un: nishizono

[nishizono]

the other guy covered this already but i figure, what can it hurt to ask again? where can i can drugs here. anxiety meds, specifically. no, i don't have anxiety, but i can exhibit similar symptoms from time to time. this is life-threatening, i assure you.

second, because i don't think i can get away with just putting up a "don't fuck with me" attitude when touchy-feelies might actually save lives: i'm a touch-based telepath. yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. no, i can't just shut it off. yes, i won't touch you without permission. no, don't touch me unless i touch you first.

jesus motherfucker this is more words than i've written in years. hi, i'm tetora. i like pizza.

Comments

[nishizono]

i don't have parents. i never had them.

[ it's a basic truth among them. some of the clones had been given to families that had at least tried to raise them somewhat humanely, despite knowing what they're for and what they can do. the ones who were raised unaware never knew any better, not until their charges were triggered and spilled blood that shouldn't, turning on their guardians and the rest of society along with it. no, tetora was raised well-aware of who and what he is. a tool. a weapon. a means to a world-changing end. ]

i'm not saying this for pity.
this is what i've always known.
people don't need to love the things they use, they just have to know how to use them well.
i'm a weapon.

that's how i was taught, and that's all i know to be.
you don't need to be kind to me.

[ death is his normal. murder is what he understands - the intricacies of it, the nooks and crannies of how to pull a man apart limb from limb by hand.

tetora's never hidden of it. ]

does it bother you? what i am?

[oorah]

[ he's never been so invested in another person's story here before, and frank finds himself swept up in his device -- walking with his head buried in it like a millenial. as ever he'll wait for tetora to get to the end before replying, too many things whizzing through his head to pluck them out before then anyway. he thinks of rawlins, what he turned frank into. he thinks of kilgrave and how he'd done the same to jess. and then here... frank and tetora have more in common than he ever would have thought, and the realization breaks his heart.

you don't need to be kind to me. his gaze jumps over to the boy then, nothing but concern writ over it. he doesn't have to read frank's mind to know he's squarely in his corner. it isn't as though he can deny who he is when tetora saw it with his own eyes, or at least what frank suffered as a consequence. he swallows back the familiar dryness clogging up his throat and tries to articulate his feelings. hard enough with words, but near impossible over text. ]

i was a weapon too
the thing is
i thought i was a weapon for the good guys

[ he was wrong. ]

supaa short i'll make it up to you next round

[nishizono]

[ it's what brings him up short, has him stopping in his tracks along the dirt and dust on their path.

for the good guys.

tetora grew up where the only choices were the bad and the worse, with only glimmers of hope caught in between. and those glimmers often died, violently, often at the hands of those sworn to protect them. it's the naivete of the world that protects their little skirmishes from the public eye, creating the illusion that there's a better world to look forward to, but tetora knows not to have that kind of optimism.

the world has cut into him too many times to fool him. shame on it for pretending otherwise. ]

no one makes weapons for the good of everyone.
maybe someone, sure.
a group of people, definitely, why not.
but there's no true good.

i like to think i'm living proof of that.

i'll show u short!!!!

[oorah]

[ he frowns, letting it simmer and deepen into more of a scowl. what hurts is that tetora is right. he hates that more than the rest, that he was so naive; that he ignored his better judgment and got his whole world taken away from him. ]

i know that now

[ frank picks up the pace as they approach the hospital, checking the door before silently easing it open for the other. ]

huffs!!!

[nishizono]

[ he slips right under hotdog's wide reach, and they fall into tandem like they've been doing this for a long time.

in reality, it's just muscle memory and trained responses. at least that's the case for tetora. he was brought up to be a weapon, and with that came training to be adept at adapting, be it to an environment or a person. hotdog isn't the hardest to read; his body language is too big for the space his body occupies, and so his every gesture speaks to the power he has in his muscles. every step is efficient, yet naked; every curl of his fist and silent lifting of stray objects is so clearly defined he might as well be speaking out loud.

tetora marvels at it. how a man who is so much can contain himself in something as flimsy as a human body.

it's as tetora's stripping the tubing from a smashed ventilation machine that he decides: i would kill for this man. ]

u brought this on urself

[oorah]

[ frank doesn't have to know what tetora is doing, he merely helps any way he can. the boy knows best what he needs, frank is just here as the muscle. it's a role that serves him well, even in covert ops, somehow completely silent despite his mass. like so many others here, tetora is more than he appears. he's a slight teenager, but by no means weak. even without his crazy powers, frank knows what he's been through; he knows who he is. and he does accept him exactly that way, no modification needed.

even though he knows it's been picked over, he still ducks into the first floor pharmacy, leaving no stone unturned. he eventually comes out with about six bottles worth of shit tetora may or may not be able to use. then he comes back over and gestures for the boy to turn around so he can stash them in the bag. ]

i have regretti (for the record he's taking his pills in this icon too)

[nishizono]

[ if there's anything childlike left in tetora's frame, it's reserved for moments such as this. the candyman had always called his drugs as sweets, or related to them in those terms. it's a disgusting piece of conditioning, but tetora hasn't gotten over the pavlovian instinct to perk up when presented with pills.

this instance is no different. tetora bounds up to hotdog, hands held out to read the label, and his mouth twists in triumph at the fine print. the bottle with clonazepam, first and foremost among the benzodiazepines hotdog found, is popped open carefully. hotdog gets to witness tetora swallow five pills in one go. after a few moments the effects kick in as tetora's metabolism goes into overdrive and processes the drug. the tension in tetora's shoulders ease out, and he looks at hotdog like he's only really seeing now, for the first time.

it might as well be the truth, really.

then, cheekily, he makes the OK sign. ]

[oorah]

[ he watches the whole process with a cool calmness reserved for battle. he stows the rest of the bottles in the backpack and leaves the klonopin with tetora, then gestures that they should go up a level. if he's taking that many at once, what he found won't last long. he lets out a tiny, relieved breath at the OK sign. then returns it, pushing at tetora's shoulder gently to get him moving. once in the stairwell, he'll take out a device to ask a question weighing on his mind, expression still neutral. ]

do the pills help
with
what you can do?

[nishizono]

they do the opposite.

[ he touches a finger to frank's wrist, because it's easier to communicate telepathically than it is to keep typing. better now while he's still lucid than later, too. ]

Imagine a clock that runs three times as fast. Everything's going faster than actual time does, so the threads on the clock's hands just... wear down to nothing, and then the whole thing falls apart. The drugs calm down all the science-y shit in me.

Back home, there's a specific cocktail I'm supposed to take, in a specific order, and it's supposed to keep me alive for longer. These do in a pinch, but...

[ tetora shakes his own head. ]

The better we are, the quicker we die. [ then, with a wry smile: ] That, and I'm too hooked up on the side effects that the shit won't wash out.

[oorah]

[ he starts at the touch, even though he shouldn't. even if he knows what's coming. he braces himself, but then focuses on the words. he has no choice as they flit into his mind like a projector cast behind his eyes. at least they're just words this time, it's okay when they're just talking. when no one is giving him orders. Be polite with me, Frank. nausea curls in the pit of his belly, but he nods his understanding anyway. ]

That's what I meant.

[ and it really had been. frank's no dummy, even if he doesn't mind when people think that. he might even encourage it. "Look, it's the retard!" it doesn't bother him when he's underestimated. it only gives him the upperhand in the end. but here he isn't trying to best tetora, he's only trying to understand. trying to relate, in the most fundamental way possible.

by 'help' he had meant subdue. if his abilities really are like symptoms then these drugs dampen them. something like that, even if the rest of what the boy says isn't comforting. frank gets that more readily than the rest, and so he wouldn't think of countering. ]

It must feel like a lot, all the time. In your head. [ frank had enough of his own bullshit thoughts and memories without adding in everyone else's. and then another person's agenda -- something he'd just made it through. only barely. he's trying to push down the rage and the violence and the pure heartbreak so he doesn't inflict that on tetora, but in the end all he can do is yank his hand away and start walking again. the last thing this kid needs is to deal with his shit on top of everything else. ]

[nishizono]

[ tetora follows in hotdog's steps, slowly at first, then at a matching speed as they make their way out of the hospital. it's a quiet clip, as much as anything can be quiet in a world of sound eaters, but there's a companionable weight to the silence now that wasn't present before.

still, the frown on hotdog's face remains, and it tickles something ugly in tetora's mind. it's like a bruise, at this point - surfacing at times, blending in with the red and green at others, but always so present on the man's entire existence. it never seems to leave. what's going on in his head? what's wrong? what is he thinking?

tetora shushes that part of him. it's needless, harming, unwanted by the both of them at this point.



they're halfway back to the residences when tetora reaches out, and taps on hotdog's sleeve: ]

thank you

[ he doesn't say that often. if at all. ]

[oorah]

[ frank is grateful for the silence, even if it leaves him alone with his thoughts. jessica and kilgrave, all the children who have come to rely on him, and now david is here too. there are so many people turning to him and it's all he can do not to fall apart.

the taps get the briefest tensing and frank looks back at the young man's face. his lips press in a thin line and he nods. it's as good a 'you're welcome' as tetora is likely to get. even if frank doesn't feel like he's done enough to help. maybe it's best if no one else looks to him for guidance. he'll drop tetora off without communicating another word or sentiment. ]

and DONE.

[nishizono]

[ it's something, at least. tetora's used to men who don't say much with words, who were more comfortable with their fists or their guns, letting actions speak for them. this is familiar, the way the back of one's hand is familiar, and something dangerously like friendship erupts in bright red colors at the back of tetora's mind.

he tacks a note to his memory of hotdog, scribbles "one of the better ones" under his picture, and follows his lead back to the community.

it's been a good trip. ]