Penance

Robbie asked for the weekend off. There weren't any outstanding missions on the to-do list, nothign that needed his unique skill set (getting punched a lot and still fighting), so the time wasn't hard to get. Osborn probably thought, he figured, that Baldwin had something planned related to that Nexus prom that was coming up.

And, well, if that was the case, he was right. Sort of.
Robbie shows up at Njoki's doorstep with his usual clothes, a plastic bag with a change of the same, and an anticipatory little grin. Oh, this is going to be cool.

Knock, knock!

When they all start screaming, at first he thinks it's the telepaths' fault. It's a reasonable assumption.

It isn't until later that he finds out that it was, yes, but they didn't mean to do it. One of them had tried to look in a part of Director Osborn's mind that they shouldn't have -- which wouldn't have resulted in much, except for the fact that thanks to his time in the Nexus, 'things in Osborn's mind that you shouldn't look at' is a category containing a vast amount of knowledge and memory related to various Lovecraftian beings and secrets beyond all time and space.

The telepathic feedback, pain and terror and terrible, mad knowing, is enough to drop even Samson to his knees, as Robbie looks on in terrified, telepathically immune bewilderment.

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Coffee and video games in the Sanctuary loft, while they hid from a Lovecraftian... something or other. An unexpected slap to the side, and -- a rainbow of bubbles, leaving behind blue and orange not-spandex as they faded. Glee, until he moved too fast and tried too hard to keep it. (Until, later that night, he thought harder about what the costume meant.)

He meant to report it. Of course he did. (So he tells himself.) Not that night -- he came back too late, everyone but the guards asleep or gone -- but at the briefing that morning. He meant to, but...

He doesn't have a danger sense. (He doesn't even have a sense of self-preservation.) But there's something about the atmosphere today that makes the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the way Mr. Osborn smiles and the restless movement of Venom's symbiotic skin. The words die in his throat, and he says nothing.

There is nothing that bodes well about Director Osborn disappearing from the Mountain this late at night. Especially when he returns with Robert Baldwin, covered in blood and crying uncontrollably.

Especially when he ushers the boy, his arms wrapped protectively around him, into his quarters, ignoring all questioning from the guards.

It's a long night.

23:59 Mr_Todd walks in, quietly, but that's to be expected. Look, Dr. Grey, he has both hands!
0:00 Robbie makes a rusty, rattle-y sound that might be a chuckle. "Mr. Osborn makes the selections. And he's sorta..." ( Collapse )

23:55 Robbie walks in! Um, to speak of crazy. He seems to be in a troublingly good mood, for him, a vague little smile on his face and his thumbs stuck in the pockets of his hoodie. :]
23:55 Guildenstern feels like he might be interupting something-or-another, so he mummbles a 'hello,' before finding a seat and taking it.
23:56 Ivy_Weaver frowns slightly at the coffee maker. "I think I put in too much water."
23:56 Guildenstern ...Hello. I have no idea how to make coffee.
23:57 SomeThing pivots, completely and utterly distracted. ( Collapse )

Album cover (Graphic, self-harm triggers)

hxxp://www.mediafire.com/?g9gwt3d3thc

Depeche Mode, "A Pain That I'm Used To" - I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore / I just know that I'm harder to console / I don't see who I'm trying to be instead of me / But the key is a question of control

Turbonegro, "All My Friends Are Dead" - I always knew that they would end up like today / They bought the bullet and they paid with hand grenades / (Hey! Hey! Hey!) / All my dreams were lies, all my dreams were lies / Lemme see the skies, all my dreams were lies

Uncle Monk, "Mr. Endicott" - I'm working for a boss-man, Mr. Endicott / He's a mean old boss, man, Mr. Endicott / He yells at me when I'm late, he yells at me on my coffee break / Look out, Mr. Endicott, I'm gonna get you / Look out, Mr. Endicott, I'm gonna get you

Nine Inch Nails, "The Becoming" - The me that you know had some second thoughts / He's covered with scabs and he is broken and sore / The me that you know doesn't come around much / That part of me isn't here anymore

Winterpills, "Broken Arm" - I think I finally understand the way a broken arm can hate the hand / the way a farmer hates his crop, the way the lawyer hates the honest cop / The smell of chamomile beneath my sickle blade / will not comfort the cancer-stricken or provide some common shade

Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, "I Believe in Father Christmas" - They sold me a dream of Christmas, they sold me a silent night / And they told me a fairy story 'til I believed in the israelite / And I believed in Father Christmas, and I looked at the sky with excited eyes / 'Til I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn and I saw him and through his disguise

The Rubicks, "Midas" - Here it all lies piece by piece with your name on it /All that you touch, all that you hold is turning to gold / Don't try to save me (try to save me, try to save me, try to save me) / With your Midas touch

Taking a shortish RP break, to get my bearings back. Apologies to anyone this leaves hanging.

Feeling much better now. (Possibly) disregard!

He tries. God help him, he tries. What Rich told him, the way the world, a version of their world, goes to Hell in a handbasket because of this -- this TV show, and Nitro... Robbie can't let that happen.

The world, however, seems determined to thwart him. Time, and the Nexus, have gone so far to Hell that it takes him almost a day to even get back to his world.

Once he's there, he tries to contact his world's Rich first, then the rest of the Warriors when that doesn't work, but --

No one answers their phones, no one's home, can't this wait?

The best he manages to do is leave a message with Thrash's secretary (new secretary? replacement?), rambling disjointedly at the older woman for a while before she politely tells him she'll send that right along, thank you sir, and gives him such a pointed look slinking off in shame is the only thing he can do.

-----

That night, Saturday night, he crawls into bed back home, exhausted -- telling himself that he can try again tomorrow, he has time to fix this -- and wakes up three years in the future, with a bullet in his spine and six hundred and sixteen deaths on his shoulders, and his mother's screams ringing in his ears.

-----

Three years in the past, an apathetic temp leaves a note for Dwayne Taylor, telling him that Mr. Baldwin stopped by asking for him. 'Something about a reality TV show.'

Dwayne doesn't think it sounds like a half-bad idea.

Robbie follows Danny away from the questions area, neosporin and DVD tucked neatly away in his hoodie pocket. "Are we going to be walking much longer? I've got a curfew, and I'd like to kick your ass and be done with it before I have to go back to base." Banter, the promise of getting to punch something, and the promise of getting punched back. It's a neat little middle ground between 'Speedball' and 'Penance,' really, as long as he doesn't think about it too hard.