donkeyballs | Reverie: IC Inbox

Amen to that.

[ Apollo takes a drink, squinting against the harsh burn of it. ]

You know another thing that's awful about this place? The kids. [ Hurriedly: ] Not that I don't like kids! But who the hell kidnaps a bunch of teenagers and brings them to a place like this? Adults are one thing, but bringing children...

[ He trails off, shaking his head. ]

That's messed up.

[ He took his drink, and then lingered on it while Apollo spoke, hiding the way his expression darkened by lingering with it at his lips. Eventually, though, he lowered it. ]

I know what you mean.

But never seems to stop anyone from involvin' them, long as they ain't kids from their planet.

Yeah...

[ With one hand wrapped firmly around his glass he leans on the bar and worries at his hair with the other, threading long strands through his fingers as he thinks. ]

And there's the one teenager - Dirk - he hasn't even got a world left to go back to. So while we're all desperately trying to get back to our homes, he hasn't got one. He's got nothing. Not even a family...

What?

[ That gets him to look up sharply, glass tapping the counter a little too hard. It's a single word, but there is a lot conveyed in that word. Surprise, horror, and 'where is this kid, I'm going to adopt him right now.]

Yeah. [ Apollo nods, grimly. His reaction had been exactly the same. ] Some kind of apocalypse happened, I don't know. I think everyone died except him and a few other people. It sounded bad.

But I offered him a world to call home if he wants it. His friends, too. It's not perfect but at least it's something.

[ He deflates a little, but nods, slowly. ]

Right. Yeah. I'd offer mine, but...

[ He frowned down at his glass.]

Bobbie told me they finally started nukin' each other. Earth and Mars. 20 million dead already. Hell if I know if there'll even be planets to go home to. And space ain't a place for a kid.

[ It takes him a moment to put two and two together - Bobbie, that must be her name. The one with the power armour. ]

Shit, really? What's the cause of it all?

Same damn shit.

The experiment I told you 'bout? It wasn't the last one. They made these.. Hybrids, is what we call 'em. Took kids and--

[ His fist tightens on his glass, chest clenching sharply. Nope. Can't think about that. Not right now. Not while Mei is still out there. ]

Bobbie was on Ganymede, where they let one of those things go. Just t' see how many marines it could rip through. Earth and Mars started shootin' each other in orbit. They managed to stop fightin - the Jupiter system was on Martian lock down, last I remember - but apparently it got worse.

[ Experiments on children. It seems the multiverse is full of sick fucks in every world. With a flush of impotent anger Apollo turns his furrowed gaze on his own glass, chewing back an expletive-riddled reaction with Herculean effort.

This is exactly why people like Apollo exist, he knows it well. People like him exist to take out the bastards responsible for pulling horrific acts - science experiments or mindless wars or pointless nuclear bombing - against innocent people. Twenty million is too, too much. ]

In my world, the President of the United States nearly started an intergalactic war. [ He says evenly, eventually. ] He killed millions of innocent aliens, all because he wanted to play with a new scientific toy that he thought he understood...

[ Apollo sounds cool and factual, a stark contrast to the simmering anger beneath his skin. ]

I don't mind admitting that we killed him. He had to be removed. The galaxy was better off without him.

[ Sometimes people in charge have got to be killed for the good of the normal people, y'know? ]

Edited (WHOOPS) 2018-06-03 13:59 (UTC)

[ He notes the 'aliens' but he doesn't comment on it. Not now. Question for later. He knows if he questioned it now, it might come off as him caring less, if they weren't human.

But life has been pretty damn strange, here, and that isn't an impression he wants to leave. So he focuses on the important parts. ]

... Can't say I blame you. [ Low. Tight. ] Or that I wouldn't do the same, if I had Errinwright in my sites. ... But I ain't sure it would matter. Kill one of em, there's eighty more waitin' to replace 'em and take up the cause.

[ It's times like these that Apollo is thankful that he's the kind of guy who can kill eighty more. But he keeps that particular blood-thirsty fact to himself as he takes another meditative sip of terrible, off-brand space alcohol. ]

Maybe you will get to do the same...

[ He sounds reflective, words full of a blood-thirsty kind of hopeful optimism. ]

When we get the hell off this station.

[ Which they will. They have to. ]

[ For his crew, he's been talking big, about leaving. About what to do when they get off, how to get home -

But that's because he's responsible, in a way, for them. Naomi might be defacto captain, but he's the pilot. He's the one that's supposed to get them where they need to go. And in this case, that means home.

He's not responsible for Apollo.

So he doesn't hide the way his face falls. ]

... I don't even see a way for any of 'em to still be alive, when we get off this station. My best guess puts us thousands of light years out - and other than my crew, no one here's even heard of Mars bein' colonized. Who knows if it even exists, in this universe. Or which universe we're in. If we could even get home from here in the first place.

[ He can sense the change in Alex, the way his whole countenance changes as he speaks. Setting his glass aside Apollo reaches with a warm hand to sympathetically grip his shoulder. ]

We can. We will. [ His words are low and kind, quietly reassuring (or so Apollo hopes). ] And no, you're right, this probably isn't either of our universes. But that won't stop us...

[ Apollo's the kind of man who will let very little stop him, no matter what universe he's in. He beams reassuringly at Alex, squeezing his shoulder beneath his hand as if it was possible to impart just a little of his bloody-minded optimism in to the other man. ]

I don't care if this is a prison, or a science experiment, or whatever the fuck it is. Whoever or whatever brought us here, we'll make them send us back again. You, Amos, your crew -- we'll get you home. We'll all go home.

[ He drags in a deep breath and then lets it out again, nodding. He was usually better at keeping his spirits up, but he also usually had something to god damn fly.

Still. He appreciated it, and when he turned his head to look at Apollo, his expression was full of gratitude. ]

Yeah. We'll figure it out. Just feels like a hell of a lot, sometimes, you know?

Yeah. I know.

[ His hand on Alex's shoulder squeezes again, briefly, before dropping away. Apollo's own form of dealing with the challenges of being here would usually involve punching, or perhaps setting something on fire. It's not so much an option out here, though. ]

Did you ever get revenge? For what happened to the people they experimented on? The, uh -- belties, did you say?

Belters. [ The correction was immediate, but then Alex just shook his head, slowly. ]

Miller shot the lead scientist, but. Hell, we've only got the vaguest idea of who's even involved.

[ He shifted uncomfortably. ] We, uh. We just found out that Mars is involved, now. Not on Eros, thank fucking christ. But on Ganymede. Started a god damn war. So I ain't sure it's all that much better.

[ It was also incredibly painful to admit. ]

Edited 2018-06-12 22:27 (UTC)

Miller. [ He snaps his fingers after a moment of thought. ] Hat guy?

[ Apollo doesn't know him, but he's seen him around. He looks almost impressed by that. ]

Good for him. I guess that's a start.

[ Better than no revenge at all, at least. ]

Yeah, that's him.

[ It was a little weird to go from seeing huge graffiti murals of him to hearing him being called "hat guy". ]

... Yeah. The Cap wasn't too pleased about it, when it happened. Wanted to take the guy in for questioning, a trial. But Miller, uh - didn't think he was worth givin' any kind of leeway, I don't think. Had pretty mixed feelin's about it, at the time. But now?

... I don't know. Can't say I wouldn't have done the same.

[ Sometimes bad people need to just disappear. Apollo isn't one of those superheroes who preserves the status quo; if there is an asshole who needs to be removed, they get removed. What Alex is describing is him - on a good day. ]

Maybe you would have done the same. Maybe it's best that someone else was there to do it for you.

[ And Apollo means that. Not everyone should be the person who does the shitty - if brutally correct - thing.

But then he quirks a smile, realising belatedly what Alex had said. ]

Also, hey - what? Captain? I mean, you never said as much, sure, but I always thought you were the captain...

Yeah. Ain't gonna lie, I'm pretty damn glad I didn't have to make that decision.

[ At the question, he looks genuinely surprised. ]

Me? Captain? Good gracious no, partner, I'm the pilot. I fly, and I shoot, and the last thing in the world I wanna be doin' is callin' the shots.

[ Not that he wouldn't argue a bad order, though. He has, and he will, fight Holden on a lot of things, if he thinks he's making a bad call. But he's only overtly refused an order once. ]

Holden's our Cap. James Holden. But he ain't - he ain't woke up yet. Haven't been able to find 'im.

He might turn up yet. We seem to be getting all sorts of people on here...

[ He reaches out for the bottle, pouring them both another healthy dose of space alcohol. Joking and drinking is far better than talking about hideous experiments and space molecules. ]

Who knows who else is on the invite list?

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