When I was stranded at the crossroads it was dismal and grey

[excessed]

WHO: Diego Hargreeves, No 00.02
WHERE: The fountain, around the village, the inn
WHEN: First days of March
OPEN TO: All, only one for the fountain please
WARNINGS: Will keep spoilers to a minimum, try and avoid details unless told they're okay, otherwise language, will update

---

Fountain, Arrival late in the evening

This was it. There was only one answer, one chance, and if it failed then they weren't any worse off than they already were. They were together though in ways they hadn't been for longer than Diego wants to think about. Just like he doesn't want to think about those lost. All they can think about is the chance they have now.

Panic and pain give way to peace, to knowing that all they've done, all Diego has done in training, has been meant for this.

And then he's inhaling water.

Years of training kick in and he scissor kicks his way to the surface, gasping for air as his lungs burn and the world comes into blurry twilight color as he blinks away the water. Bitter cold air bites into his skin, stealing the precious breathes he's taken with the the frigidness of the air. Managing to catch the edge of the fountain, Diego gives one last kick, pulling himself up and out and flopping onto the ground beside the fountain with wet thwock.

Laying there panting, ignoring the pressure of something under him in the form of of a backpack and not yet aware of his missing fear and clothes. Staring up at a sky slowly turning from purple to dark navy, a fine shiver beginning to set in as the cold not only settles over him but seeps in from beneath.

"F..." He tries to start and find the words failing. The worst hasn't happened, but this isn't what it is supposed to be. Closing his eyes, Diego forces himself to picture the word. Four letters. A single word. A sibling's name. "Five," he manages with the barest hint of a tremor. "What the hell have you done?"

The Inn

The inn seems to be the hub of the town, such as it is, and Diego spends a lot of time in that area with a hope of finding his missing family members. As the days go on, he knows he'll have to face that they've all been scattered to the four corners of the universe, but he's not willing to give up hope.

Not that he's happy in those damn red scrubs. How the hell is a person meant to do anything circumspect dressed like an escapee from a horror movie asylum? Most of the time he has the heavy black coat on, trying to cover up the fact that he's new enough not to have somehow come across a wardrobe as so many in this place seem to have managed.

Most days he can be found sitting in the back of the room, chair turned with his back to the wall, eating or reading whatever he might have found, his gaze moving too much to really absorb any of it. Much too suspicious to do more than watch and wait more often than not.

Around the village

During the daylight hours Diego is often pacing the area of the village, slowly exploring everything within "city limits" and then working his way outwards as the days go on. Figuring that most have asked for answers, and that he isn't the first one here, but he's looking for things in particular. His father's writings, signs of his siblings, a freaking briefcase that he's heard about that could mean getting the hell out of here.

Most of it leads to frustration as little shows up to help, and there's no sign of those he's looking for. It isn't until several days into things that he figures he should at least set up and get in some practice. Snagging some butter knives and a pillow from an empty house, he heads to a tree by the edge of the forest to practice.

And finds something is definitely wrong.

Sure he's hitting the targets because twenty-five years of practice means that he knows what he's doing, but the aim is just a little off. It's not as easy as it's been his entire life. Gathering them up time and again, throwing them hard and with all he's got, snarling as they don't go just as he wants them to. And instead of looking for the reason, he keeps practicing, putting small cuts in the pillowcase as he tries desperately to click with the very skills he was born with and now seems to be missing.

Comments

[clouded_heart]

"There's a pot constantly on the simmer, basically. People contribute whatever food they can to it. I work at the butchers, so we contribute whatever meat people bring in that isn't going into smoking, drying or anything else." He puts it down and slides it closer.

"And the clothes... yes, both of those, plus some people make clothes when we have the resources. Sometimes boxes appear with stuff. Sometimes people had things and then they vanished. It's a bit of a mixed bag. I'm Foggy." He offers out a hand to shake.

[excessed]

"There's a butcher shop here, but apparently most of the place is without electricity and those experimenting on us before we wake up here are not known. Okay then." He shakes his head, not even sure what to think about any of this. "How long have you been here and how did you end up here, Foggy?" Arching a brow as he asks. "And I don't mean drowning in the fountain. What transported you here?" He holds out his hand though between bites. "I'm Diego." He says it hesitantly, not sure if anyone here might know who he is and not wanting to deal with that."

[clouded_heart]

"Well, this is an old village. A ghost town. One of the places was an old butchers' shop, so that's where we set up for the butchering."

Foggy took a seat opposite, not blocking sight lines. "I went to bed. I woke up coming up the fountain. That was it. I have no idea beyond that. And it's good to meet you Diego. Ex-military? Vigilante?"

[excessed]

His head cants back, eyes darting as he considers the way everything looks. "Huh, that's why it felt so familiar. One of those reproduction towns, right?" He nods, because that makes sense in a lot of ways. Not that it makes sense in any other way. A brow arches at that. "You meet a lot of vigilantes?" It's not most people's first guess, after all.

[clouded_heart]

"Maybe? No one really knows. Maybe there was a group before us. Maybe they just found this place and used it." He shrugs.

Second guess, thank you. Ex-military was first. "I represent a few vigilantes, I've worked with others, and I also work with super powered individuals when they get into legal binds. It's become my field, I guess. And with the twitchiness, the way you position yourself, the scars... seemed like a solid guess."

[excessed]

"Maybe they're fucking with us and think this is fun and entertaining to see how bad things are for us," he says, shrugging, considering that. "And where we'll take things." He isn't sure why he thinks that, but then he's used to people fucking with others. Of course, he knows nothing of this place, especially after where he is meant to be. "You have lawyers that represent vigilantes? Seriously?" He chuckles at that, sitting back and considering this guy. "And the super powered. Huh. The ones I knew only ever had the estate lawyer, and one of them had a criminal lawyer on retainer, but not because of the super thing." Because as a vigilante he got picked up a lot. "Well, Klaus had a public defender, but that's it."

[clouded_heart]

"Quite probably," Foggy agrees, amicable as ever about it. "And... yes, frankly. We have super heroes. We have street level super heroes. I worked with someone they call Daredevil, which is a step up from what they originally called him, The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He had information and sources and needed someone he trusted to get it into the system and out in public. He'd come to me and my partner with information he had picked up. After that... I ended up defending a vigilante at a mass murder trial. And then word got around and I started acquiring clients."

More or less the truth.

[excessed]

Diego snorts, rolling his eyes though there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Try being the Kraken since the time you were old enough to show up in public in a diamond mask and school uniform," he says, one hand rubbing the other forearm where the tattoo was. When you weren't old enough to legally get the ink either. "But least I wasn't Space Boy," he says, smirking rather cruelly. "We were public, and people seemed to be okay with the things we did," he admits. "Hell, when I started working on my own, a lot of it was overlooked because of who I was. Who we had been," he says, considering this guy curiously. He gets it, more than most could he suspects. "I had a cop or two that I took things to, and some of them knew I was listening to the radio and sometimes put more through than maybe they should have, for me." So he knows how that goes.

[clouded_heart]

"... why 'the Kraken'? Did you used to have tentacles? Could you breathe underwater? I know you lose all... non-average human abilities when you get here, but 'Kraken' is a really evocative name. Also, that is horrifying and whoever put children out as superheroes in public deserves the full weight of the law for child abuse and endangerment."

That is as bad as Stick. And Foggy really, really hates Stick.

[excessed]

"Tentacles were my brother," he says, rolling his head on his neck and not making eye contact when talking about Ben. "The breathing was part of it though," he admits. "The rest had nothing to do with the name. I had an uncanny accuracy when throwing things." Which doesn't sound like much until you put a knife through summons temple from two rooms away. "Yeah well, he's dead now," he says, shrugging as if it's nothing. Hell, even if he killed himself to bring them together, he still can't forgive most of it, and doesn't plan on it any time soon. Or ever. "Be glad you didn't see it then. We were on the cover of magazines, they made action figures and comics books of us. Even collector lunch boxes."

[clouded_heart]

"That's either super disturbing, or a career in hentai waiting to happen, which, now I say it, is also creepy. So never mind. And how uncanny is uncanny? Are we talking like, blindfolded facing the wrong way? Break the laws of physics?"

He recognises the deflection. "Sounds like the Avengers back home, but they're adults. That really sucks that he put you through all that."

[excessed]

"Yeah well... He's dead now and has been for a while. So let that be as creepy as you want." That he's also a ghost that just helped save their lives is maybe something else entirely. "We're talking break the laws of physics. Before this damned place and the Hell it is? I never missed and hit exactly what and where I was aiming."

"Eh it's over. Most of us turned out... entirely fucked up and dysfunctional," he says with a laugh. "We were actually trying to fix that, but then I ended up here so..." So now he has no idea what's going on.

[clouded_heart]

"I'm sorry, that's rough. I can't imagine losing my brother." Something happening to Theo was like a nightmare. Something happening to Matt had been a nightmare (and continued to be).

"Yeah, ending up here sort of hiccups a lot of life plans." Certainly did his own.

[excessed]

"I lost two of them. Just recently found out not nearly as lost as I thought," he says with a laugh that was nothing but bitter. It still had been long and painful, and harder than he could imagine.

"Without fixing this, getting things back where they should be, being here could mean the end of a lot of things." Like the world, but damn there's not much he can do.

"How long you been here?"

[clouded_heart]

"Fuck," Foggy breathes out. "That's... horrendous. I'm so sorry."

He can't imagine. Doesn't want to.

"Um... since early December, so, three months? Ish."

[excessed]

"Yeah it all sucks pretty much." Especially the parts where any chance they have for family is pretty much gone, and even if they save the world, he has to face maybe they can't save Vanya and... Yeah, it was just all shit.

He nods at that though. "Any idea how long most have been here? Or the longest anyone has been here?" He pauses before considering Foggy. "There a way to know who all is here or has been here besides the malfunctioning Fitbit?" He holds up his hand where the band is.

[clouded_heart]

"Um... two years, at least. Karen's been here two years, but I'm not sure about long. I think, don't hold me to this, but I think one of the first people was Mark, Mark Watney." He got the feeling Mark had been there a long time.

"There are records, Karen keeps them. You want to talk to Karen, basically."

[excessed]

"Two years," he repeats, marveling at that answer, not sure what to think of that answer. He had hoped months, but that says there's a chance this has been going on a lot longer than Five trying to return them to their past.

"Okay. I can find a Karen," he says with a nod. "I need to know if my siblings are here too, or if my brother has been here before."

[clouded_heart]

"Yeah. I think. Might be more. Might be a bit less. Karen Page. She's tall, pretty, long blonde hair, light freckles." Foggy still adores Karen, nothing's going to change that.

"If anyone can help, it's probably her."

[excessed]

He focuses, making mental notes of that and knowing he can find her and see what he can find out. "I will check into finding her then," he says with a nod, toying with a butter knife on the table in front of him.

"So who is enforcing laws around here? Making sure everyone is safe?"

[clouded_heart]

"There are no laws. There's also no crime. Everyone is way too busy surviving, given that sometimes people vanish and reappear up the mountain, or random sickness spreads through the place, and there's no supplies but what we manage to grow and make, except when randomly, weird boxes of stuff appears." He shrugs. "So, no crime."

[excessed]

"How the hell is that even possible? Please. War torn countries prove that to survivor, people will steal and kill. That doesn't stop crime," he says, nose wrinkling. "Likelihood is they're drugging the water or such. A cocktail like they use in facilities to keep the population docile."

[clouded_heart]

"People kill and steal because there are things they want or need that they can't get. We have a population of like... fifty people. Most people know each other. No one goes without food or clothes or somewhere to sleep. And we don't have any obvious psychopaths." Foggy shrugs. "Crime is usually born of out unfulfilled wants and needs. Crime isn't going to get you anything here, except maybe exiled."

[excessed]

"That's not the only reason people kill," he points out. Steal he might buy, but he's seen too many who kill from the enjoyment of it that he's not sure he can accept no one here is that kind of a nutjob.

"Obvious. Keyword there." He pauses, shaking his head. "Especially if there's something they need they don't get here that isn't the obvious." Like a medication that has been drugging you out of your mind your entire life. Fuck all they needed was Vanya there. Could disprove so much.

"Not always though, and I can't buy this place is all sunshine and fucking lollipops all the time. I hope you're right but I'm not one to accept that. Especially not now."

Not when this just feels like so much kind of crazy Commission bullshit.

"You speak as if everyone is sane. You can't assume that. Well, I mean, go for it but I'm not accepting that."

[clouded_heart]

"No. no, no. I did not say it was all sunshine and lollipops. People fight and argue and bicker and ignore each other. It just doesn't reach the level that medical intervention is needed. And I doubt anyone here is sane. It's just none of the insanity has been violence aimed at other members of the village. And I say obvious, because I've worked with a lot of psychopaths, I'm a lawyer, of course I have, but a lot of them aren't violent necessarily. Cruel, not violent."

He waves his hands. "Look, be paranoid as you want, lots of people here are. But there's not been any attacks or thefts while I've been here."