thecapitol | He is a man of action.

"What work?" Sabriel's intonation is halfway between curiosity and caution. The boy- no, young man, she decides, is another tribute. Another person dragged here and forced to fight for no reason.

She sits down across from him, curiosity all too evident in her pale face.

Jaime starts as someone actually replies to his words. He's so used to talking to himself--to Khaji--that someone else responding is a bit of a surprise. He looks up at Sabriel, tries to smile at the dark-haired young woman.

"...Dealing with this situation." That's vague enough that if she works for the Capitol, she won't be able to pin anything on him, right?

Sabriel laughed. It was small, muffled, a little hysterical, and absolutely joyless.

"Aren't we all? Although I'm not entirely sure how."

"We all cope in different ways. Kinda crazy that they expect us to fight to the death for their entertainment, huh?" Jaime scratches at his chin, sounding out this other Tribute.

"...I'm Jaime."

"That's one word for it." Sabriel had several she felt were more accurate and not many were suited for polite company.

"My name is Sabriel. In more- more pleasant circumstances I'd say it's nice to meet you, but..." Sabriel trailed off.

"Have you learned anything else about these- games?"

"Yeah, back at you, Sabriel." Sabriel. Bit of an sual name. Jaime rolled it around in his head for a moment, sounding it out, testing it.

"Not really. Just that we get thrown an arena and fight and die until there's no one left. There can only be one," he adds at the end with a sarcastic rolls of his eyes.

"I've been told that defeated tributes will be... resurrected. Not that it makes anything better, since we'll just be pulled into the arena all over again." Apparently, the Old Kingdom was not the only place where death was less than a final end to all worldly sorrows.

"That's almost worse," Jaime's voice drips with disgust. He couldn't hide his revulsion for the blood sport if he tried. He's always been a bad liar, anyway. He gives another shake of his head, working ideas, scenarios, plans around his head.

"I wonder how they get us here."

"Probably some sort of technology." Her own expression was more restrained, but Sabriel distaste was evident.

Sabriel frowned, "Unfortunately, most of my experience lies with magic, not science. I can't guess any of the specific details."

"Make sense." There's all kinds of technology where Jaime comes from. It wouldn't be a surprise to find that it was involved here, in any case.

"Magic? Now that I'm not so good with. More Traci's thing."

The bartender here served up a mean soy strawberry smoothie so Brainiac had meandered his way down for some comfort food. He looked a mess right now after the encounter with his mother. While he was relieved over knowing she was dead for sure and never coming back, and it had been gratifying bringing several others in on his secret, he'd still been beaten quite severely, both mentally and physically. There was still a welt and bruise on his face from where she'd struck him with one of her metal tentacles, the blood vessel of his eyes that had hemorrhaged from his blood pressure skyrocketing during his torture were still healing, and every muscle in his body ached from having tensed up so badly.

He was less dizzy now, at the very least, thanks to the treatments of the doctors here, but still, one didn't nearly die simply to pop up again perfectly fine.

And as much as he liked to pretend it didn't bother him, it had still been a slap to the face to hear his mother's jeering words again. Parents were supposed to love you. They were supposed to protect you.

Why had she survived the death of his timeline when people like RJ Brande, who'd been far kinder (and more parental) to him than his mother had ever been, had died in the collapse of his universe? Of all people to survive it, why her?

He was so lost in thought as he walked along with his smoothie in hand, multiple tracks of consciousness going full spin as they tried to process his feelings, that he almost sat down opposite Jaime without noticing him there.

He likely struck an odd figure to the younger hero. On the one hand, he was green and had three very familiar-looking circles on his head - ones that Jaime had likely seen on news reports about the untold destruction that Brainy's ancestor had wrought. His eyes were sinister-looking, the whites of them marred by red where tiny blood vessels were still healing.

On the other hand, he'd been feeling so lousy that he hadn't bothered getting dressed so he was wearing pajama bottoms with little Erlenmeyer flasks and fuzzy robot slippers, had a fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and was holding a smoothie with a crazy straw in it.

Totally sinister. So menacing. Very dignified.

"Greetings," he said distractedly, as he sat down.

Well, there's something (someone) refreshingly familiar. He'd thought there would be no green people here. Especially ones in science PJs and robot slippers. Jaime sizes up the new arrival for a long moment, wishing not for the first time that Khaji was still with him. His back ached again, the twinge of a healing wound sending little touches of pain down his spine. He eyes the three-circled symbol. Wasn't that... nah. Brainiac was totally an evil robot, some green kid.

"Hey," he replies. "...You look like you had a heck of a time, man."

"I found myself in an unexpected family reunion," he said vaguely, adjusting gingerly in his seat.

There was a part of him that balked at being seen like this. Partly because he just didn't like being seen vulnerable, partly because he was trying to maintain the villain persona and fuzzy robot slippers possibly detracted from that. However, there was yet another part of him that found his chemistry pajama bottoms to be very, very comfy and it was currently telling the other parts to shut up.

"You're new," he said. A statement of fact, as if he had every Tribute memorized. "Are you enjoying yourself so far?"

He added very dryly, "I'm sure you'll find it gratifying to know that even though we're forced into all the killing and senseless violence, we're allowed unlimited free beverages here."

He took a sip from his crazy straw.

Edited 2014-05-11 00:38 (UTC)

"Ah." He's not going to make a quip about it. Sounds... uncomfortable. He's well aware that not everyone has the best familial relationships and even green kids aren't exempt from that kind of thing. Jaime is quiet for a moment longer, mind still half-working through his options. Then Brainiac speaks up again and he's finally shoved completely out of his reverie.

"...Yeah. I'm new. Brand spanking new." He can't keep the dry sarcasm from his voice. He might be new, but he doesn't have to be happy about it.

"Oh yeah, I'm loving it. Already planning how I'm gonna take up organ collecting on the side." Brainy's quip about the drinks draws a snorting laugh from Jaime.

"Oh man, I better fill up on root beer floats before I go out and get myself killed."

"I'm sure it will ease the pain," said Brainy wryly. He seemed to be peering at him as if trying to figure out his deal now.

There were some in the arenas that had no powers and didn't live lives that involved anything outside the norm but it was a rare thing. Many had powers, interesting skill sets, were heroes, villains, mercenaries and everything in between. Even people like Sandy, who were completely powerless, sometimes had some strange tie that might have caught the Capitol's interest, what with being the daughter of a retired supervillain.

Jaime looked like a perfectly ordinary teenage human but Brainy wondered if that was truly the case.

"What's your name? I'm Brainiac 5."

That name catches Jaime off-guard. Brainiac. The Brainiac? He straightens in his chair, then leans forward to study Brainy with a furrowed brow. It takes a moment for him to find the right words. When he finally does speak, his words are a bit more guarded.

"Like, the guy that Superman is always having to deal with? Genius artificial intelligence or whatever?"

The slighest smile curved his lips. There it was. He was familiar with Superman. How familiar, was the question?

"So you're from a similar universe to my own, I suppose. Fascinating." It couldn't be his, because his was dead, but perhaps an alternate, like Harley Quinn. "Yes, like that Brainiac. Not that many are aware of it - or perhaps you're from a timeline where it's perhaps slightly different - but the original Brainiac was once an organic being from the planet Colu. His clone reproduced and started my family line. I was born nearly a thousand years after the original Brainiac's reign of terror, the fifth to hold the title Brainiac."

"Oh. Whoa." Time travel. Why is it always time travel? At least something about this situation is marginally familiar. Jaime rubs a hand over the back of his head.

"So you'd be from my future then, huh? You follow in your grandpa's footsteps? Like, do Superman's grandkids come around to punch you out for trying to blow up Metropolis or take over the world or something? Maybe the Green Lantern Corps, if you're up in space?"

Edited 2014-05-11 14:54 (UTC)

"I lack the twelfth level intellect of my forebears - my intelligence is heightened to nowhere near that degree - but if you're wondering if I share their same inclinations towards criminality..." He briefly widened his eyes. "The answer is yes, though I tend to avoid such wanton destruction and my team and I focus our efforts more often on work that borders on the mercenary. We tend to victimize other criminals or rob banks and corporations that are thoroughly insured and generally corrupt themselves. We find crime that victimizes the already victimized and powerless somewhat..." He searched for a word. "tasteless."

He took a sip of his smoothie, hoping that all that would maintain the illusion he wanted to maintain without scaring Jaime off. If Jaime was from a similar universe he wanted to find out more and see if perhaps he was one of its heroes from the age they were so common.

Edited (sorry being anal) 2014-05-11 20:39 (UTC)

"Right." Jaime doesn't like the sound of this guy. Bad name, bad things. At least he picks on other bad guys. Still, it's a bit awkward to sit there chatting with a supervillain from the future. Good job, Jaime. He takes a breath, then rubs his hands together briskly as he considers his next words.

"Don't suppose there's still a Blue Beetle in your time, huh?"

Awkward, but at least the very worst he was doing right now was just sitting in his jam jams drinking a smoothie.

"I'm assuming that's a superhero name and no. There hadn't been superheroes in nearly a thousand years. Not until the United Planets formed our team - the Legion. Of course, that didn't last long but that is what happens when you conscript teenage soldiers to do your political dirty work under the guise of righteousness and throw them repeatedly into every meat grinder you can."

He inhaled deeply through his nose and locked his eyes at his smoothie, as if embarrassed at his own sudden outburst of bitterness.

"My apologies. The subject of superheroes is a somewhat...touchy issue."

The villainy had to be there on top but he could layer it, make it sympathetic. Some people got a rough start. Some were good people twisted into what they were by terrible circumstance - making the wrong choices but still with the grains of good in them. Some could be villainous but not heartless - after all, throwing on spandex and robbing a bank without hurting anyway wasn't quite the same thing as dosing them with Joker toxin. And some people who acted out in greed or selfishness could even turn things around. ~~Some people people earned their guns~~.

Julian had spoken to him for so long because he'd sensed he was a sympathetic figure, more troubled than truly sinister, and now he'd found out he was even more sympathetic than he'd thought.

On the off chance that this young man was a superhero from a similar world - someone maybe even from the age of heroes when Superman and Wonder Woman and the Batman fought evil - he had to make sure he didn't just shut him out (at least long enough to figure out if he could be trusted and told the truth).

"I do admit to respecting the ones that are genuine, though, rare though they are," he admitted, his gaze softening slightly and going distant. "They were murder on our profits but it was nice to know they existed sometimes, hopelessly naive though they were."

Jaime's face twists slightly, sympathy mingled with the frown of disapproval that's been aimed at Brainy since he's declared himself a super villain. Not that he likes bad guys or anything, but he can understand bad situations, bad starts. He's run into plenty of that on his gig. Reminds him of Khaji Da, how his original purpose would have been to force Jaime to become a killer, a scourge of planets to serve the Reach. Brainy's origins seem less insidious, but still similar enough to make Jaime's heart twinge. Still, the guy seems more interested in profits than people, and that just doesn't sit well with him.

"Some of us have got to look for the little guys. The rest of the world is too busy looking out for number one, right?" Jaime replies with a shrug of his shoulders. "And some people don't take an option just because it's easy and you have the ability to do it. And some of us just want to help." He might be tacitly admitting that he flies around saving the day in his spare time, but here, does it matter? There's no secret identity to be kept up without Khaji. Still. Best to hold his cards close to his chest.

"People are more important than profits. That's something this place could stand to learn, I'm sure." His eyes bore into Brainy as he says it, almost as if daring him to say otherwise.

Brainy narrowed his eyes slightly, though it looked more like he was just figuring something out than because he was angry or had some kind of sinister motives.

"You're a superhero, aren't you. You've got the naive selfless diatribe down perfectly and the Capitol only rarely kidnaps pure civilians. Most are heroes or villains or soldiers and the like. Even the civilians usually have some unique quirk, like being the child of a supervillain, that the Capitol can give a narrative spin to."

He pointed his finger at Jaime.

"And...Blue Beetle. That wasn't the name of any hero whose legend survived to my time but I remember seeing a superhero with a beetle theme and blue color scheme to his costume during the time our team was briefly trapped in the 20th century. He was a grown man, though."

Perhaps that was this young man in adulthood? Or was he a sidekick perhaps? He knew that was a common practice at the time.

"Hey, Holmes figured it out. Deduction and all that, right?" Jaime rolls his eyes. Maybe he should have made more of an effort, but this guy is from the future. And also they're both stuck here. Without Khaji, Jaime doesn't have anything to work with.

"...That was probably the guy who was Blue Beetle before me, then." He admits, scratching under his chin with a troubled furrow of his brow.

"While there are several individuals that go by the name of Holmes here, I'm not one of them."

Interesting. So he was a legacy hero. There hadn't been superheroes other than the Uncanny Amazers for quite some time in his universe before the Legion showed up. Because of that, other than situations like Jazmin's, where she was adopting her brother's superhero name in his honor, there hadn't really been any heroes following in the legacy of other heroes.

Far from being unnerved by him or hostile, he stared at him as if he was some strange curiosity, more alien because of what he was than because of his species.

"There were heroes here before you," he said. "I went through the archives to learn about previous games and perused the network. They didn't last long."

It sounded vaguely threatening but Jaime might have picked up the warning buried in it.

"The legendary Wonder Woman." There was the briefest of pauses, as if he was actually upset. "Superboy."

Edited 2014-05-22 02:27 (UTC)

"Wait, really?" He tilted his head at that, stroking a finger along his chin for a moment as he digests the new information Brainy's just given him. This place is getting stranger. And possibly more dangerous, if that was possible. Then he starts talking about heroes. That makes Jaime sit up a bit straighter.

"Wonder Woman was here--? Superboy?" Shock. Dismay. If those two had been held here... He shook his head.

"No. No way."

"I watched the footage. They were both killed several arenas back and never revived."

He paused briefly.

"Unfortunate. The Legion knew Superboy personally. During the time he was displaced to our time, he was an absolute menace but he - he always had this delusional idea that bringing us in might help set us on a better path. He seemed to think there was good in all of us, even if he felt he had to stop us, and hoped we'd be rehabilitated."

Brainy looked at the floor, having difficulty hiding his dismay - and grief - over it. He didn't know if it was his version of Superboy, but even if it wasn't, it was a Superboy, a fellow Legionnaire, and his friend.

"He was wrong, naturally, but he truly wanted to protect people and just as much, despite all we'd done, he also wanted to try to stop us in the hopes we could be set on a path of redemption. It was never going to happen, but we couldn't help admire how genuine he was."

Edited 2014-05-28 05:58 (UTC)

Gloom was a big giveaway, here. The people of the Capitol hardly ever budged from their comfort- Hawkeye would know, shrugging his shoulders coming back to the tower, fussing over the part in his hair that had been mussed and now had to be righted. Anyone who wasn't celebrating was lost. That's how his gaze ended up landing on the boy instead of on the woman who passed offering a free drink. It was impossible for Hawkeye to even think he could spare the memory to remind himself if he had ever seen the face before, but anyone who wasn't a friend was a stranger. And possibly one of the worst things that could happen in a strange land was to find yourself surrounded by nothing but strangers. So Hawkeye thought there'd be no wrong in stepping closer.

Only Tributes ever looked so down, or so determined. And it was the switch in demeanor that made the surgeon hesitate, just long enough to get his brain in gear and furrow his brows when Jaime slapped his knee. "To work on melting the walls? You'll have to glare much longer than you just did," he offered, and it's even upbeat. Hawkeye himself seems upbeat- not quite unsettling, but more curious, or so he hopes that's how he's seen. He doesn't wear his olive drab much anymore, but the old Army issued boots stay with any outfit- today, it's some sea green eyesore. Hawkeye points at that one opposite wall and adds, "Last one took three hours." Because asking are you new seemed a little useless, and are you okay would come later.

Jaime finds his thoughts interrupted by the approach of a man dressed in a fashion that might politely be termed "fashion disaster" right down to the old army boots. He blinks at Hawkeye, digesting the words for a moment.

"Oh, yeah. I'm working on it, but my superpowers aren't working since I got here." There was more than a touch of bitterness that suggested a real loss in those words. He straightens and peers more closely at the older man, trying to discern what he could.

There was a rule book he was starting to write about his experiences in Panem so far. On the top of that rule book was the Law that said that any simple question directed at a kid will get him a headache and a complicated answer in return. Hawkeye would have been just fine with following the joke he had laid out, but there was no missing the tone of the boy's voice. It confused him. It made Hawkeye think back to many years in Crabapple Cove or Boston or Uijeongbu. It made him think of the recent hellish months in this world, where there were dragons and dwarves and prince charmings and where he had walked in on a zombie in a shower and-- "What, seriously?"

Like in the comic books some of the enlisted snagged from the trading post. It was ridiculous, so he goes on and says, "I wouldn't suggest a sledgehammer. Property damage comes out of your wallet." And actually, Hawkeye wasn't even sure if that was true. Kind of a way to say that acting out wasn't-- anyway, Hawkeye shifts his weight, loses any proper posture, casually gestures with one hand at nothing. He can stand up to scrutiny just fine, chum. The ghost of concern bleeds out a notch. "There's a training center if you wanna let out steam."

Jaime laughs. It's not a very happy laugh, mind you, but it's a laugh. One hand runs through the mop of shaggy black hair on his head and he nods at Hawkeye. "Oh yeah. Kind of a bummer, you know? You get used to showing up and saving people and then suddenly you're the one needing saving, am I right? You want to help and there's not much you can do. But they can't take this from me."

He reaches up to tap the side of his head, the boy looking deadly serious as he speaks. Hawkeye's next suggestion draws a sharp shake of his head. "I don't really do property damage unless I have to. It really ruins someone's day when you smash through their living room." His fingers knit together and he shakes his head again, a flicker of anger and resentment touching his gaze.

"No. I'm not training for their blood sport."

What- seriously? Here was the man being corrected again, again by a kid, on how much he didn't know. It takes some effort to keep his jaw from slacking or his expression from seeming too incredulous but Hawkeye has practice in bedside manners. While a chat about superpowers wasn't exactly what the practice had been intended for, he sees little harm in employing it. Blame the bad posture and semi-permanent hunch of his shoulders, and Hawkeye moves closer just to place a hand on the back of the chair near the one Jaime sits on and to shift his weight. All in all, he wasn't entirely sure if this was a joke or not. Hawkeye blamed a late night and what he could pretend was a mild hangover. "I don't know about superheroes or superpowers. As far as I know, they didn't exist in my world."

But gee, didn't he know all about wanting to help and not being able to.

But gee, if he took the boy seriously regarding the superhero stuff, wouldn't that make him dangerous- at least a little? Like Mindy. Jaime's sharp gaze does its job, though. No danger from this boy, he hopes. And it wasn't like he was suggesting the training center so another kid could learn to chuck a javelin. Far be it from him to plant the idea. Far be it from him to rejoice at the rejection of it. Hawkeye waits, and feels for a moment like he's the one being glared at.

"I'm sorry you were brought here. It's going to take a lot of getting used to so you don't get used to it," he says. The old marshal never understood that bit, but maybe this kid will. "I'm Hawkeye Pierce. I'm a doctor- a surgeon, specifically. I'm in District Four if you ever need anything later."

The response makes Jaime's eyebrows shoot up. He'd thought everyone was from his world. Or a timeline similar to it, but this is the first time he's heard of a world without superheroes. Interesting. He leans back in his seat, looking back up at Hawkeye with a silent, probing gaze. What was this guy's deal? Where did he come from? What was it like there? It's becoming obvious to him that Hawkeye isn't a native. He's too... restrained. Jaime exhales, eyes closing for a moment before he looks back up at the older man. He doesn't like this place, but this guy seems alright.

"...You understand what I'm talking about then." Not that he likes to compare himself to doctors, but there's a touch of commiseration, sympathy. Solidarity.

"You spend all this time and effort to save people and sometimes you can't and there's nothing you can do, but you keep telling yourself you should have been able to do something, right? That's me right now. I'm here and I can't help anyone. Not the way I'm used to." He sighs, then finally responds to the introduction properly.

"I'm Jaime. Jaime Reyes. District Eight."

Sure, sure, introductions usually started things off instead of just being tacked on at some random lull but Hawkeye thinks they're faring just fine. The more he doesn't think about the men in tights from the comic books coming alive, the better he feels about talking to one. Radar would be grinning ear to ear. And why lie- Hawkeye would be drilling the guy with questions if only he could feel something more than a hollow ache in his gut. Another kid. Another kid. Hero or not, what the hell. He ducks his head in one heavy nod, like he would if he was agreeing with some nagging spiel he had already heard countless times before. He clasps his hands in emphasis. "Absolutely."

It wasn't even limited to the Capitol and their games. "There is absolutely nothing you can do to help yourself, or help anybody else, for that matter," Hawkeye says but there's a lilt in his voice and clipped words, and anyone who knows him could see the curious shine in his eyes. Because he just wasn't the kind of guy to ever say that and mean it. "That's what a lot of people here think, and it's not just the ones in power," he explains. "It's very frustrating. A lot of this is. All of this is. You're taking the news better than I would expect-" assuming, of course, because they've talked but they haven't exactly gotten to the point- "You're new here, aren't you?"

Jaime's gut twists as Hawkeye says that there's nothing he can do to help himself. Or anyone else. The very idea rebels against everything Jaime believes about himself--knows about himself. He takes a breath, getting ready to respond... and then Hawkeye qualifies. Jaime can't stop the spread of a small, barely there smile. Maybe he and this guy have more in common than he even thought. He gives a nod of his head, gaze dropping for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm new. Just got here, actually."

Hawkeye hadn't been counting on it, but the smile sparks the idea in him that maybe he hadn't utterly screwed up after all. It drags a much more lively, much more gentle one out of him in turn. It stays put this time, even after the admittance of being fresh in. If Hawkeye thought about it, Jaime looked like he was the age of some of the enlisted men he'd see- meaning, this sort of meet and greet was nothing out of the norm. Here's a kid pulled far from home for-- reasons. And the kid thinks he can help, only Jaime didn't tote a rifle or a radio on his back.

Hawkeye took the opportunity to finally make his way around the chair he'd been leaning against to sit down in it. His posture wasn't any better and he was sure it had been a while since he felt so much like an old coot. "Have you been outside of this center yet?"

"I pretty much just got here," Jaime admitted with a roll of his shoulder, glancing across the common area again with a critical eye. Nothing here could really be trusted, he was sure. And he wouldn't be surprised if they were being recorded right this moment.

"Like, this morning. I haven't really gotten the urge to take a walk yet, if you know what I mean." He shrugs, a thin smile touching his lips.

"I mean, the place is just so hospitable, am I right?"

Penny was aware of the boy. She'd gotten a visual of him when he was first taken from his timeline, although she hadn't been there in person. Generally, no one underwent any scientific undertaking without at least giving her a heads up.

She was more interested in his toy. She had it back at Peacekeeper Headquarters now, in a room only people with her clearance could access. She hasn't done much with it yet, instead only staring and watching, assessing through the glass and frost a creature with eyes as dead as her own. Devising an intricate and laborious plan to dissect it, taking her time, savoring her power over the alien. Drinking in her ability to conquer the unknown with curiosity and brilliance.

Still, the boy isn't entirely boring to her. At the very least, she'll have a chance to observe what it's done to him. And, if she's being honest with herself - and Penny rarely it - to gloat.

She walks across the commons as if she expects to step onto a palanquin any moment. Her dress drags across the carpet like a net through water.

"You're new, aren't you?"

The approach of the garishly dressed woman doesn't go unnoticed. She has to be a native. No one else (in Jaime's mind) would dress that way. He straightens in his seat a bit, looking back at her with barely concealed suspicion.

"Yeah, just got in off the Tribute Train this morning. It's been quite the experience." He keeps his voice polite, even. No need to be rude, though his choice of words might leave a little to be desired.

"How are you liking the city so far?"

Penny doesn't seem to be asking because she cares but because, like a cobra, she is sussing out a place to strike. There's something sinister about her that just rolls off her in waves, something noxious about her high-pitched voice.

"It's certainly impressive," Jaime replies with a cool look back at her. He doesn't like her, she's off somehow. Maybe the way she speaks. Maybe just her whole attitude, the same one that rolls off all the natives he's met so far in waves.

"Never seen anything quite like it."

"Are you from a small town? Somewhere a little less extravagant?"

And she reaches in to violate his personal space, to touch his face.

"Less extravagant would probably be the best word for it," Jaime replies laconically. It's a bit of an understatement. The capitol has no (visible) bad neighborhoods, it's all glitter and show and it makes him feel a bit sick in the pit of his stomach. As she reaches towards him her jerks back, a wave of revulsion joining the already-present nausea.

"What--?! Hey!"

Penny pushes through his recoil as if to make the point she can touch him. Suddenly she's leaning in quite close.

"You're a Tribute now," she hisses. "And unless you want me to illustrate exactly how powerless you are, you'll become accustomed to the invasion of personal space. This is a lesson for your safety."

Jaime's teeth grit, anger, revulsion, disgust, fear--all of it is there. But he pushes it back, makes himself stay calm. What would Ted Kord do? He takes a breath, forces himself to calm a little. He even manages a weak smile.

"Right. Tribute. Still getting used to that."

"Get used to it faster."

She reaches over and runs her hand over his shoulder, then his back, where the scarab was. "We did a good job stitching you up."

Jaime blanches a little at her words, his blood freezing for a moment. She knew. She knew that Khaji had been taken.

"Where's Khaji?" His voice is even, mostly. A slight pitch just at the end as he fights to keep anger and panic out of his voice.

"That's for me to know." She grins as she pulls her hand away. There's no and for you to find out.

She turns to leave.

He is a man of action.

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Sorry this took so long

don't worry about it!

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/gently starts the ball rolling on this plot

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