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

[vidal]

"Fancy," Reyes says with a small smile. He's growing more and more accustomed to meeting formerly-exceptional people in this village; everyone seems to come from pretty interesting worlds, but the stories of their old capabilities are. Well. Something else.

"People have cross-referenced others' experiences. What people have found out about the powers has been listed in the network files-- look for an entry posted by a Frank Castle. Unfortunately, we're fairly on our own out here. No handy welcome brochure handed to you upon arrival."

He throws another butterknife, watches it hit the tree with the pointy-end, but not hard enough to embed in the target. His mouth twists. "Any tips?"

[excessed]

Diego laughs at that, though it isn't funny in the least. "I think I would be more worried if there was a brochure. Do you have any idea how long people have been here? I mean, you're talking cataloging these abilities and all, so there's been time for this?" That thought is quite a bit less reassuring in Diego's mind. One is an outlier. A month is a concept. Years means who knows how bad this can get for him and his world. "Be born with a super power and become a childhood super hero?" He smirks though as he shrugs. "I've got someone making me better knives, so that will help. A lot. I tried snagging sharper knives, but I got shit for that so working with these for now."

[vidal]

"I know someone who's been here for two years," Reyes answers; trying to sound nonchalant about it, and failing a little. Finnick and Annie had been here that long, had had that long to settle in and carve out a new life for themselves. It's a horrifying amount of time for Reyes, and he watches the handsome (apparently former childhood superhero??) man's expression carefully, gauging to see how he reacts to it too.

"If someone gave you shit for trying to arm yourself," he adds, an eyebrow arched and clearly skeptical, "I'm thinking you should just pickpocket yourself some sharper knives anyway. Everyone deserves to arm themselves."

Reyes had been relatively lucky, with one paranoid mountain-man handing him a pretty decent hunting knife. Too bad it was back at the house, or he could've tried practicing with it.

[excessed]

That amount of time causes him to pause, considering that. Looking away, wishing he'd paid any more attention to the talk of the things that Five does and how he does them. "Well shit. And all that time they've been just randomly bringing people here? I was kind of hoping this was my brother's screw up but starting to sound like shit that weird ass time bosses or whatever would pull. I would think maybe it's where they dump those that fuck with their plans to destroy whatever they want, but that would mean my family should show up eventually."

Half talking to himself, throwing out thoughts and ideas of just what all of this might be.

"Yeah, I will eventually. I just left the kitchen a bit ago and figure she's still probably there being growly at me trying," he admits, figuring he'll give it some time.

[vidal]

It's clear that the other man is mostly thinking out loud, just parsing his thoughts while they talk, but his words are strange enough to make Reyes arch an eyebrow, blink in blatant curiosity. "Weird-ass time bosses? I'm sorry, I have to know more."

They'd started to bend time back home, using biotics -- typically slowing it down in pockets, small isolated fields -- but controlling it outright was still out of their hands. It draws his attention, makes him wonder. Stories of advanced technology from the other villagers always do.

"And I suppose I should mention-- my name is Reyes, by the by."

[excessed]

Diego pauses, looking at the other man and then he chuckles. "I only learned all this in the last few days, but apparently there's a Time Commission that oversees events to ensure what they want to happen, does. Such as a president being assassinated during a parade, or the apocalypse actually happening," he admits, shaking his head. JFK is still more disturbing to him than the world ending.

He chuckles at that. "Sorry. I'm used to not introducing myself. Child stars I guess never get to live down their reputation. I'm Diego."

[vidal]

"Child star superhero, Time Commissions, apocalypses." It's a testament to Reyes' mastery over his expression that he doesn't just drop a jaw and stare goggle-eyed at Diego. But he's sending the other man a skeptical look now, in particular--

"I don't say this often around here, but: it sounds a bit like you're bullshitting me."

[excessed]

He sobers a bit at that, staring at Reyes for a long moment, considering how to respond to that.

"Well, I wish I was," he admits, shrugging. "And I probably should be playing things closer to my vest and being all: Hi, I'm Diego, I'm a would be cop who works freelance now, but the truth is? I'm just kind of a hundred and ten percent done with everything, this place being the icing on the cake."

[vidal]

That exhaustion, more than anything else, is what makes Reyes reconsider. Because that's the world-weary cynicism of someone who actually has lived through that much inexplicable bullshit, and so he hums thoughtfully in the back of his throat. Sizing Diego up.

"Hm. Alright. I-- think I believe you, then. So hello, I'm Reyes, I'm a smuggler from a poisonous planet in the Andromeda galaxy." A flash of a smile; a slight risk in even admitting that much to former law enforcement, but. They're in a village on the ass-end of nowhere in an antiquated village. So who gives a damn anymore if a once-thief is friendly to a would-be cop?

"You sound like you've some wild stories to tell."

[excessed]

"Wait, wait wait." He's grinning though, but he needs to back this story up a bit. "So... you're an alien?" Hey, he has to assume that. Technically to what he knows, he would be. "I guess that would be kind of a ways out of my jurisdiction then," he teases. "If I even was doing all the superhero thing anymore."

Even with the old man's super hero shit, he can't imagine he'd expect it to extend that far. God, he hopes not. Again, for so many reason, maybe it's a good thing that Reginald is dead. Even if he took a lot of chances in offing himself.

That gets a laugh, giving him a nod. "Up to and including how I think I ended up here. You haven't seen anyone wandering around with a black case in hand, have you?"

[vidal]

“Earth-born, but I suppose technically you could call me an alien if you wanted. I’ve spent more of my life in space than in Mexico, by now.” He’s aware how bizarre that bit sounds to people not from spacefaring civilisations, which is precisely why he enjoys leaning into it. Taking the piss, a little.

Then, at the other question: “No-oo,” Reyes says slowly, drawling out the vowel thoughtfully. “We all had backpacks when we arrived here, and there are these small unmarked boxes that appear sometimes, with gifts inside. But a black case? Unfortunately not. What’s your theory?”

Because he’s always interested in comparing notes, and hearing others’ thoughts on what the hell is going on around here.

[excessed]

"Fair enough then," he says, shrugging. "I have super powers in a world where only forty-three people have them and none of us were technically gestated, just birthed so..." So for all he knows they're fairy folk. Or aliens. Who knows. "So basically what? You're the guy from that space movie?" He remembers Klaus watching it at some point when they were younger.

"In our world... Well maybe it's other worlds too, but I don't know anyone else but us that've dealt with it but there's a Time Commission. They set up major historical events, and they ensure that things happen. Up to and including the end of the world. Their agents travel using black cases." All but one agent, at least. "This place? Feels like some kind of shit they would do. Especially more and more learning how many here aren't your straight, average human."