as his voice to all external appearances.]

[It's disconcerting at first, but it's also a very effective technique. There's no way to get out of leading now, not given that they're in immediate danger, that Ben, it seems, is depending on him and not the other way around.]

[It's sneaky. But he has to hand it to Ben. It's working.]

[He gets more confident the farther they go, getting used to this - guerrilla movements, rather than confrontation. He stops when Ben signals, noting what he's noted: that they can't run anymore. That they have to fight.]

[The only answer is a nod. Yes, he's ready. And strangely, he's not afraid. They can handle what's coming.]

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