towerofanimus | Locked in the Tower ✪ Part Four: Don't Turn Your Back on the City

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Locked in the Tower ✪ Part Four: Don't Turn Your Back on the City

Characters:	David "Little David" Puskás, and all youse guys!
Setting:	All day March 9—Residential Floors, Floors 1, 14, 39, and 100
Format:	Matching tagger's choice, but starting with Prose.
Summary:	In the morning, martial arts training at the gym. Later in the day, David seeks out Waver and Diarmuid and chills at the Media Room. Toward the evening, David "visits" home on Floor 100. Also, random encounters in the Cafeteria.
Warnings:	None come to mind!

Option A: Floor Thirty-One (Gymnasium, Morning)

     Earlier last month, David had met Reno, and taken up his offer on getting some martial arts training, given that without ammunition for his rifle, he's quite effectively declawed. Reno says he likes getting that training done in the morning, so David's up bright and early today for his first lessons. It also looks like his powered armor is finally behaving itself, as he's casually floating into the gym using the suit's flight system.

     Although David's waiting for Reno, he's not above chatting it up with anyone else that might be in the gym if Reno's not there yet. Until then, he'll be idly examining the gym equipment, seeing what there is available, and—

     —oops, that tiny weight sure did slam on the ground hard.

     "Da heck is dis thing, made of lead?" David mutters as he cuts power to the flight system and tries to pick it up. Even with the motor-assist functions in his suit, he's having to put some effort into putting it back on the weight rack.

Option B: Dormitory Floors (Especially Floor Two, Afternoon)

     Later, David makes another attempt to find several people he's looking for—namely, Waver Velvet and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. By now, just about everyone he's asked has named Diarmuid the go-to guy for learning how to fight with a sword. David's still got that Orcish sword on him, and as the only real weapon in his whole arsenal here at the Tower, he's got to learn how to use it. As for Lord El-Melloi II, David aims to talk to him about the results of the library Easter egg hunt.

     ... but, really, David should have done this before Zo's surprise rearrangement of residential assignments. Not that he had any reason to suspect it was going to happen, but it's made this a bit more difficult than it should have been.

     David wanders the residential floors, checking the various room signs for the people he's looking for. He'll find them eventually—even if it takes him a little while to do it. Plenty of time for anyone else to run into him, on chance. When he finds Diarmuid and Waver's housing assignments, though, he'll be knocking on their doors.

Option C: Floor One (Cafeteria, Morning/Noon/Evening)

     David doesn't really understand the significance between the choice of food available for each month, but he is so glad to be done with February.

     He hadn't learned of the resident-run kitchen until partway through the month, thanks to Reno. Up until then, he was flat out avoiding the Cafeteria during dinner hours. As if the side effects of power donation weren't enough.

     Now, though, he's enjoying the menu. Even if it's more suited for a kids' menu, he's not complaining. Not after last month. So, anyone visiting the Cafeteria throughout the day might see David helping himself to a stack of peanut butter pancakes and chocolate milk, sandwiches and mint soda, or spaceship chicken nuggets and vanilla milkshakes—depending on the time of day, of course.

Option D: Floor Fourteen (Media Room, Afternoon)

     "Tossin', turnin', nightmares burnin' / Dreams of swords in hand ..."

     No, that's not David's voice you're hearing over the media room's speakers, but rather Steven Tyler's. David's currently relaxing—in mid-air, no less, and in that laid-back hammock pose that Rolo Lamperouge caught him in a few months ago—while Aerosmith's "Kings and Queens" blares through the speakers. He's taking the time to savor having his powered armor return to full (and proper) functionality again after donating power at the end of January by abusing its flight system to chill out in his own way.

     The song's a lot darker than the type of Aerosmith songs David usually listens to—and the band is more well known for their bright, funky and peppy songs, but ... with recent events, and with some of the kind of people he's run into of late, it seemed fitting. And anyway, he'd missed hearing his favorite bands, since he'd never really visited the Media Room before until Ruana's game last month. It makes him wish he had some sort of MP3 player or walkman on hand. Or, that he had that functionality built into his helmet. Why didn't he ever think of that before?

     "Living times of knights and mares / Raising swords for maidens fair / Sneer at death, fear only loss of pride ..."

     It'd be easy for David to doze off again, but he's a little wary of doing that now. Instead, he floats in his hammock pose with a contented grin, nodding softly to the beat of the music in a sort of half-hearted headbang.

Option E: Floor One Hundred (VR Memory Floor, Evening)

     Floor One Hundred was one of many that David had never paid attention to before. Up until recently, he believed it was always the empty room that he had seen of it—however, after meeting Reno and being shown Ragnarok's files kept in Aria's hideout, now he knows what the floor really is ... and he's really curious to see it for himself. So, late in the day, he makes time to do just that.

     Stepping down onto the floor, the surroundings change into ... a stairwell? No, wait—after a moment, David realizes it's a building's roof access staircase, with the door leading outside open. He hesitates for a moment, before walking outside—and finding that the floor has turned into a roof.

     A roof of a building in Atlas Park. At night, in Paragon City, Rhode Island. America. Primal Earth. His home.

     It's all an illusion, of course. David knew that coming here—and yet, he's moved. Silently. It's a powerful recreation—there's no people visible down on the sidewalks, no Hellions or Vahzilok or other villainous scumbags trying to prey on the citizenry—but, as he approaches the edge of the roof, he can see that there is simulated traffic down there, and in the sky as well. The sights and sounds of a big American city emanate from all around.

     There, in the center of Atlas Park, is Atlas Plaza: City Hall, with the American flag made from Statesman's cape fluttering in the breeze. The massive statue bearing the weight of the world on its shoulders—dedicated to the superhero who gave his namesake to this part of town. The other neighborhoods bordering the seat of Paragon City's municipal government—behind him, the rest of Downside; on the north side of Atlas, The Promenade; Paragon Transit Authority's Yellow Line metrorail snaking its way through the buldings; Hyperion Way, and the entrance to what used to be Eastgate ...

     ... and all around, the shimmering War Walls dividing Atlas Park from the rest of Paragon, taller than almost any skyscraper. The rest of the city just barely visible beyond its energy fields, city lights winking in and out like starlight. Even knowing full well what he's seeing is simulated, David can't help but feel the urge to light up a stogie and survey the landscape for signs of trouble. Well—he doesn't have a lighter, but he does still have a fresh cigar in that travel case.

     With a quiet sigh, David fishes that cigar out of the case and places it in his mouth, contenting himself to at least feel he was back on Primal Earth ... if only for a short time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[David's never actually seen a picture of Diarmuid before, and no one ever really described what he looked like. So, David falls for the bluff completely.]

Buncha people I talked to in da Tower's told me he's da best guy to go to for learnin' how to fight with swords.

[He's brought his Orc blade and everything! It's hanging off of his suit's utility belt, opposite the side where his Vanguard "Redding" Rifle is waiting at his thigh.]

An' hey, all a better to learn from another hero, yanno?

I see.

[Diarmuid crosses his arms over his chest loosely, a contemplative look on his face. Never mind the spear that is being carried on his back, David. Or the swords at his hips. He's totally not talking about himself here...]

Did those people also tell you he's actually a master of spears and that swords are only his secondary specialty? That doesn't bother you?

[Another hero, hu? He can't help but wonder who exactly these people David is talking to are.]

He might argue with the hero bit. He tends to find it hard to believe that someone who has made so many mistakes and has so many flaws can be a hero. The people you talked to must hold him in very high esteem...

I got told he uses spears a lot, yeah.

[Here, David shrugs before continuing.]

If swords ain't his specialty, dat's arright. He's still gotta be really good with 'em what with how many people were tellin' me to go see 'em.

[David pauses again to consider what else this guy's saying about Diarmuid. He ... sure does seem to know a lot about how Diarmuid thinks and feels. Is he a close friend?]

[Regardless, David's expression turns into something like sympathy.]

An' anyway ... he ain't da only hero who's made screwups, believe me.

No...and he's been told that those kind of mistakes and flaws actually make a person a better hero because it helps them to relate to those who they are helping. Of course, he also has a rather thick skull when it comes to this kind of thing...

[Diarmuid smiles as if David's answer is the correct one to a test he doesn't even know he is being given. He puts a hand to his chest and bows to the man.]

Forgive me, for the questions. I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. You are looking for someone to teach you how to use a blade? You don't use more modern weapons with that odd suit of armor?

[Or, perhaps, that is why he is needing to learn. Ammo is limited in a place like this and he might be low or out. Aleph had been conserving his own supplies the last time Diarmuid talked to his friend for just that reason.]

[At first, David looks surprised at Diarmuid introducing himself, but then he chuckles.]

Dat an Irish thing?

[He doesn't sound judgmental when he says that. However, David continues on:]

When da admins brought me to da Tower, dey left all my ammo back home. See—

[David unclips the Vanguard "Redding" Rifle from the thigh mount and holds it out for Diarmuid to look at ... without really thinking on whether or not Diarmuid would know what a rifle is, or what ammo is. Even though he's already met a number of people who clearly come from worlds and times where such things are alien, he still has a tendency to think in terms of Primal Earth—where warriors of bygone ages can team up with aliens and time travelers from the future.]

A Blaster dat can't blast ain't gonna do much for da public good.

[Also, that rifle is about as tall as he is.]

[One of the pluses to having been in the Tower over a year is that Diarmuid has had some time to see weapons like the one David is showing. Okay, so nothing exactly like that, but close enough that he isn't left totally confused by its modern make and large size. He frowns, looking at the weapon closer and nodding.]

How inconvenient. You're right. It's not much good without ammunition unless, of course, you are good at beating people with it.

[Though, that might just damage the weapon. Diarmuid certainly has no idea how delicate its inner workings are.]

My name is Irish, you have that much correct. Are you familiar with my homeland?

[David gives Diarmuid a wry grin.]

Nah—I know dere's ways of fightin' hand-to-hand with a rifle, but I never bothered learnin'. When things get up close an' personal, I just punch 'em. An' use tasers—

[His voice seamlessly drops to a mildly frustrated mutter.]

—which I also don't got any ammo for.

[Ah, the plight of a Technology-origin superhero. David puts the rifle back on its thigh mount as he continues, answering Diarmuid's question.]

Anyways, well—yeah, I know of Ireland, but I never been dere. Though—where I'm from we got a lot of weird stuff goin' down involvin' stuff from Ireland. I dunno—would you know of 'em?

[Since Lord El-Melloi II knew of it, maybe Diarmuid would too ... If he were well versed in Irish lore—which David isn't—he would be inclined to assume so.]

What is a 'taser?'

[While Diarmuid was given a lot of information about modern day by the Grail, modern day for his war was the 1990s. Even then, if the Grail didn't think something was pertinent to the war, it didn't fill him in on it.

Apparently, tasers weren't important to the war. Normally, he would be a lot more curious about something unknown to him, but David's odd way of speaking about Ireland distracts Diarmuid completely.]

What do you mean stuff from Ireland? And who is the them you are talking about? Do you mean the Tuatha Dé Danann?

[The fact that Diarmuid figured it out immediately shocks David visibly, so the Lancer can count that as a "Yes." First, though, David's going to answer his first question.]

—uh, well—taser's're less-lethal weapons. I got two built into da back of my gauntlets here—[—David taps on the back of a wrist with his other hand—]—dey fire dese little darts, see, kinda like lil' harpoons or somethin'. 'Cept dey don't puncture. Dey just connect so's da taser can shock whatever it is I'm fightin'. Stuns 'em dat way.

[A beat passes before David continues.]

How'd ya figure I was talkin' about da Dannon guys, anyway?

I see...

[Diarmuid stores the information away for later reference. Right now, he could care less about what a taser is. His eyes narrow slightly, wondering why David has reacted as he has to his mention of the Tuath Dé.]

My father was one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. It is only natural that they come immediately to mind when people speak of the powerful in my homeland. Why does mentioning their name draw such a reaction from you?

[David figures it'll be best to be frank.]

'Kay, so—dere's a whole lot I don't know about da why, just dat it's happenin'—but I'm from da United States an' all. Paragon City, Rhode Island. An' dere's dis small resort town north of where I live called Salamanca, right?

Well—coupla years back, da whole countryside up dere turned into a warzone. Two sides involved, mainly—your dad's people, an' da ... Fill Bulga. Think dat's how you say it.

[David is never good with Celtic pronounciation, as Lord El-Melloi II can attest.]

You mean the Fir Bolg? How is that possible? They were defeated long ago!

[Diarmuid appreciates that David is being frank, but at the same time, what the man is telling him makes no sense. How can his father and the rest of the Tuatha Dé Danann be fighting their old enemies for one thing and why would they be fighting in a land not their own?]

What is it they fight for? The United States is not Ireland and Ireland is the land that my father's people rule and live with...

[He pauses then and then brings a hand up rubbing at his nose and sighing. It is not his father and his people. It's whatever version of them exist on David's world. Still...it makes no sense...]

Stupid Second Magic...

Well dey musta been wantin' a rematch or somethin'. Maybe it's gotta do with dem Red Caps. Lil' punks been causin' all kindsa trouble ... All I know is dat it's one heck of turf fight goin' on up dere, an' both sides got allies ... an' dey don't care much for da rest of us.

[David readjusts the cigar in his mouth for a moment ... If Diarmuid was just one degree away from the Tuatha Dé Danann, he ought to be able to help him figure this next part out.]

By da way, uh—well, your dad wasn't some kinda werewolf-like lookin' thing, right? An' da Fir Bolg—[Trying to pronounce it the way Diarmuid did, though still accented]—dey didn't look like dey were made of sticks with a pumpkin for a head?

The Fir Bolg and the Red Caps? Has the whole Unseelie Court descended upon your homeland?

[To say Diarmuid is shocked would be an understatement. It's like something out of one of the stories told to make sure children behave. His shock, however, shifts into anger at David's next questions.]

What are you talking about? No, that is not what the Fir Bolg look like and my father most certainly does not look like a werewolf. Aengus Og was one of the fairest of the Tuatha Dé Danann. You are lucky I don't strike you down for such an ins--

[Diarmuid pauses and then rubs at his again. It's obviously a stressed out or nervous habit.]

Except it's not. I don't know what the Tuatha Dé Danann of your world are really like, but is sounds like they have very little with those that I knew who share the name...

[Whoa, conversational landmine there. David holds his hands up to try and calm Diarmuid down.]

Hey, I ain't meant no harm—

[... No, that's not going to be enough, David feels. How is he going to make his point here ... wait! The Primal-Praetorian war!]

I do a lotta interdimensional travelin', so I get to see how people differ from one world to another. Heck, before dat ... dimension-eatin' thing hit my hometown, we were fightin' off dis invasion from a world where da greatest superhero of our time was a ruthless tyrant.

[He looks more directly at Diarmuid.]

But ... I think in this case somethin' else is goin' on besides that.

Obviously...

[Diarmuid waves a dismissive hand, trying to dissipate the last of his anger, but also to let David know it's really okay.]

I am sorry. I care for my father a great deal and am...touchy about those who would speak ill of him. Sometimes, it is hard to remember how different a person can be from one world to the next.

Shall we return to discussing the real reason you can to see me? You wish to learn the sword to give you a way to fight without using guns and ammunition...

Well—if it helps? I dunno if I ever saw your dad out dere, just his people.

[Though, yes ... Salamanca is probably best left to a later discussion, if Diarmuid's ever curious. That he mentioned the Unseelie Court, though, leaves David curious—the way Diarmuid mentioned them, it sounds like the Red Caps are members ... ?]

[He oughta tell Diarmuid about Snaptooth's New Year scheme sometime.]

But yeah. I dunno if or when I'll ever get ammo for dis baby, an'—

[Here, David looks a little guilty.]

—well, I gotta start pullin' my weight around here, yanno? Gotta adapt to circumstances instead of sittin' on my hands.

My father is a god of love, youth, and poetry. He would rather not be fighting, but if the Tuatha Dé Danann went to war, he would be with them. If nothing else, he had great healing power.

[Granted, that healing had to be delivered with a kiss, but...details.]

You don't seem like the type content to sit still, so I am sure you have been doing whatever you could even if it hasn't been as much as you would like. We will see if we can't fix that. Being able to adapt for the situation is the strongest skill one can have in battle. The sooner you learn it here, the better. When do you wish to begin?

[Oof. That makes David almost want to talk about Salamanca more. Get the name of Diarmuid's father, and if—when—this dimension-eating plague is reversed, he's going to try and ask the Tuatha Dé Danann about that man.]

[Assuming he can talk to them ... but, David's mind returns to the topic at hand. His guilty expression doesn't leave his face.]

Up until recently—like, "dis year" recently—it wasn't much more dan "tryin' ta find a way to get or make ammo." Dere's a lot more I coulda been doin' for people if I wasn't so fixated on dat ...

[David shrugs.]

Well, I ain't gonna let it stop me anymore. So—any time you're free? Even right now? I'd be game.

Edited (Oops, rewording some of this.) 2014-03-12 06:03 (UTC)

Everyone makes mistakes in action or focus. Right now, you are doing your best to learn and move on from that mistake. It is all you can do and all anyone should expect from you.

[Diarmuid nods and then motions toward his room.]

There are a few things I must finish, but then I would be glad to meet with your to start the training. How about 2 hours from now? Does that work for you?

[A knowing look enters his eyes.]

And perhaps we can talk more of your world and the strange things going on? It seems you wish to talk a bit more and I don't mind hearing.

[David nods a few times in response. Diarmuid's pretty good at reading others, he's noticed—but hey, if the Lancer doesn't mind hearing him out about Salamanca, it just might help him get to the bottom of what's going on there when he gets back. Just—just as long as he won't unlock Expert Training Mode for doing so!]

In two hours? Sounds good ta me. Where do ya usually go for trainin'—da gym?

[Diarmuid nods in the affirmative as he reaches down to pat Mac an Chuill to keep him from getting too board while they are talking. The last thing he wants is for the hound to get into his head that running over to 'greet' David would be a good thing. He has a feeling the man would probably appreciate not having a very large dog jump up on him.]

Yes, I usually train people there. I am a rather...acrobatic fighter, so I prefer doing my training in wide open spaces. It just so happens, the gym is perfect for that.

[Especially given David's short stature—it'd probably be like getting bear hugged by a burly Tanker! David gives Diarmuid a thumbs up in acknowledgment, though.]

Arrighty—I'll see ya dere, den. Don't wanna hold you up from what you gotta do first, heh.

[David revs up his suit's flight system, causing puffs of blue-glowing plasma to flare out of the back and boot-mounted thrusters and kicking him further up into the air—in preparation for heading out.]

[Diarmuid blinks in surprise when David fires up the suit and reaches down to pat Mac an Chuill, who flinches a little at the sudden movement and sound.

He really needs to ask David more about that suit when they meet again.]

Yes, that works. I will see you soon.

[He nods and then directs the hound toward his room.]

[While Diarmuid's heading for his dorm, David heads down the hallway to go find something else to do for two hours—maybe go check out the media room now that Ruana's game's well done and over with.]

[Two hours later, though, David will be waiting for Diarmuid at the gym, this time not fiddling with the weights. He learned his lesson with those earlier this morning, when Sephiroth was there. Instead, he'll be idly floating about, getting a good look at the layout of the gym proper from a dozen or so feet in the air.]

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I'm sorry. Apparently, Diarmuid is still in a pretty good mood from the 'anniversary' party...

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Time warp to two hours later?

If that is what you want, sure!

Yarha!