Luis Serra Navarro (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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dappered2016-05-17 10:48 pm
restraints) wrote in dappered2016-05-17 10:48 pm
(no subject)
Vere Royal Media (VRM)
- owned by CEO Regis Royal aka The Regent.
- former Hero: Auguste Royal aka Sunburst. Died in the line of duty. Laurent's older brother.
- Hero: Laurent Royal aka Royal (fan nicknamed the Ice Prince or the Sapphire Rose), with powerful ice abilities. Insanely popular despite his rudeness during interviews and refusal to wear body-baring costumes, contradictorily rumored to be a dominatrix type and also a virgin. He refuses to comment on personal matters/gossip to the point where it’s become his trademark.
- Hero: Damen Kielon aka Gladiator, fire abilities including flight and manipulation of lava/magma. Fireproof but unstable due to his temper and now required by law to wear a power limiter collar at all times.
- Hero department managed by C. Guion
Vere shell company Heroes (owned by or affiliated with VRM employees but not directly sponsored):
- Talik aka Freestyle, mixed martial artist preferring to fight barehanded. Ability to copy fighting techniques.
- Junior Hero: Nicaise aka Pearl, illusion abilities using gemstones.
- Junior Hero: Ancel aka Firedancer, can manipulate but not create fire. Not fireproof.
- Junior Hero: Aimeric aka Siren, sound manipulation and (secretly) hypnotic Charm abilities
- Lazar aka Lancer, exceptional hand-eye coordination and accuracy ala hawkeye or gambit
- Jord aka Captain, idfk MAYBE HE’S A REGULAR GUY
Akielos Industries (now Kastor Industries)
- Formerly owned by IDK SOME GUY, now owned by Kastor
- Former Hero: Damen Kielon aka Fire Prince Damianos, fire abilities. His contract with Akielos allowed him to escape the government evaluations, something used against him when Akielos was bought out and his contract rewritten.
- Junior Hero: Pallas, nobody knows his real name oops, ability to turn his skin to stone/mineral like marble or diamond. Super popular due to prettiness and his tendency to wear togas in public. A newcomer on the scene designed to take attention off the corporate buy-out.
Delpha Ltd
- Hero: Nik aka Kyros, barrier/shield abilities, one of Damen’s longtime friends in the business.
- Hero: Makedon aka Commander, supersoldier, Roman motif. Kind of a dick.
Vask Imperial
- owned by The Empress
- Heroes: Halvik and Kashel aka Hunter and Rider. Tribal themed duo, enhanced strength and reflexes, tracking, transforming mecha horses.
Patras Inc
- owned by Torgeir, aka The King
- Hero: Torveld aka Quake, self-managed hero and brother to the owner, earth abilities. Interested in expanding their hero department.
Criminals or whatever:
- Govart the Mercenary
ARLES CITY - a glittering, multi-level city-state of wealth and excess towering over the ghettos of the lower levels, larger than some small countries and housing a population of over ten million. Airship casinos, building length advertisements and massive golden statues of gods and mythological creatures on the tops of skyscrapers. Called the City of Heroes due to the number of NEXT (powered) individuals that come flocking due to the popularity of Hero TV and the various reality entertainment programs focused on them. Less than a hundred years ago NEXT were considered dangerous outlaws, segregated and even hunted, but the slow push by billion dollar media companies like Vere Royal Media has seen a shift in public opinion. NEXT individuals are still required to be tested as children and licensed by the Justice Bureau and there is some lingering racial prejudice, especially in the ghettos, but many now aspire to become Heroes and super-idols starring on Hero TV. NEXT with dangerous or unstable powers can be required to undergo yearly evaluations and ordered by the courts to wear power limiter collars, or provide documentation of their abilities to any government official. Becoming a Hero of any level is considered a way to escape the usual social restrictions.
Hero TV features live footage of superhero battles, criminal arrests, grudge-matches between feuding heroes, audience chosen “deadly games” and trials. Originally criticized for glorification of violence and the possibility of onscreen death, Hero TV defends its programming with the assertion that all citizens deserve to know exactly what kind of protectors their money supports, and that they deserve to know the “real” stories of the NEXT that live among them. Many of the criminals featured on the show are NEXT as well and certain minimum standards have to be met before a capture priority changes to a kill order. No Hero is allowed to kill indiscriminately without being branded as a vigilante and dropped from their corporate status.
Hero TV originally began as a project to generate revenue from specialized NEXT prisons, featuring gladiator type matches and team competitions and using the inmates as both stars and cannon fodder for loosely scripted conflicts. The corporate sponsoring of Heroes was meant to take the pressure off the overburdened and underfunded Justice Bureau but has since evolved into a billion dollar business, scouting, promoting and managing Heroes in the same fashion as music idols and movie stars. Heroes are extremely closely monitored and their behavior controlled by contracts and image developers. Their corporate owners also may lend their powers out as part of business contracts, science ventures, or disaster relief.
While many question the morality of promoting potentially fatal activities as entertainment, Hero TV benefits from its partnership with the Justice Bureau, which has declared the channel and its employees exempt from regular broadcasting standards. Sex, violence, nudity, profanity, ‘true crime,’ and other such scandals are all considered part of the Hero TV package, although many of the more risque games are restricted to live, invite-only shows catering to the rich and famous.
Vere Royal Media, Vask Imperial, and Patras Inc are considered the Big Three companies in Arles with long-standing family dynasties and ties to the Hero business, with VRM at the top of the triangle. VRM sponsors the Hero Academy that most young NEXT apply to attend. VRM was founded by the Royal family and passed down from father to son until the joint ownership of brothers Aleron and Regis. Aleron and his wife were killed in a mysterious fire years ago, leaving their two young sons Auguste and Laurent behind. Auguste was pushed by the trauma into presenting as a NEXT, rescuing himself and his baby brother from the fire, and went on to become the popular hero known as Sunburst while Regis Royal took sole ownership of VRM. Several anti-NEXT extremist organizations took credit for the fire and some arrests were made, but the case was never fully resolved. Eyewitness testimony from a ten year old Laurent placed an unknown shooter in the room that Auguste never caught sight of, although many doubted the word of an understandably traumatized child. The Regent supported his nephews and made them his wards, and also chose to support their belief that the killer could possibly still be out there.
As Sunburst, Auguste Royal absorbed energy from the sun and manifested the ability to fly, manipulate light, and shoot plasma beams. He was known for his candid and open approach to being a Hero, making no attempt to disguise his already celebrity level secret identity. He frequently went off-book and off-script, visiting the ghetto levels and sponsoring various charities, and won the King of Heroes title three seasons in a row on Hero TV. He was killed in the line of duty in what became known as the Marlas Incident, a massive terrorist attack that killed or crippled multiple heroes and forced several more to retire. A number of Junior Heroes and newcomers were pushed into these absences, creating an almost entirely new roster.
One of these new up and coming Heroes was the young Fire Prince Damianos, an erratic but powerful Hero from the neighboring city-state of Ios and sponsored by Iosian company Akielos Industries. Companies based outside of Arles traditionally had a difficult time finding a foothold in the competitive Arles media scene. Damianos notably scored very few points in the trials and contests but developed a loyal cult following for his willingness, like Auguste, to break rules, and he cemented his controversial status when he disobeyed retreat orders as a Junior Hero and went to help an isolated Sunburst during the Marlas Incident. Some claim this was a calculated move intending to dethrone the King of Heroes at a critical time, some claim it was an accident, some claim he truly meant to help, but Damianos and Sunburst disappeared under enemy fire together and only Damianos returned alive from the battlefield. In the aftermath of the tragedy that claimed dozens of civilian lives, VRM chose not to launch an official investigation, preferring not to drag out the trauma. Damianos was promoted from the Junior League on schedule to a mixed audience response, which would follow him for years afterwards on the polls, eventually leading to the financial collapse that allowed VRM to acquire Akielos Industries and gain control of its assets. VRM formally dissolved the Damianos persona and fired most of AI’s Hero department in what some called political revenge for Sunburst’s death. VRM countered with a statement that both they and the newly formed subsidiary Kastor Industries offered employment to many of AI’s “refugees.”
VRM refused to comment on the status of Hero Damianos, who has not been seen in public since the merger announcement. Many speculate that he retired and returned to Ios, or disappeared somewhere on the Continent to participate in one of the many amateur leagues. As a Hero with a closely guarded secret identity, it would be possible for him to make a comeback under another persona, but due to VRM’s notorious influence over the application process it seems unlikely that they would ever let Damianos work again as a Hero.
As for Auguste’s younger brother, the sixteen year old Laurent Royal (who had already shown some signs of presenting as a NEXT), immediately followed in his brother's footsteps and enrolled at the Hero Academy after the Marlas Incident. He did not debut in any of the Junior leagues but stayed enrolled until the age of twenty-one. Rumors claim that he was hiding from his brother's mantle or the reality of his death, running his own investigations, or avoiding the business position at VRM that would have been waiting for him at eighteen. He allowed his uncle full control of VRM and finally made his hero debut under his own name, Royal. Due to his ice based powers and unforgiving demeanor, he was immediately nicknamed the Ice Prince by fans. VRM chose to debut Royal as part of a hero team, his partner being an unknown and relatively weak fire-user introduced as Gladiator. VRM has not released many details about this newcomer, but claims that he is a veteran Hero from a Continental amateur league chosen to support the young Royal and contrast his powers. He is contractually bound not to discuss his past before accepting the Gladiator role, which is usually a reference to disqualifying infractions made under looser amateur league rules. Such disposable “booster characters” drawn from outside Arles are often used in teams to support new or highly publicized Heroes and are ordered to take damage and arrange scenarios where their partners can claim points.
Gladiator remains at the bottom of the polls, seen by Royal’s fans as a publicity gimmick who is only holding their Prince back and viewed by industry professionals as a comfortable scapegoat in the event of Royal’s failure.
[ It went down like a war.
Akielos Industries was not a small company, but they were new to the corporate Hero business and perhaps, gossip said, hadn't made the necessary under the table alliances with the Big Three to stay afloat. VRM, Patras Inc, and Vask Imperial only grudgingly shared their royal tables with smaller upstarts like Delpha Ltd, and VRM had been the company responsible for the very first corporate hero and the very first iteration of HeroTV.
For Damen it was an attack on all fronts: he'd lost his corporate sponsorship, his company swallowed up in a hostile takeover with half its assets repurposed and those remaining rebranded as Kastor Industries, given to the man who had persuaded the board to sell and helped broker the deal. The small Hero department that used to support Damen was fired in its entirety, with some of the younger staff given away to VRM as unpaid interns. They would be little more than slaves without experience or seniority to save them from the shark pool that made up VRM’s Hero Department. The 'Damianos' persona, costume, and equipment were all intellectual property of Akielos and stripped from him, and the special NEXT private hospital that had been tending his comatose father announced regretfully that they would no longer be able to continue without Akielos funding. Even in the depths of his coma Theomedes burned, and an ordinary hospital couldn’t manage him.
Also, Jokaste broke up with him. Spectacularly. She'd pushed him and pushed him but he didn't care about the King of Heroes title, he didn't keep track of points or popularity scores or being a celebrity. He had only ever wanted to use his powers for something righteous and to prove that Arles heroes weren’t any better than the heroes from every other city and every other nation. Jokaste didn’t give a shit about that. She wanted more than he could give her, and she wasn't shy about letting him know it, or about kicking him out of the apartment they'd shared for nearly a year. Kastor, she said, was a real up-and-comer, and Jokaste was a kingmaker.
He had been the one to introduce them.
Damen had been going to propose to her, wanting to get married before Theomedes finally passed on. He’d thought maybe, somehow, it might help. A wife. A child. Fat chance of any of that when his required post-sponsorship recertification came and went, and he failed like a newly presented teenager. He was upset, of course he was upset, and his flames raged out of control the more the tester talked at him, sketching out his dwindling future before they’d even started. They slapped a heavy duty limiter on him right then and there and told him to seek professional ability help or he’d end up in one of the NEXT containment prisons where they sent people to disappear.
There was never any choice when he got the call from Guion, the VRM talent manager, which was a fancy fucking name for the Regent’s hound dog. Sign a new contract or be out on your ass.
He signed it. He didn’t read it. What would be the point, since he had no choice but to agree?
The new suit was prickly and uncomfortable, the staff around him were prickly and uncomfortable, the scripts they gave him to read (“just shake your head and pretend you don’t speak the language”) were uncomfortable. The limiter collar was uncomfortable. He was mad at everything, and they’d given him to a spoiled aristocratic brat with free license to treat him as drudge, whipping boy, bodyguard, or literal furniture. He held Royal’s coffee cup during interviews. He held Royal’s towel during gym sessions. He nodded or shook his head at appropriate times during interviews. He stood between Royal and screaming, crazed fangirls waving signs and chanting his name and throwing their bras. He didn’t take the garish, gold-painted mask off. He didn’t take the collar off, even when it amused Royal to put a fine-linked chain on it and hold the end like a leash. He moved out of the way of the cameras so Royal could have the spotlight, he grudgingly restrained himself to Royal’s calm (cold) and tactical (ruthless) strategies during battles, and he told no one that his powers were being throttled down to ten percent, pressure building up inside him until he knew it really would be unsafe to take the collar off. Under the dampening effect it was an exhaustive effort to produce quality flames, and there were humiliating days where they had to bring in one of the Juniors, Firedancer, to manipulate his own fire for him. Firedancer was more special effects artist than hero, excelling at creating shapes in the flames, but he couldn’t generate even a spark on his own and he wasn’t fireproof like Damen.
Letting someone else touch his fire when his mind and will were threaded through it was intimate and violating. He gritted his teeth and endured it while Royal watched critically. Firedancer blew him a kiss.
He was angry all the time. Guion smiled at him, knowing how effectively he was chained. The Regent watched him with cool appraisal during the rare times they interacted. Royal didn’t even glance in his direction if he could help it. Damen wasn’t permitted to leave the VRM grounds without permission and an escort, and his employee housing was a closet masquerading as an on-campus dormitory. The shitty salary he drew went to his father.
The other heroes knew, of course, or perhaps they guessed, but nobody spoke of it. He and Nik had been friends for too long to not recognize each other, even in wildly different armor and costumes, but they didn’t get much chance to work with each other on the field and even less chance to speak during downtime, when everything was monitored. Makedon, who had never known Damianos personally, assumed he was exactly what he was being sold as, and called him a corporate whore spreading his legs for the worst of the gold-shitting Arles bastards. Wasn’t your country good enough for you? Weren’t your countrymen real heroes, or does saving lives only count if you’re on VRM screens?
Damen put up with it without calling a duel. Damianos would not have, and he could see Nik’s puzzled expression meant that he was slowly losing faith that the man behind Gladiator’s mask could possibly be his old friend.
Maybe Damianos really was dead.
There was so much he’d never seen from the outside. Heroes that he’d always assumed were from small, independent companies like his own showed up unobtrusively at private VRM functions. The Big Three had wiggled through every loophole and argued every rule into knots. Everyone had alliances and ties and affiliations. Captain and Lancer belonged to VRM through a series of shell companies. Freestyle, who he’d always vaguely assumed was one of Vask Imperial’s, spent evenings on the arm of Hero TV’s ultra stylish and ultra ruthless producer Vannes, who answered directly to the Regent. Siren and Pearl and Firedancer.
Vask Imperial’s Hunter and Rider pair were somehow on good terms with Royal, although god only knew how a flashy young upstart like him had caught their attention. They were serious Heroes who knew their work and had carefully built and cultivated a following. A voting bloc almost always protected them in the polls, which was something Damen had always felt must be nice for other people.
Most VRM employees hated him, actually. He’d never told anyone that he was from Ios but maybe they assumed it, or they just assumed anyone with dark skin and an accent was a foreigner like the one that had gotten Sunburst killed. It had been years ago, but people still carried Marlas around in the hallways and the offices like something that had happened yesterday. It was legitimately horrifying. He’d been blind, before, assuming that VRM was anything like the other companies. Assuming that one mistake wouldn’t be held against him for the rest of his natural life.
Royal-- Laurent-- hated him, too. He never asked for Damen’s real name. He gave orders and he played nasty little power games with important men in suits and he told Damen calmly, precisely, that he was waiting for the day he fucked up or lost control and could be found in breach of his contract, and then he really would disappear. Gladiator and Royal would go back to just Royal, the way he preferred it.
Apparently the idea of a Hero team had been the Regent’s idea. Apparently Laurent did not agree, but wasn't willing to get his hands dirty to rid himself of Damen. Damen, he was certain, would make himself intolerable all on his own.
Damen won thirty stripes in a live, private punishment game and nearly burned down the building when his limiter cracked open, the whip burning to ash in midair, so that was probably a fair assumption. People gave him a wider berth after that, though.
Laurent hated him, but he listened when Damen spoke haltingly of the plight of the former Akielos staff, Erasmus and Lykaios and the others. They were being mistreated. They were being put in danger in the field, ordered to get too close to battles in hopes of a lucky camera shot. Erasmus had suffered a burn that scarred him badly.
Damen made a bargain and Laurent made an arrangement with Torveld, the earth-manipulation Hero. A good man on the edge of retirement from active duty, looking to fill his company's Hero Department with young talent. And somehow, slowly, things began to change. Laurent brought him back to spend the night at his expensive (and spartan) penthouse apartment after missions after weeks of not giving a shit about Damen's little prison cell in the depths of the dormitories. He said it was more convenient for Damen, his Regent appointed personal chewtoy, to be on hand at all hours to be given orders, in case Laurent "needed anything." Laurent never needed anything.
Laurent asked his advice on missions once or twice. They made an arrest together, instead of Damen being shoved out of the way. Then another. Another. Laurent fell through a glass ceiling, Damen caught his hand instinctively. Laurent pushed him out of a bullet's path. They went to the medical wing for the same injuries, they shared the mobile trailer and the dressing rooms for interviews, they shared the shower when they had to. Nicaise tried to sabotage them. They went undercover for a mission, dressed in ridiculous costumes and pretending to be civilians. They spent boring, endless hours on stakeouts, arguing about everything, knowing only the last five minutes of their time would be shown on Hero TV. Talik tried to win Damen's ass on live television during a forfeit game broadcast at midnight, and Ancel tried to win Laurent's first onscreen kiss. Neither of those worked out. Jord won Aimeric.
Kashel won Damen eventually, but had to claim her prize in Laurent's apartment while he and Halvik discussed god knew what in another language in the other room. Damen and Kashel kept themselves busy.
A man on the street tried to knife Laurent and Damen broke his arm. A copycat tried to frame Gladiator for a crime and Laurent gave him an alibi. A NEXT with the ability to poison someone on skin contact poisoned several popular Heroes, Laurent among them, briefly uniting the lower ranked Heroes. Damen didn't crack the case (that was Jord, who figured out the culprit's poisons only worked on NEXT, and Jord was a normal human), but he brought the antidote to the hospital himself and clasped his hands around Laurent's slender fingers, helping him drink without spilling.
In his drugged delirium, Laurent called him Auguste, and clung to his arm.
Things changed.
no subject
The music is low and somber and when they bury him, there are roses, a smattering of a few others.
It is, someone says, not realizing who he is or perhaps not caring, the nicest wedding they've ever been to. Auguste would have loved it.
It takes everything in him not to whirl around and hold them still until he explains in perfect, pristine detail the level to which Auguste would have hated this monstrosity and would have laughed at anyone who dared call it perfect. Call a spade a spade. It was a funeral. It didn't matter how lovely it was, how many people came, how good the catering is, whether or not the wine was flowing. None of it mattered because at the end of the day, they still lowered Auguste's body - if there was anything left, they wouldn't even tell him - into the ground and the dirt still covered it. Auguste still died, reduced to a (very nice, very expensive) rock in the middle of the ground, with nothing else.
Laurent throws himself into the fray of Heroes and school and everything between. He finishes his school work with perfect marks across the board and unsurprisingly, does what is necessary for being a Hero, too. Auguste, he's told very warmly, would be proud. As if they knew him. As if they were thinking about anything but how his success would benefit themselves.
He doesn't freeze their hands off as they utter it when they shake with him, but he does spread the faintest sheen of slick across the ground later that night, watching them tumble, the ice melting away into vapor before anyone knows what's happened. Someone ought to have caught on by this point - they're in the twenties, now, with how many times it's been hollowly uttered. At some point, someone ought to catch on but it's just a waiting game.
It would be foolish not to keep track of all the others out there, so he does. Notes who they are, weaknesses and strengths, keeps it all filed away and gives pretty, nonsense answers where asked. There is, after all, someone out there who killed his family. There's a puzzle and he has some of the pieces but he needs more time, needs the connections this gains him to be able to start putting them together.
His uncle, of course, thinks it a fool's errand but doesn't try to stop him. He rests a hand on his shoulder and tells him how proud he is, while Laurent sits ramrod straight and stares straight ahead and thinks someday.
It is a very, very cruel joke the world plays on him when he finds himself saddled with - bad enough, another Hero, but worse yet, this Gladiator. It's someone's idea of a joke - the network, perhaps, or someone else. Just as Marlas, as Auguste stop being mentioned in the press for any period of time, they pick right back up again with speculations on Royal. On his thoughts about the Gladiator, on how he felt being partnered with one of the very men who may have been responsible for the death of his brother. But how do you feel, Royal, he hears, over and over again and smiles prettily and delivers the lines with just the right inflection, the right gestures, every time. This is a game he can play.
The worst of it, though, is that the idiot, the Gladiator, is too stupid to actually be responsible for any of the things that Laurent so desperately wishes to pin on him. He's huge and bumbling and a barbarian whose company apparently was so mismanaged that he wound up here. It's supposed to boost ratings, to ensure that things keep on the track that those who control them would have them be on, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He makes a show of it, delicate chains attached to the limiter, neatly stopping Gladiator from saying anything where he might make a mess of things. He manages the brute and really ought to be thanked for it, rather than saddled with him permanently, but that isn't the way of the world.
And then. And then, things change. It's Damen, instead of Gladiator. The brute, the barbarian isn't as awful as initially suspected. Despite everything, there is intelligence under dark curls and a ridiculous mask. There is kindness, despite the world treating him otherwise and from every single moment Laurent has seen, it's kindness without the expectation of payment back. Kindness for the sake of kindness. Every time Laurent digs his hands into the tangled web that Damen manages to get himself caught in, it's someone else, it's Damen, big guileless eyes, a sweet smile and the declaration of I just want to help.
It's infuriating. It's utterly infuriating and Laurent hates him for that, too, among a thousand other reasons. He hates him so much he thinks that he could never, ever feel anything else but he grows used to the idiot. Growing used to turns into a sort of complacency. Complacency shifts into mutual respect and instead of his lips twitching when Damen nearly loses an arm, he finds himself dragging a hand up, summoning a wall. They fight better together, not even thinking about it, than they ever have before. He hears the talk about ratings and approvals and everything under the sun but he doesn't care. As long as they continue as they are, there's less attention turned on him while he tries to track down the monster still out there.
He forges alliances where he can, nothing on paper, nothing tracked, nothing but words and handshakes because that has to be good enough. Damen has what sounds like a very adventurous night with Kashel, while Laurent and Halvik work over the particulars of their deal, quiet and careful that no one thinks to listen in on them. It is, he says lazily, very boring to listen to.
And then of course - because nothing, nothing is easy, he winds up at death's door due to a simple slip, something he should have caught, but didn't. Jord is the one who solves it, but it's not Jord - or his uncle, at his side when it's done. That night, he feels a warm hand clasping his, hears soft words as the doctors check on him and thinks Auguste.
When he wakes, it's nothing so pretty. They give him a slew of medication, instructions on bed rest and look at Damen as if he's supposed to be Laurent's keeper, and not the other way around. One look at him should be enough to project that no matter what they're telling him, Laurent fully intends to do things his own way.
Once back at his apartments, the spread of medication across the marble countertops, Laurent finally dares to look at him, his heart beating what feels like audibly, his hands curled tight against the marble. If it's out of anger or to support himself from keeling over, it doesn't matter; Damen isn't fool enough to ask, he hopes. ]
If you expect me to thank you- [ Laurent pauses, waiting until he's certain that he has Damen's attention, tongue rolling over the long Akielon vowels, the mouthful of jumbled words that somehow makes a language. ] You shouldn't hold your breath.
no subject
[ the doctors give him stern marching orders like they think anybody can keep laurent from doing exactly as he pleases, which is at least a change from the days when everyone's gazes slid right past him and he was treated as inconvenient furniture. there wasn't much dignity in playing a booster character. half the staff still believe that laurent had to teach him the language here.
anyway he nods and agrees, and dutifully repeats these instructions to their producer, vannes, over the hero comms, and then repeats them again to guion and again to the other heroes who poke their heads in, until he finally tells them all to go bother literally anyone else for the information since laurent wasn't the only victim and pulls his wrist comm off. vannes hates it when the pair of them go dark, but it won't do any good to steal laurent's comm unit only to have damen's own light up every five minutes with alerts about crimes in progress.
once upon a time, it chafed him that he wasn't allowed to be a hero in public unless royal was with him. now he has permission to respond to emergencies as he sees fit, but going out on his own feels different these days. limiter or not, he finds himself thinking that he's not at his full potential in battle without laurent there with him, because they're a team.
three days isn't really that much time, one would think. laurent could still do interviews, except damen has since figured out that laurent secretly hates interviews, hates photoshoots, hates anything where people pick and pry at him and try to get him to "open up" about himself. for all that so many people in the city already know so many details about laurent's extremely public life, they grasp at him for every possible detail. his favorite colors, his favorite foods. what does he want in a girlfriend. what does he hate, what does he like.
laurent looks like a pampered model or society debutante who has never done anything in his life except choose clothes and spend money and chatter about the latest gossip, but he likes training, he likes using his powers in real combat. he likes catching crooks and saving people. he likes winning as much as damen does.
he likes reading, and classical music, and horses and falconry, and solving mysteries. he'd spent his whole life locked away in his apartments researching the shadowy crime syndicate potentially responsible for his family's deaths, Ouroboros, if someone didn't remind him to eat and sleep and go outside. not that the public has any idea how obsessed with revenge he is with the way he smiles and waves for the cameras and talks about inconsequentials during interviews. damen doesn't know if anyone else knows it, not even their fellow heroes.
just like he'd chosen to hide that he can speak damen's language, which still comes like a shock of cold water every time he does it. laurent uses it like a weapon.
damen exhales forcibly, shrugging off his jacket and bracing himself for a fight. three days of bed rest and forced proximity doesn't sound too strenuous, if one didn't know laurent. he responds in the same tongue, as mildly as possible. laurent doesn't like being blindsided by accidents. laurent doesn't like hospitals (although damen hates them more), or being too weak to get out of bed without help. laurent doesn't like having to rely on others. ]
Somewhere in that Hero oath I swore was a line about protecting the lives of "all good and decent citizens of Arles." I suppose that includes you. Probably.
[ he hangs up his jacket, absently running fingers over the thick metal of the limiter collar on his neck. ]
Besides, it could've been the other way around. I was right behind you, shaking hands with all those people. He could've gotten us both.
[ perks of being unpopular, apparently. their suspect had only been targeting contenders for the King of Heroes title, aka those with the best rankings in the polls. ]
no subject
His private life is just that, private, as much as it can be. Admittedly, this choice of...career doesn't really lend itself to that, but it isn't a career so much as a means to an end. When he finds out who was responsible, he will -- he'll-- he doesn't know. Mostly, he's not sure if he'll survive that long, but he fully intends to try.
Grudgingly, he admits that it is going to be easier with Gladiator beside him, and oh, that bites at him, leaves his stomach twisted in knots at the idea of relying on someone. Even with Auguste, he hadn't relied on him so much as it was a partnership; there was the open door whenever he needed to talk, he knew Auguste just as well as he knew himself.
After his passing, he didn't...have that. His relationship with Damen is only slowly starting to shift and grow into something past mutual dislike for each other and Damen is proving himself to be less the Akielon beast and brute and more a genuinely thoughtful man. It's frustrating.
Almost as frustrating as looking at the variety of pills he's supposed to take - antibiotics, and sleeping pills and who knew what else. Grudgingly, he starts divvying them up by day and sets them neatly into the little day by day container that was sent home with him in a cheerful blue plastic bag. It's ridiculous, but he isn't about to balk at the idea of getting better, not when the alternative is ending up in bed longer with the barbarian looming over him. ]
Probably. [ The word is sour as he reaches into the fridge and brings out a sparkling bottle of water, only to find that he can't uncap it. Nonchalantly, it's set on the counter and Laurent leans more of his weight on it, unwilling to show any sign of weakness as they stand there. ] That must chafe.
[ Another attempt, forcing his weak fingers to curl, to tighten, to twist and a few moments later it breaks free with a soft hiss and he's left relieved he didn't have to mention any sort of help. ]
He was likely only interested in taking down those he perceived as a threat. [ It's delivered lightly enough, like it's not a back-handed insult, like it's nothing but a nonchalant observance of a man who had nearly killed him by touching him, no battle, no fight, just a touch in the middle of everything going on. And then: ] He was an idiot. It certainly didn't serve him well.
[ Considering he was caught and very likely dead, now. No great loss.
Idly, he glances at Damen to see if he was quick enough to catch the insinuation that perhaps Damen wasn't entirely useless. He might not. Laurent doesn't hold his breath. ]
no subject
(he would have taken it from him in another moment, probably. he wouldn't have made laurent ask.)
what he does do is sweep into the kitchen and start pulling out shit to make dinner. his contract literally does include menial labor bullshit like acting as laurent's personal assistant (one of the first times they'd ever spoken, laurent had coolly ordered him to pick up his dry cleaning), but this is just something they started doing one day and then forgot to stop. like any other rich asshole laurent has groceries delivered and can't cook to save his life ("that's what other people are for, damen"), so it's a coin toss between takeout and damen channeling his inner housewife, and he needs something to do with his hands. watching laurent sweat and writhe on white hospital sheets reminded him too closely of his father, still in the slow process of dying from his NEXT abilities burning him up from the inside. a fever instead of an open flame.
that will probably happen to damen, someday. just one more thing to look forward to, if laurent's rabid 'fans' don't murder them both first.
confessing he'd been worried would be stupid, so he keeps his voice as light as laurent's, even if he hasn't had as much practice at coming off nonchalant. it's not like they don't risk their lives every day. what would be the point of getting upset or yelling at laurent to be more careful? the most he'd probably do in reaction would be to arch a brow and ask if random outbursts were a cultural thing. ]
Maybe if you wore a mask out of uniform like all the other heroes, people wouldn't have such an easy time targeting you in the middle of a crowd. Nobody knows I look like.
[ gladiator had eyes of glowing gold and hair of fire with his powers activated, and even the damianos costume had included a helmet. many of the other heroes changed their hair color in costume or had voice synthesizers, or had masks to obscure their features when out of uniform. royal is the only hero that goes around with his real face and his real hair and his real voice without trying to hide a thing. ]
no subject
Laurent wins over the bottle and mechanically starts taking the pills he's been given, one after the other. It's ridiculous, that he has to do this, given his abilities but it's also his abilities that landed him in this position in the first place. Isn't that a bitch and a half.
He pushes himself against the counter to let Damen through; it's instinct, though the kitchen is absurdly large and he doesn't need to, Damen's presence alone is huge, the prickle of him sliding past something tangible that sends prickles across his skin. It's infuriating - everything is, this last week. How lovely.
While his partner busies himself with whatever disaster he's trying to do in the kitchen, Laurent downs the last one and then begins the arduous task of getting from the counter to either the bar seating (high, going to be a pain to hop up onto) or the couch (far, he just can't win). A moment of deliberation settles on the couch and he starts taking slow, careful footsteps to it until he can gracefully settle down onto the plush material, pressing his warm face into the cool cushions. Exhaustion settles over him like a blanket, despite the sheer amount of sleep he's been getting daily since falling ill. ]
If I wanted your horrendous suggestions, rest assured, it's not my voice that's injured. I could ask for them.
[ It's rather difficult to sound condescending while oozing onto the cushions of the couch but he thinks he pulls it off well enough, an arm hanging over the edge, his eyes lidded as he scans the coffee table for the remote. Of course it's out of range.
This, at least, he can chalk up to just being a pain to Damen, rather than out of any real need. ]
Fetch me the remote. And what are you making?