fortune finder

fortune. thirty-two. he/they. tier four. points: 605 crimes:

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

Hearing Fortune acknowledge the thing that he himself had been straining against for so long, the way he had felt like Fortune always needed to have the upper hand in their interactions, the uneven way they’d shared information, the way Kaz felt, so often, like if he said one thing wrong Fortune would shut down on him… hearing that said aloud releases a small knot of worry he hadn’t known had long been buried in his chest. 

It isn’t that he feels like he needs control. He’s learned, over the course of his life, that there’s value in giving up control, that sometimes it’s fun to give up control, in all sorts of ways. It’s that everything had felt so unbalanced, especially when he’d finally realized that Fortune had been controlling him, through his luck, in a way he hadn’t wanted, or consented to, or been aware of. It was that, more than the breaking of his trust, that had really rattled him. That Fortune had needed to badly to be in control that he’d been willing to lie for two years about what he’d been doing. That at the end of the day, Kaz had no way of knowing how far the bounds of that control went, and no way to refuse it. 

That, if Fortune was willing to go to those lengths to make himself feel safe, that Kaz had no idea how much further he would go. 

     “Thank you,” he says, after a moment. And it feels too simple, for how much weight is behind it, for how important it feels to hear Fortune admit that out loud. But he’s a bit lost for words, really, after all of this. But he can show how much he means it another way—because that little knot of worry seems to have been the thing that was holding him back from getting any closer, psychically, to Fortune, than circumstances required. 

He shifts up onto his knees, so he’s even with Fortune’s eye line, and reaches forward, careful to avoid the spots along his jaw where the first touches of the purple of bruising are rising to the surface of his skin. Careful to reach out slowly, to give Fortune time to pull away if he wants to, before Kaz rests one hand along the side of his neck, uses the other to brush his hair back from his face. 

     “I think if I knew you felt like you could talk to me, about things like this, I would feel a lot better about it. I don’t… I don’t want to be the sole arbiter of what happens between us, Fortune. I want us to figure it out together.” 

He takes in a sharp inhale when Kaz sits forward, and moves closer to him rather than away. He nods his head subtly when he notices Kaz’s hand reaching out slowly, seemingly hesitant. The touch that soon follows is equal parts torturous and gratifying, he’d grown touch-starved in the months since the last time Kaz touched him in a way even close to this. And he lets some of that desperation leak to the surface as he leans into the touch, nuzzling his cheek against Kaz’s hand momentarily, stopping only when the torture outweighs the satisfaction. 

Kaz tells him he doesn’t want to be the one figuring this out for them, that he wants to do it together- and he takes in another stuttered breath of air at the word. He has to look away for a moment, because he knows he’ll do something stupid if he doesn’t, he needs to break the brief spell he’s under, and remind himself that Kaz wasn’t in the same spot he was in all of this, that he’d only just now crossed the line of touching him in a way outside the clinical manner he’d been doing so far. And as much as he wanted to push that line further, and touch him back, he didn’t feel confident that that touch would be welcomed. There’s really only one way to know for certain of course, and it’s doing precisely what Kaz seemed to be asking him to do.

“What I said in Green’s lab, about how I felt- still felt, I meant that,” he says quietly, his gaze glancing back up to Kaz’s. ”And so I’m trying to be careful... and respect where you are in this, because I know it’s not where I am,” lifting his hand up hesitantly, he brushes Kaz’s arm gently with the pads of his fingertips. 

“I mean, hell...” he laughs weakly, an attempt to lighten the overall mood, “if I was the one driving this thing, I would have asked you to stay here tonight a good twenty minutes ago, so trust me, it’s better that you’re at least the one in the driver’s seat.” 

In the end, he knows what he means though, and knows it’s important that its the two of them that do this. And so he nods his head again, his face falling momentarily before he gives him a weak smile, “I want to figure this out together too.” 

[fortunexfinder]

mcmic​:

It’s still difficult to tell if this is the right choice to offer, to even suggest putting himself into the mix of attempting to fix any of this, or if that might do more harm than good, even if it doesn’t get as far as Hourglass himself. But he’s not sure what else to do. He’s never liked to have to rely on other people, and still he’s more than willing to accept whatever Fortune thinks about this suggestion, even if it means abandoning his involvement entirely now, but he hopes that his willingness to offer aid will be something potentially helpful, given his plethora of powers, having been the one to cause the harm in the first place. Still, Fortune is silent for a moment before answering, and he doesn’t bother letting himself jump to conclusions here, when patience pays off. 

His answer, though, is a surprise. Mimic knows next to nothing about this RESCUE group, and even less about Epoch, even if he has heard the name before. Despite being a member of the Collective, after all, he knows what curiosity over the superhuman community at large does to him, and he’s made himself more than content over the past eight years to focus on amassing the knowledge he has access to here in the vast libraries, and with the vast number of Collective members with various abilities to learn. Which means that he doesn’t know how her time manipulation is different from Hourglass’s, but it’s clear that it is, given her immortality, and a seeming ability to place herself and others outside of time. It’s intriguing as it is dangerous.

Still, he’s not exactly sure what Fortune’s plan is here, and where he fits into it, but he doesn’t take any offense there. If all he’s managed here is to spark an idea in Fortune to help fix the lack of control Hourglass has by calling on another, infinitely more experienced time manipulator, then he thinks that this has been a success. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to suggest he could do anything like that with as much nuance as someone with a century of natural practice, even if he knows he could do what Hourglass does without thinking. There is the danger there, of course, that they manage to undo what Mimic inevitably caused, and Hourglass is still full of enough rage that he doesn’t stop his reign of terror, and more than likely also tries to kill Mimic, as well, but he supposes that’s not his worry to voice. 

The only thing he wants to do here is try to help find a way to undo what he did, even if undoing it doesn’t involve him, in the end. “If this Epoch is the thread you’d like to follow, then that seems like the right first step. It sounds as if she should know more than enough to be able to figure out if help in that way is possible,” Mimic agrees, with a nod. “If you find it’s not, though, I’ll still be here ready to help find another avenue. There are plenty of other abilities open to us.” 

.

His brows furrow in confusion at first, when Mimic begins to speak, because suddenly he’s stopped using “we” and had shifted to “you”, seemingly cutting himself back out of the equation. It’s not until he’s finished speaking, when Fortune realizes he’s misinterpreted what he was trying to convey when he brought up Epoch in the first place. It does give him an out though, he supposes, a way to keep Mimic out of this but still deal with Zander by using a more experienced time manipulator. But he finds, surprisingly, that he doesn’t want to do that. Mimic had come to him as a show of faith, and extended an olive branch to give them both a chance of ending this once and for all, and he doesn’t want to turn him away now that they’re actually talking about the subject they’d been avoiding up until now. 

“No, I think it’s important that you still have a part to play in this,” he replies quietly, looking up to him as he does. “In one way or another, this all started with me and you, and I think I want to finish it together- that is if you want to.” 

A plan is only half forming in his mind, as he tries to figure out just what it is they should do from here, and so he figures he might as well voice what that plan is, and see if Mimic thinks it has any merit. 

“Epoch placed the two of us outside of time, and managed to hold us there for the length of a conversation. If we could get Zander outside of time, I’d imagine he’d have no power there- no random time jumping, nothing that could jeopardize either of us should we try to face him again.” 

He stops his train of thought to gauge whether Mimic thought he was being ridiculous or if just somehow he may be on to something. Taking a breath, he continues, pushing forward regardless of what nonverbal cues Mimic gives him, to finish the half-plan that’d began to take root in his head. “We could have Epoch place us in that place together the next time we run into Zander, or you could gain that power from her and do it yourself.” 

[fortunexfinder]

thecollective-npcs​:

She worries, just slightly, that Fortune Finder might want to hold back from her. Lena has talked to her fair share of people who refused to share the truth, or the full story, no matter how much she insisted that she was trying to help people. The fact of the matter was that a lot of people in the world didn’t trust the ones who were supposed to be the heroes. Part of her blames the Guardians for that, as much as she had loved being one for a brief time. Some of them were wonderful, some of them wanted to change the world for the better – but far too many had been allowed to abuse their power over the years. But Fortune opens up, as reluctant as he may be, and she likes him infinitely more now than when he first sat down.

Zander Dole. He tells a hell of a story – and it’s a sad one, one that makes her distantly ache. Because she can’t imagine losing control of her powers. Her powers have allowed her to live this life, to help as many people as she has over the years. She’s been happy, she’s fallen in love, all because she had perfect control over herself and the way time flowed through her and around her. Zander hadn’t been allowed to have all of that, and had been deprived of it. So she can understand why he’s angry, why he’s furious, why he wants to hurt the people who hurt him. But she doesn’t understand why that would really extend to the Collective. He felt that they had failed him, but surely not every single person could be held responsible for something like that.

“Thank you,” She settles on, after letting the silence linger for a moment. She’s softened, over the explanation. And she leans forward to look at Fortune Finder, to examine his face, to look into his eyes. “That’s a very helpful biography.” 

She watches him for another moment, adjusting her cup of coffee on the table. She allows herself to sound softer as well. “Do you think that Zander is… wholly responsible for these plans? Or would you assume that outside parties are taking advantage of a damaged and heartbroken man, bending the anger into something new? Dr. Judgement seems to be a ringleader here. He’s quite adept at manipulating emotions, isn’t he?” 

While wholly necessary to help them both reach their desired end, it doesn’t make him feel any less comfortable sharing so much with someone he barely knew. He is the world’s worst sharer, he knows, and he’s trying to get better at it, but it doesn’t make the discomfort that settles in him ease any less. But he focuses on Epoch instead, and just where her line of questioning was going to go now that he’d given her something about Zander. 

The question she poses is one he’s considered himself. To be honest, he’s prayed that was what’s happening here, that the Zander he saw on the roof, the one who didn’t seem to think twice about using violence as a method of silencing him into submission, wasn’t just who he was now, but rather the the product of Judgement’s manipulations. It’d make it all easier to swallow, and the thought that one day he might actually be able to help him a little bit more manageable of a task. 

“It would make sense,” he says after a moment, “that Judgement would conflate the anger Zander was already feeling, to manipulate him how he wanted. Zander was never a particularly angry person to begin with, and even though anyone would be angry over a situation like the one he was thrown into, he still acted out of character when I saw him. At least out of character for the person I used to know him to be.” 

Glancing back up to her, he shrugs shoulders, unable to give her anything else than just pure speculation. He waits then, again, for her next question, but suddenly one comes to his own mind as he looks back over to her, and reminds himself just how old she really is compared to him. Lazarus had seemed to be making some headway in their Tartarus hunt, but so far that hunt dealt in a lot of ominous warnings about a man that seemed more myth than reality. But Epoch should know something... he thinks for a second, and it did connect to this mess at the Tower, he supposed. 

“I ran into Doppelganger before the Tower attack,” he starts, “they were the one to first tell me what was going on with Zander. They seemed to think... they seemed to think that finding Tartarus would help put an end to this.” He studies her features for a moment, looking to see what she thought about the name and the man attached to it before he goes on. “Do you think that they were right?” 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

He’s expecting Fortune to answer that he doesn’t have a plan yet, beyond moving out; it seems only reasonable, with how much everything has been shaken up in the past few months, not to mention that—as Fortune had told him the last time they spoke at length—he had already thrown a wrench in Fortune’s original plan, just by being here. By Fortune (and the thought sticks in his head, aching and quiet as it lingers beyond the moment he thinks it) loving him, he’d already thrown off what Fortune had been planning for himself. But it’s how Fortune follows up that thought that catches him off guard. Because he thought they were doing well, here, finally, for once, having a conversation where neither of them was reading eight layers too deep into what the other said and digging up meanings that weren’t really there.

And he feels the immediate need to course correct, here, if somehow that’s the conclusion Fortune’s come to. That Kaz wants him gone sooner, rather than the opposite, that Kaz wishes unfairly that Fortune would linger around long enough for both of them to get their shit together about all of this.

     “What?” he replies, instantly, his gaze snapping up from Fortune’s hand to his face, and thankfully he has the common sense to set the tweezers down so that he doesn’t do any damage in his distraction from the task at hand. His focus is entirely on Fortune, now, the glass in his hand temporarily abandoned, though he doesn’t let go of it, his fingers keeping their loose grip on Fortune’s hand. “No, Fortune— No, absolutely not.”

And he hates it, that what he needs is time, and what Fortune needs is an answer, an answer that Kaz isn’t ready to give him yet. That they’re finding themselves at cross purposes, here, once again, and neither of them is at fault.

And he’s so afraid, of saying the wrong thing. But god, he has to say something. All he can do is hope that it’s enough, for now. That even his half-formed mess of feelings about all of this, set out on the table for everyone to see, is enough for Fortune to understand, to meet him halfway on this.

     “I don’t want you to leave,” he starts, not entirely sure where he’s going to go, or how it’s going to come out. “I mean— if you want to move out, of course you should. I do think it will be good for you. To have somewhere that’s yours, that isn’t haunted the way I know this place is for you. But I’m not… waiting for you to leave. I managed to avoid you for weeks; if that’s what I wanted, I could do it, whether you were here, still, or somewhere else.”

     “But that’s not what I want. I want— I want to forgive you. I want to… figure out who we are, what we are, without any lies holding us up or holding us back. And I think that’s gonna take time. And, you know, I think maybe it will be good, when you move, for us to not see each other every day, I think it will give us both space to figure out what we want. Not just from this, but in general. I don’t know what the answers will be, I don’t know if we’ll like them or not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

For a brief moment, he thinks he’s pushed them backwards again. That whatever progress they had been making here had been washed away the moment he revealed his urge to understand further just what this was they were doing here. He’s just about to apologize, and say nevermind when Kaz places the tweezers down, and tell him they can end this- whatever it is, here for tonight. 

He doesn’t though, because that’s what he would have done before, he would have either shot the topic down as quickly as he opened it, or said something else that wouldn’t involve actually giving Kaz time to work through the rest of what he wanted to say. 

So he sits, and stays quiet, as Kaz starts again, and begins finding his way through what he wants to say. He never wanted a concrete answer here, he didn’t expect Kaz to know precisely what he wanted unless that something was for Fortune to keep himself at bay and let him move on. The answer he does give doesn’t send a spark of hope through him either, but he can work with it. It gives him the permission now to actually seek out Kaz in the future, whenever the urge came up without him forcing himself to wait for Kaz to be the one to reach out first. 

“That’s all I needed to know,” he answers, once he’s soaked in everything Kaz has said. “I don’t... I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. And I don’t trust myself to recognize without it being fully laid out, what boundaries you still need to keep with me.” Kaz was the main driver of where this went from here, he was along simply for the ride, which was what made it challenging for him. Because it meant he needed to be able to strengthen his ability to read this delicate situation between them far better than he’d ever had to do with anything before. 

 “I’m not used to not having control over something, at least not for a while. But that was by design, right. The more control I had, the more comfortable I could let myself be,” he lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair, but keeping his gaze on Kaz as he does. "The night we met, back in the gallery, that’s why I couldn’t go with you, because the moment I no longer had control, I would lose any comfort I had in what was to follow. Even if I was the one to initially seek it out.” He’s not sure if he’s making a mistake, in explaining himself further and just why he needed the further clarification, but he figured since honesty was their policy now, it was probably worth to at least air it out. 

“But I trust you now... more than I have anyone in a long time. And I want you to have complete control over wherever this goes, and so sometimes I might need to stop and check with you where you’re at, that way I don’t misread something, and also to better ease my own mind.” 

[fortunexfinder]

mcmic​:

It’s difficult to tell what the best approach here, if it will make this simpler for both of them if he approaches with the instinct of the sort of scientific curiosity, the clinical demeanor, or if he allows the more personal to bleed into things. He does want Fortune to know, even if it doesn’t change anything, that he has been thinking on things since the events at the Tower, and that his intention here, if he is to even get as far as doing anything at all to help again in this madness, is to undo harm, instead of cause more of it. That, if they do follow this path, at the first moment it seems he’s doing the opposite, he’s willing to step aside again, and do his best to move past things in a different way. Perhaps the answer is a combination of the two.

For now, though, what he does is listen, because it seems that Fortune is at least willing to give him the concrete details of what it is he witnessed in the Tower with Hourglass. He can’t imagine it was a very nice conversation that he had with Hourglass, has to believe the emotions run deep there still, from the very little that he was able to glean about their past relationship from their last talk, but Fortune sticks to the facts, which is a cue that he’s more than willing to follow. 

Mimic frowns as he listens to the explanation, the way time had stuttered, how Hourglass had shifted himself, moving through moments in time. The guilt he had been doing a decent job of pushing past comes up easily with that, hearing how he seemed too old, seemed affected by a terrible illness, before he had ended up back where he should be now, out of his own control. It’s a terrifying thing, power without control, and that is exactly what he wants to find a way to undo, if he could. He’s not sure exactly how it would be possible, knowing what he does now, not so clouded by selfish greed and hunger for knowledge that he could have had so easily. There was no consistency across different brains as to where powers seemed to fire from, and so he’s not precisely sure what he did to Hourglass’s brain to cause the loss of control, but he’s determined to figure it out.

There is, of course, the option that pertains to Fortune’s question. But there are powers that he possesses that he doesn’t use now, having learned enough to know that there are some things that shouldn’t be trifled with. If there was a way to do so safely, though, and it was something that the others wanted him to try, he would be willing to do so, if it could potentially undo the damage done. An issue for the after, of course, is the very real possibility that Hourglass in his right mind would likely want to kill him the moment he saw him. But for now, hypotheticals. 

“No, I haven’t used them much at all. Time is a dangerous thing to treat lightly; I should have realized that from the start,” he admits, tilting his head. “If there were a way to use it to safely undo what I did, though…it would be a consideration, of course. It sounds as if Hourglass’s powers are only going to continue to deteriorate.” And the danger in that is immense.

. 

He still felt extremely uncomfortable, talking to Mimic about anything related to Zander, let alone helping him. But at the same time, he knows that if there was any way for everyone to move forward from this, allowing Mimic to have his own seat at the table during these discussions would likely be the best option to let everyone involved heal from the events from the past. And so he listens hard to what he’s actually saying, batting away any other immediate reactions that come to mind, and giving himself time to fully mull over what Mimic offers before actually responding to him. 

He didn’t think Mimic has used Zander’s powers all that much, given the fact that time manipulation never seemed to be brought up with Mimic’s name at all. He’s not sure if using Zander’s own power on him would help him, but he figures at least starting the discussion of whether it could, would get them somewhere closer to the right answer. 

“Epoch, the superhero with RESCUE that’s interviewing everyone and their third cousin,” he starts after a moment, “she’s a time manipulator. I don’t think her power works exactly as Zander’s, she has managed to stop aging entirely, and when she spoke with me she did something to time I didn’t fully recognize. She did more than pause it, I’ve experienced paused time when Hourglass used to do it, but this was... I don’t know, it felt like she put us outside of time, rather than just stuck within it, if that makes sense.” 

“But we could use her to see if undoing bad time manipulation with more time manipulation is really the route to go here, or if we should approach this differently.” 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

There’s a hint of tension to Fortune’s voice, though it’s impossible to tell whether that’s because of the topic of conversation or because of the pain he’s still in, clearly gritting his teeth every time Kaz brings the tweezers anywhere near his open hand. Either way, Kaz wishes he could say or do something to ease it, but he knows that he can’t. The glass needs to come out, one way or another, before he makes the wounds worse, or before they get infected. And the conversation…

He’s trying not to think about it too hard. Trying to let it be easy, just to talk to Fortune. And it is, surprisingly so, now that they’ve moved beyond one of the several elephants in the room. As easy as it once was—no, easier, maybe, because he always felt a bit like he was walking on eggshells with Fortune. Now, it feels like there’s nothing left to break by stepping wrong; because everything’s already been broken, all there is are pieces to put back together, slowly, one at a time, and pieces to leave behind. 

But he still doesn’t know what he wants those pieces to be. Still doesn’t know how to proceed, from here, what’s even possible. He knows he feels the instinct to joke back, when Fortune jokes about marrying rich—there’s still time, his mind supplies, the joke he would have made in another lifetime, and I am technically still rich. He knows he feels a pang in his chest, at the thought of Fortune leaving the Collective altogether, even if it’s explicitly what Fortune wants, at the thought of cutting off contact with him altogether again. And he knows that even while both of those things are true, he still doesn’t feel like he’s ready to dive head first back into anything like what they used to have.

     “Do you have a new plan, now that you’ve gotten here?” he asks, as he pulls another piece of glass out, making decent headway on the hand he’s currently holding—there are only a few more pieces large enough for him to get out, the other few will probably have to work themselves out over the next few days. “I mean, other than moving out. Do you think you’ll leave, when all of this…” Everything with Hourglass, he means, which still feels far from over. “When all of this is dealt with?” 

He finds himself hoping, a little desperately, that Fortune says no. It doesn’t have to be permanent, it doesn’t have to be forever. But he’d like a little more time. Time to figure things out. To figure out what he wants, and how they might get there. Time for the wounds to finish healing, so they can… what, build something new, maybe? Start again, but this time on stabler ground? Maybe. Maybe he’d like to, to find a way to imagine a future with Fortune that doesn’t feel quite so fraught. 

He grits his teeth through the third extraction, legs clenching together once again where his other hand can’t. He hoped it would be easier as he got used to the pain, but it hasn’t. What has gotten easier though, he’s found, is the conversation, although there’s still this veil he feels keeping him from fully knowing how to act. He doesn’t really know why Kaz is here, why he’s bothering doing this, or why he’s continuing this conversation other than to give them something to do other than sit there awkwardly. He knows what he hopes the reason is, that Kaz wants to try to figure out too just where the two of them go beyond this. But the answer could just as likely be that he feels sorry for him, after what happened on the roof, and he’s doing all of this out of pity. 

The darker voice in his head, is telling him that that’s the only real answer. That of course Kaz wouldn’t be here for any other reason than that. That he didn’t deserve anything else, that he’d already ruined his life enough, and shouldn’t hang around long enough to do any more damage than he already has. Kaz didn’t need to become another Zander....

And fuck, does he need to get out of his head. 

Taking a sharp inhale, he lifts his hand from Kaz’s during the interim between extractions, and stretches and curls his fingers that were growing stiff. He rotates his shoulder a couple times as well, urging the blood the to circulate through his arm again, using the additional motion to help ground himself, before resting his hand back in Kaz’s. 

Once his thoughts are settled, he focuses back in on where the conversation left off. “No, no plan,” he answers, shaking his head subtly as his face twists into a cringe as the tweezers fall on the next piece of glass. 

Once he grits through the first initial pain, he looks up to Kaz briefly, the uncertainty in his motivations still lingering, before shifting his gaze back down to the mess that was his palm. 

“If it would be easier for you... if I left sooner rather than later,” he adds, whisper quiet, “I can do that.” 

And he honestly would. This place meant more to Kaz than it did him, that had always been clear, and it was more important to him to give him what he wants now, if that was what he wanted. 

He’s also aware, to a certain extent, that the events from earlier with Zander, are still clouding his mind, painting everything in the dark shades of his own failures and self hatred. The slippery slope of letting his thoughts spiral is an easy one tonight, but he’s trying this best to keep them reigned in. He can’t help, though, the gnawing urge to know just where exactly he stood when it came to Kaz. He didn’t expect him to know precisely what he wanted, but what he hoped to get was at least some form of direction- should he back away, and finally let Kaz go? Or was the hold he was still trying to keep on this thing something he should at least still keep a grip on for the time being? 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

Fortune’s knees are bonier than he remembers, as Fortune digs them into his side for dear life, and he can’t believe he’s going to end up with more bruises from this than from anything that actually happened in the Tower. And he rolls his eyes a little, mostly fondly, at Fortune’s complaint, because honestly, there are two perfectly good people downstairs trained to take care of shit like this, so Fortune doesn’t have a leg to stand on if he wants to complain about Kaz’s glass-extracting technique. 

He does give him a short break, though, from the pain, as he takes another minute to examine his hand, trying to find a piece that looks like it might be more shallow, less painful to pull out, and settles on one that he thinks won’t be too bad. .

     “I’ll be honest, I haven’t really thought that far ahead,” he admits, to Fortune’s question. There aren’t many Tier Fours and above that stick around, and those that do seem to be the ones who don’t have anywhere else to go—Mimic, who’s like a wanted criminal or something, and Medusa, who is stuck out of time, plus Catalyst who treats the Manor like a frat house she’s the reigning president of. There’s nothing stopping him from finding a place of his own, when he gets that far, nothing tying him here specifically other than Cas, who will probably hit Tier Four before he does anyway. But it’s still years off: Fortune has been here a decade, Kaz has only been here for two years. 

He takes a moment to focus, as he pulls the next piece of glass out, this one thankfully coming out far more easily than the last one. 

     “Shadow started off at Tier Five, you know? The whole legacy of The Shadow Man meant it didn’t make any sense for him to jump back down the ladder. So I didn’t really think about the Tier system when I joined up, and I’ve kind of been along for the ride since then.” 

     “I like it here, but more for the people than for any attachment to the place. So I guess it’ll depend on what everyone else does.”

What Cas does, mostly. What Lazarus does, maybe—which, who knows, might end up being dependent on what Cas does if things with those two keep going the way they seem to be going, their long-standing flirtation having developed into what Kaz can only think of as a weird but kind of nice mutual devotion. He can imagine the two of them both making it to Tier Four and getting some love nest together to move out, and there wouldn’t be much left in the Manor itself with them gone, and Fortune gone… 

     “It’s a long way off, anyway. I’ll probably change my mind a dozen times between now and then.” 

When Kaz settles on the next piece to extract, he grits his teeth, preparing himself for the jolt of pain that will inevitably hit. The second shard he picked, isn’t nearly as nasty of a fucker as the first, but he still finds himself clenching his legs together for dear life, as Kaz slowly works it free. At the very least, Kaz is no longer getting the brunt of his knees, now that he slid forward, instead he’s getting the softer cushioning of his thighs, which makes the experience oddly reminisce of better times, other than the whole sharp stabbing pain shooting through his hand anyway. 

Once it’s finally worked free, he’s better able to focus his attention fully on Kaz’s answers, than only be able to listen to it with divided attention. This was probably the first time the two of them ever really talked about anything related to the future, and what each wanted for themself. The past and the future had always been topics they tended to stay away from, mostly focusing on the present than anything else. But it is difficult to hear Kaz talk about a future he no longer has a part of any more, and that the “everyone else” he speaks of doesn’t include him. 

“It won’t take you as long as it did me, to hit Tier Four,” he answers, pushing past both the dull ache in his chest and sharp ache in his hand as he does. “I only took missions when I had to, so it’s taken me longer than it should have to get here.” 

Preparing for the next extraction, he keeps his hand open for Kaz to inspect, while he sits back up again. His thoughts just as quickly drift back to their conversation though, which he figures is better anyway, than to worry over which piece of glass Kaz was going to pick next. 

“My original plan was to just leave the Collective anyway after hitting Tier Four, maybe pick up a mission here or there for a year, until I found something better. Then again-” he lets out a weak huff of a laugh, “my ‘something better’ was supposed to just marry rich, but unfortunately I think I’m getting too old to be a trophy spouse anymore, so-” 

.

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

He settles down on the floor, Fortune’s knees on either side of him, setting down everything he’s gathered from the bathroom: a wet washcloth and a dry one, antiseptic and neosporin, gauze and bandages, a paper cup to collect the shards in so they don’t end up somewhere they might get stuck back into anybody. It’s not going to be a short process, he imagines, so he makes sure he’s comfortable before he gets started. 

     “If you get a staph infection from this,” he counters, raising an eyebrow up at Fortune, though his tone is light, “it’s your own damn fault for not having the superpowered healer downstairs take care of it for you, you stubborn ass.”

Still, Fortune offers his hand, and Kaz takes it, carefully, turning it over for a moment to get an idea of just how much glass there was, how hard it was going to be to get all of it out. It isn’t good, though thankfully most of it seems to be concentrated in the heel of his palm, his fingers mostly okay save a few spots here and there. And then he gets to work, as gently as he can, starting with the larger pieces towards the bottom of his hand, holding it steady as he works, his fingers bracing the backs of Fortune’s. And he finds it’s easier to listen, when he has something to do with his hands, easier to not feel like he needs to respond to every word Fortune says, that he can take it all in without needing to have an answer to every single thing. 

It makes the news easier, too. That Fortune is leaving the Manor. And he’s always been aware that Fortune was desperate to leave, the second he could, was counting down the days until he got the promotion that finally let him. It feels a little surreal, that after all this waiting and wishing, Kaz had missed that Fortune had even been promoted at all, hadn’t heard the news somehow, hadn’t realized he could move out. That it had all happened in the short weeks between when they last talked and now, in the chaos leading up to the Tower, in the aftermath of their last fight. He’d always sort of ignored how badly Fortune wanted to get out, relying instead on the comfort and convenience of him being just a few doors down, of having him close enough to swing by with coffee in the morning.

But that routine had had its reasons, its context, he’s since realized. It’s one he’d rather leave behind, however things end up between the two of them. And oddly, he thinks that a little distance might be just what they need right now. Not the kind of distance they’ve had, the past few weeks, but a different kind. 

     “That’s great,” he says, after a moment, and finds, strangely, that he means it. “Congratulations. I know how badly you’ve wanted this. It sounds like it’ll be really good for you, to get a space of your own.” 

He pulls the first piece of glass out of Fortune’s hand as he says it, one of the larger pieces, though it was in deeper than he realized when he started trying to extract it. He sets the shard down in a small paper cup, and then starts on the next one, hoping it doesn’t hurt too badly, necessary as it is. 

He grins sharply at Kaz’s response, now this was the kind of bickering he had always enjoyed. This teasing back and forth was part of their natural rapport with each other, which probably did them no favors whatsoever when it came to how much they had been struggling lately, when the quick back and forth hurt the situation rather than helped it.

A couple months ago, he would have made a smart remark on Kaz’s “stubborn ass” comment, saying something along the lines of how he’s always seemed to enjoy his ass just fine before- stubborn or not. That, though, he knows, is far too inappropriate given where they currently stand with one another. So he lets the moment pass instead.

He flinches before the tweezer even touches the glass shard, which he knows reveals just how much of a baby he’ll likely be about this process. He was never good with pain, given the fact he so rarely had to experience it, his overall pain tolerance is fairly low. He knows he has to keep his arm still though, or else he’ll risk making the process all the more teeth grinding, so he makes a point of keeping his arm steady just as the tweezers grab purchase on the first of the bigger pieces.

Kaz’s response helps distract him somewhat from the sharp pain currently running up his arm. He can’t lie, there is a part of him that hoped to see even the smallest bit of remorse over his leaving, but he’s just as glad that he does seem happy for him, and perhaps even understands just why he’s doing it in the first place.

All of those thoughts soon leave him though, once Kaz hits a particularly sensitive spot, as the curved toothed edge of the shard he’d been working out, begins scraping against the tear in his hand as it’s extracted.

“Ah, why did you have to pick this one first,” he grits through his teeth, and because he can’t clench the fist of his other hand, he clenches his knees together, squeezing them firmly against Kaz’s sides until it’s finally worked free.

“You’re a sadist,” he says through heavy breaths once it’s over, still keeping the light edge to his voice from earlier, while shooting him a soft glare.

There are still almost a dozen other shards to go between his two hands, so he prepares himself for the next one. Straightening his posture, he scoots forward so that Kaz wasn’t getting the brunt of his bony knees, but rather the softer padding of his lower thighs for the next one.

“Do you think you’ll stay here?” He finds himself asking next, going off the routine of their last shard extraction by having some form of conversation to keep his mind half distracted. “I mean after you get to Tier Four?”

[fortunexfinder]

thecollective-npcs​:

Fortune continues on with his attitude, with the sigh that escapes from his chest. She can understand, with some kind of sympathy, why he doesn’t want to be here. She probably wouldn’t like it either, if she had been up on that roof and then someone else wanted to question her about it all, about a situation that she had never really asked to be a part of. Fortune wasn’t a rogue, and he hadn’t planned for any of this. But he undeniably held peices of the puzzle. And she was going to get him to hand those peices over, even if it was the last thing that she would do in this town.

She listens with careful attention, soaks up every word, and tries to parse anything that might be hiding behind them. She nods her head at the mention of Mind Master’s injury. It was unfortunate, that he had been shot. He might have managed to do something if he had gotten to the roof. She understood that Lynx had some sort of protection against telepathy, but it was still frustrating for her that he hadn’t gotten into the same room as Hourglass with enough time to read his mind. But she couldn’t blame him for that, when she had the benefit of hindsight and the luck to have no bullets currently embedded in her lung. Daydreamer staying behind to play babysitter for the other villians was another point of contention for her, here. She didn’t understand why they would waste a man who could literally warp reality. But she supposes that she wasn’t there, and didn’t fully know the situation at hand. 

Fortune doesn’t tell her anything that she doesn’t know, but she nods her head regardless. 

“Up, up and away.” She muses, wryly. Lena pauses to take a long sip of her coffee, still perfectly warm. The Phantom Zone was comforting to her now, in a way it didn’t used to be in the earliest days of her powers. She wondered how Fortune Finder felt inside of it. And she licks her lip slightly, a thoughftul movement of her head, as she fixes her gaze back on him. 

“Can you tell me about Hourglass, please? I’m aware of some of the basics. He lost the ability to control his powers. I’d like to know how, and why it’s made him so angry with the rest of the Collective.” 

Her next question surprises him, he thought- perhaps a bit naively, that she’d have already known the cause of all of this. The Guardians seemed to, at least Mind Master did, what with how often he seemed to be inserting himself into every crime that directly involved Zander and Judgement’s plans. With Dimitri gone, and Mind Master still hospitalized somewhere, he supposes Epoch really only had the accounts of the Courtneys to go off of, which can’t have been the most illuminating. 

“His real name is Zander Dole,” he says first, because somehow he felt like that was the most important part in all of this. That everyone else needed to know that underneath the larger than life villain Hourglass has now become, there was still a person in there, who was hurt and angry at the world for that hurt. 

“He first joined the Collective in the spring of 2012, the same time I did. He grew up near Missoula, Montana and was the first in his family to have powers.” He’s oversharing, he knows, which is a rarity for him, but he can’t help but feel that someone needs to tell this part of Hourglass’s story. 

“He was in the Collective for about a year before he was captured by Mimic. At that time Mimic was experimenting on heroes and villains, to try to... I don’t know... understand his own powers I guess. Zander survived the experiment, but it became clear very quickly he no longer had control of his grip on time. He never even came back to the manor after they found him...,” he lets out a sigh, before taking a sip of the coffee in front of him, “he was sent to one of those homes for people with powers they can’t control- or powers that have been deemed too dangerous for the public.” 

He lets his words linger in the air for a moment before continuing on, feeling uncomfortable sharing such details with a stranger, but knowing that for Zander’s sake it had to be done. 

“That’s why he’s angry,” he says finally, “because he felt like everyone at the Collective failed him when he needed us most... Which... we did.” 

[fortunexfinder]

mcmic​:

There’s a moment in which he’s certain Fortune is going to close the door on him, which he was already prepared for in some ways. It’s clear that he was in the middle of something, moving it seems, which makes sense, of course, given the news he had heard recently of his own promotion to Tier Four, but even if he wasn’t, he’s certain he wouldn’t look any happier to see him. He simply waits for that to happen, no need to push the matter if that’s what he’s planning, but instead, Fortune opens the door further, and moves to let him come inside, which he does, doing his best to act as if this isn’t strange, for both of their sakes, no need to make matter even more awkward than they’ll already be.

It’s a tick in the right direction, even if Mimic is still wholly aware that Fortune could shut him down when he brings up what he’s been thinking about, no obligation between them for anything at all. But for now, he works under the assumption that at least Fortune seems willing to hear him out, which is more than he had been anticipating. He follows his gesture, taking a seat in the armchair by the window, as Fortune moves the other back to its place. It’s hard not to try to anticipate what he might say first, but he does his best to be open to anything, or to have to begin himself. And it’s a surprise when he brings up Doppelganger first, instead of anything else, but he’s happy to ease into things, both of them intelligent enough to know how difficult any conversation surrounding Hourglass will be. 

“It seemed that they had already been contemplating it; they weren’t exactly interested in all that Judgement was doing, I think. They just needed a moment of clarity away from his influence, it wasn’t entirely me,” Mimic admits readily. It’s the truth, after all. Doppelganger hated him, had no reason to listen to his logic, but the moment of clarity had seemingly been enough for them to make the choice themself, which was for all of their benefit, when it came down to it. Less villains to fight for Judgement’s perverse plans, and safety provided for them. 

He looks at them, frowning slightly, trying to figure out how to best approach the conversation from there. It seems best not to beat around the bush, and waste either of their time. He would rather know if Fortune’s going to reject his questions entirely sooner rather than later, so that he can figure out how to move on once again with his own life, as it seems Fortune is trying to do as well. “That was the easy part of things,” he says, after a moment. “I heard that your fight wasn’t so simple, either. I’ve been wondering…what state Hourglass was in. Standing face to face with Tempest, even in such a state, it made me…well, I’ve been thinking on my mistakes, if it’s possible to undo any of them.”

.

He knew the subject Mimic was likely there to speak of, was the same subject that brought him to Mimic’s room all those weeks ago, and one that has forcibly bound the two together for better or worse. His mention of Doppelganger was merely a way to ease into the conversation, although he is genuinely relieved Mimic and Grizzly managed to bring them back. Doppelganger was still someone who had helped him get acclimated to the Collective, he wouldn’t call them his mentor, but they were certainly someone he felt at one time he could look to when he needed help.

All of that was part of a past he was trying to take an initiative to move forward from, Mimic’s next words seem to suggest he was of a similar mind- although his method of moving forward was far different than his own. He lets the half-offer hang in the air for a moment, both surprised that it came from Mimic of all people, but also uncertain if involving him was the right thing to do. Zander had been furious at Fortune for the wrong he’d done him, he couldn’t even imagine how he’d react when placed face to face with the person who first started this nightmarish chain reaction.

“He’s lost his control on his handle of time,” he replies, figuring if this was truly something the two of them were going to consider, Mimic should at least know what he’s facing. “When we first saw him on the roof, he looked to be in his eighties. He wasn’t violent, but he seemed to be struggling with some form of dementia.” He honestly isn’t sure which version of Zander he saw was worse- the aged shadow of his former self, whose memory was slipping away, or the second younger version who was fueled by his own anger.

“A few minutes later, time started to.... stutter. It transitioned from day to night, and based on how our surroundings changed, we were jumping back and forth through several decades too. Once it stopped Hourglass was the age he should be now.”

It was still the abridged version of events, with a few personal details removed, but it was more than he gave Epoch. Looking over to Mimic, he chews the inside of his cheek, as he mulls over his next words.

“I’m guessing you have his powers in your... arsenal, so to speak,” he half-asks, although he’s fairly certain he knows the answer. He can’t imagine Mimic did what he did all those years ago, and didn’t walk away with the one thing that lured him to Zander in the first place. “Have you used them much?”

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

Hi bites back his immediate response, as Fortune talks—the urge to remind Fortune that he’s only ever belonged here conditionally. That from his first week in the Collective, he’d been successful here under false pretenses, that he’d done what he’d done only because Fortune’s luck had made it happen. That every mission he’d completed had been a factor of the luck running through him without him even knowing its there. He’s not naive enough to think that the Collective is actually some kind of family, as much as the people he considers to be his family are a part of it; and he’d realized, when the mission to rescue Nightingale had gone so badly, that if he tried to stay without any power to back himself up, he’d only be a liability. 

But he’s determined not to start a fight again. He came here promising himself he wouldn’t. And he can tell how hard Fortune is trying—this is most honest than they’ve been with each other in as long as they’ve known one another, the most Fortune has admitted, or tried to explain himself. That’s what Kaz had asked for: not for Fortune to be right, but for him to be honest. He can see that he’s struggling, that he’s afraid he’ll say something wrong, the way he keeps qualifying what he says. He’s always had a sense that Fortune was unhappy here; that had been clear, when they first met, even if it had seemed to fade away as they spent more time with one another. He hadn’t realized how deep it ran, and a flare of protectiveness grips him, for just a moment, one he knows is completely irrational. 

His own instincts, long established, ingrained in him from a childhood of negligence and a young adulthood of bitter, furious fighting, are giving him two options: to fight, or to run. To explain all the ways that Fortune is wrong, or to write it off completely, to decide that Fortune will never understand and that it isn’t worth the energy trying to make him. To accept that maybe they’re just fundamentally incompatible, despite everything, and that it’s better for both of them if he walks away. 

But he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want either of them. He’s exhausted—tired of running, tired of fighting. And he does understand, that it isn’t Fortune’s fault that they don’t feel the same way, about the Collective, about their powers, about any of it. That different things brought them here, that neither one of them is right or wrong about it. That there are pieces of him Fortune may never actually understand, but that there are just as many pieces of Fortune that he won’t understand, no matter how honest they are with one another.

Caught between fight and flight, trying his best to reject both, he sits for a moment in silence, without responding, trying to settle himself on a third option, trying to find the middle ground. His eyes catch on Fortune’s hand, the way he’s slowly working one of the pieces of glass out, and doing a poor job of it. And he knows Fortune won’t go to Nightingale, won’t go to Jay. He thinks, in some small way, that Fortune’s using the glass as some kind of punishment for himself, some kind of atonement. 

He lets out a sigh and gets up. It’s not fight, it’s not flight. It’s not much, but it’s something to do while to works out what his real third option is: he walks to the bathroom and opens the cabinets, finds whatever first aid supplies are stashed away, a pair of tweezers, wets a washcloth in the sink, and then comes back, settles himself on the floor in front of Fortune’s chair and holds out his hand expectantly. 

     “Here, let me.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything at first, which he reminds himself isn’t the worst possible outcome. He didn’t jump into immediately shoving his mistake in his face again, although for a moment he seems he wants to. He knows that this moment, here and now, is the make it or break it one for them. That if they can’t push past this thing, then it was time to finally free them both from it, to let this thing go that he’d been trying to hold on to for so long, and let them figure out who they were without one another. He can’t do this any longer anyway, he realizes, his exhaustion was now running marrow deep, and there was nothing else he thinks he could possibly give him. 

He’d laid his cards out on the table, not to try to prove he was somehow the winner in all of this, but rather to simply let Kaz see where he was coming from, just as Kaz had done himself. There was no winning in this situation, there was only losing, which they both had to find out the hard way the last time they tried to talk about what had passed between them. The hardest fucking part of it all though, was that he still loved him, even now after everything else that had happened, he’s looking over to Kaz, hoping that perhaps finally that they found some kind of middle ground. That instead of trying to convince one another of seeing things their way, they can simply agree that this subject will always be one they’ll differ on, and that simply respecting the other’s opinion and why they came to it, was the best they could do. 

But then Kaz gets up, and suddenly he feels him slipping through his hands again. He doesn’t call back to him, not like he did before, instead he lets him go, as he slips back into his chair, and closes his eyes. No sooner than his eyes are closed though does he hear a click of a door, but its not the heavy door that led from his room to the hall though- but rather the less solid door that led to the bathroom. He sits up, brow furrowing in confusion as he watches his bathroom door, hearing Kaz rummage through his medicine cabinet before the sink turns on. When he reappears, he has a pair of tweezers and a wet washcloth in his hand, and he’s hit with the dueling emotions of feeling both over the moon that Kaz for now was opting to stay, but dreading having to sit there while he painstakingly picked glass shards out of his hand. 

When Kaz settles himself on the floor in front of him, he eyes him skeptically, although his skepticism has the hint of a tease to it, as he slowly shifts forward in his chair, his knees framing either side of Kaz’s side. 

“If I get a staph infection from this, you’re paying my insurance copay,” he says after a beat, and again theirs a hint of a tease to his usual dry tone- although it’s still weak from the weight of everything else that happened that night bearing down on it. 

Resting his hand gently into Kaz’s, and opting to ignore the small trail of goosebumps the touch brings about, he waits for the first shoot of pain to run up his arm as he picks out the first of many shards. He figures he should say something, if anything to somewhat take his mind off of what Kaz was about to start doing. He’s unsure of what though, not wanting to throw them back into a conversation they both clearly were exhausted by. 

“I told White I’m moving out at the end of the month,” he says quietly after a moment, figuring talking about the future might help, instead of the past. The topic of his move also had the additional purpose of helping them figure out just where to go from here, because this thing between them, should they try to wade back into it, would be different with him out of the manor. Granted, he knows it needed to be different, should they ever want to try it again, but it will be far less convenient- which could be good or bad. A mutual attraction and the convenience of being down the hall from one another, was what started this thing, so it may be beneficial to see what they were when they no longer had that convenience.

 “I plan on sticking around the Stowe area, but figured it was time I finally got out of here now that I’m able,” he adds, his face twisting into a half wince as he prepares for the first shard to get pulled out. 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

Fortune listens to him without interrupting, without trying to contradict him, or argue, and so when Fortune finally does start to speak, Kaz figures he owes Fortune the same. He has to tamp down the instinct to respond, to talk back, has to suppress the urge to stop listening and start thinking about how he might respond, planning the next words out of his mouth. But it’s easier than he thinks it will be, once Fortune starts. He doesn’t know much at all about who Fortune was before the Collective, doesn’t know anything about who Fortune was before he was Fortune, before Tweed and the Rabbits, before his luck got the better of him and got him trapped. So he’s surprised to hear that that’s where Fortune starts. 

And he can’t help the ache that blooms in his chest, when Fortune begins to talk about how happy he was—even though he knows how the story ends, even though he knows where that carefree happiness got him—but he can make himself move beyond it, can make himself keep his focus on Fortune instead of the lingering hurt, the long-familiar ache of want that moments like this make him worry like a loose tooth. 

He doesn’t understand, at first, why that’s what Fortune has chosen to say, especially when he shifts the conversation swiftly back to Hourglass, back to what happened on the roof. It feels so much like they’re having two separate conversations, that even now when they’ve stopped talking over each other, they’re still talking past one another somehow, unable to come to a point in the middle where things start to make sense. But after a moment, he thinks he gets it. And he hopes that, even if there are things they might never agree about, that he can get them to see eye to eye on this.

     “He didn’t hurt me, Fortune,” he says, finally sitting down in the armchair, because it’s the easiest way to move closer to him without actually going to him, and Kaz still isn’t entirely sure how he feels, in some respects. Fortune had said, the last time they talked, that Kaz should come to him when he was ready to talk. And he is. But he’s still piecing together the rest of it—what talking means, for them, what trust has been broken. He cares about Fortune, that part has always been undeniably true, and seeing him with Hourglass on the roof had only cemented how true it was, how there was no world in which it wasn’t. But there’s a lot of ground left to cover before he’s ready to go back to what they used to be. Or, maybe that isn’t it: he doesn’t think they can ever go back to what they used to be. But it might be a slow road towards finding something new in its place. 

     “I wish I could have stopped him, of course I do. But I’m not an idiot. I’m not— naive, even though I know people think I am. I never thought that having powers would fix everything, I never thought they wouldn’t come with their own set of complications. And believe me, they have, in ways that have nothing to do with Hourglass, or Parasite, or Fearmonger, or any of it. I never wanted them because I thought they would fix everything, or make me powerful, or stop me from feeling helpless sometimes.” 

He realizes, as he’s saying it, that he’s never fully articulated this thought before. Not even in his own head. And he thinks, distantly, that maybe that’s because it’s easier, to act like he wants power, that he has ambitions, that he’d like to reach out and shape the world into something that he’s touched, than it is to admit how much of him is still covered in the frayed nerves of a parentless child.

     “It matters to me that I belong here,” he explains, and he doesn’t let himself look away from Fortune this time, as much as he wants to. When he’d realized he could be someone other than Roxana’s son, when he realized he could be Shadow’s, he hadn’t understood that he was choosing a world that could never really be his, that he was setting himself up for an entirely different kind of insecurity. And he knows Shadow loves him, that isn’t the question. But it’s so easy, in a place where Shadow had been a legacy from the moment he walked through its doors, to be afraid that he isn’t enough. “Losing this— losing the Collective, that’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what I felt, that day, when Shadow and I tried to rescue Nightingale. That’s what Fearmonger showed me. Not being helpless, being alone. This is where everyone who matters to me is. If I don’t belong here, if I’m not good enough to be here… then what if that means I’m not good enough for them, either?” 

He worries for a moment, that his reasoning behind the words he’s said, didn’t come across clearly enough. Which he’d wouldn’t blame Kaz at all if they hadn’t, he was purposefully being extremely cautious with his words, afraid he may inadvertently make a misstep that’d send them ten steps backward once again. This kind of talking never came natural to him, and so he knows it’s going to take him some time to figure out the best way to get his thoughts across how he wants, or to respond to Kaz’s in a way that’s more productive than his previous attempts. 

He nearly opens his mouth, to explain himself further, but mercifully Kaz starts talking again. The subject is still one that placed the two of them in the murky waters that was Kaz’s powers, but as he speaks he feels like he’s finally getting a better idea just why they never seemed to find stable ground before when the subject had come up. Because he knew that Kaz had insecurities linked to not having powers, but just what exactly was the root cause of those insecurities had always been a vague notion he never fully understood. 

“You do though- belong here, I mean,” he says, as he attempts to be more direct in his reply this time. He keeps eye contact with Kaz now, just as Kaz had, going off his lead on how to approach this. He’s still anxious as all hell that he’ll somehow mess this up, and so to keep his mind half preoccupied so it won’t obsess too much on the worry that’s gnawing at him, he moves his one hand to the palm of the other, and begins to slowly tease out one of the easier fragments of glass to work free. 

“I’ve been here ten years now, and you and Cas have been the only two people I speak to on any form of regular basis. But you...”, he smiles weakly, his fondness for him slipping through, “you’ve been here a fifth of that time, and have engrained yourself into this place far more than I have. The people that care for you- the people that matter, you’re good enough for them no matter if you do or don’t have powers. You were always good enough for me.... and I’m sorry-” he breaks off, worried he might be overstepping again, but decides to trudge forward anyway, “that I didn’t do a better job of showing that before.” 

He falls silent again for a moment, his hand still worrying out the same piece of glass slowly that he started on. His thoughts are elsewhere though as he adds quietly, “But I think though... that’s why I always struggled trying to understand your need when it came to powers. Partially because of how my own had failed me, but also because I don’t see this place like you do. I’m not happy here... this isn’t a home to me.... You helped pacify that unhappiness, and it wasn’t until you were gone when I realized how it was still there.” 

He’d come to the manor as a refuge, a place for him to heal after his time with Tweed, before he’d move on to greener pastures. But everything that happened with Zander had stunted the progress, and the manor soon became another prison, this time a self-sentenced one rather than the refuge it once was.

“And I’m not blaming you for that or anything,” he adds quickly, worried suddenly that his words might be taken that way. “Or am trying to undermine how you feel about this place....” he shakes his head, because he’s feels like he’s failing at this, that he was one misspoken word away from Kaz getting upset with him and leaving again. 

“As shocking a notion as it is- I’ve never been good at this,” he confesses with a sigh, half caught between laughing and crying. “And it’s going to take me some time before I’m even half decent at this.” So please be patient with me.... his eyes implore, as he looks back over to him. 

[fortunexfinder]

thecollective-npcs​:

She isn’t sure what to make of Fortune Finder, when she first sees him. She hasn’t paid much attention to their career, the way she would some of the other heroes and villians that were on the rise over the year. There were a few members of the Collective who had potential, when it came to her specific brand of life-saving. And Epoch didn’t mind people’s past, or what they did in their spare time. She had her eye on the other big player in this Tower disaster, and on a couple of the ex-Teen Terrors that had joined the Collective over the years. Surprisingly, she didn’t see much potential in the Guardians. But then again, she shouldn’t really be shocked by that. 

Fortune Finder was nothing all that special, as far as she could tell. Good luck was handy, but nothing like what stood out to her these days. But he was clearly connected to what was going on, in some way shape or form. He was connected to the villians. He was on the top of the tower. He had peices of this story that had not yet been passed along to Epoch. 

And she didn’t particularly care of he was uncomfortable, in this space outside of time. But people being at ease usually meant that they would do more, say more, let more past the surface. She was good at reading people, after all this time. So she smiles, despite herself, at his little joike, shows that she can play ball just as well as anybody else. “Footsie isn’t my style. At least not during the first interrogation.” She allows, with a grin and a wink. “Let’s see how this develops, and maybe I’ll change my mind.” 

She considers it, his sigh, the way he sips his coffee. The two optoons for where they ould start this very important conversation. 

“Let’s start at the beginning.” She decides, her calm aura permiating the air around them. Where his confidence and boredom is obviously feigned, and poorly, hers was genuine through and through.” “Feel free to go as slowly as you need, Fortune Finder. Don’t spare any details. We have all the time in the world.” 

He had been hoping, when he’d been trying to prepare himself for whatever this meeting would turn out to be, that Epoch would settle with asking him direct questions. That he wouldn’t be left to decide just how precisely he would describe the entire scene that unfolded on the roof, but rather he could make small decisions as each question was asked. That doesn’t seem to be the case though, unfortunately, as Epoch asks him to start from the beginning- which Christ, the definition of “the beginning” was a rather vague one in terms of anything involving Hourglass. 

For his own sake, he chooses to decide to define the beginning as what first brought him to the roof in the first place. “Well, obviously you know what happened to Mind Master,” he begins with a sigh. “He was the one who told me that Hourglass had Dimitri and that they were heading towards the roof. I left my partner with Mind Master, as I headed in that direction- which was where I then encountered Daydreamer, Nightingale, and Firebrand. Given Nightingale’s skillset, the decision was quickly made that they were to go with Daydreamer to help Mind Master, while Firebrand then decided to go with me.” 

He’s leaving out a lot of the fine details, he knows that, he’s going for the simple statement of facts, and leaving out some of the messier bits- such as why Firebrand went with him, and why he made the decision to hunt down Hourglass. But if she wanted to know more, he figures she’ll likely ask him anyway. 

“When we made it to the roof, Parasite and Hourglass were carrying Dimitri to a helicopter that I would assume they used to get to the Tower in the first place. Firebrand and I had a brief altercation with Hourglass, and tried to stop him from taking Dimitri- but obviously we failed. And then Hourglass and Parasite escaped with Dimtiri in the helicopter. I couldn’t tell you what direction they went, unfortunately.” 

He stops his story there, because sees no point in detailing his and Kaz’s exit from the roof. Looking to her, he steels himself for her next question, knowing it likely won’t be one he’ll enjoy trying to answer. 

[fortunexfinder]

mcmic​:

several days after the tower, fortune’s room ( @fortunexfinder​. )

Even a few days removed from the events in Guardian Tower, it’s difficult to keep his thoughts from straying back to standing face to face with Tempest, that familiar feeling of wishing there was something he could have done to change their fate, and the others, that familiar feeling of knowing there’s nothing to be done now. It’s a feeling that he experienced much more intensely during his first year in the Collective. He had kept to himself even more so back then, of course, with the wounds so fresh, and his own grappling with what he had done, the consequences of those actions, the pain he sowed, still not settled into something closer to acceptance. Guilt isn’t the word he would use for what he felt back then. No, he was much too proud, still young and convinced that in some ways it was justified, because he hadn’t know any differently before then. That had changed quickly, of course, thanks, in part, to the conditions of his acceptance into the Collective. He had had to accept responsibility to figure out how to keep living, even in this comfortable, self-appointed prison. 

And so he had.

Over the past eight years, he had accepted that responsibility, accepted the damage he had done, the pain inflicted on his victims and those around them, alike, because of his own selfishness. It wouldn’t have been possible for him to keep living if he hadn’t found his own way to move on from it, while also acknowledging that it couldn’t be expected that others would, as much as he wished that they would, at least those who weren’t directly affected, anyway.

That’s why it feels like this, he thinks. He had been so deeply past that part of his life, that it was jarring for it all to be thrown back in his face in the form of coming face to face with Tempest, and having to choose not to hurt them, this time. He keeps going over what he had said to them ultimately, that he would undo the damage done if he could. And he realizes that perhaps he can in some small way, if those around him want him to. 

There’s no taking back what he did to Tempest––he doesn’t think necromancy is the answer, not something fair when they can’t choose themself––but they aren’t the only one who’s name has come up recently whom he hurt. Which is how he finds himself standing outside of Fortune Finder’s door, steeling himself to the welcome he knows he’ll receive, prepared to accept the rightful venom, to get a clearer picture of things, to figure out if he might be able to help, even if it’s rejected. He won’t be hurt if it is, he’ll accept it without a fight, knowing it might not be his place, considering he’s the one who did the harm, but he has to offer to try, at least.

So he knocks on the door, and momentarily Fortune opens it. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, knowing nothing about this is pleasant for Fortune. “I’ll understand if you have no desire to speak to me, but I was hoping you might be willing to humor me for a few minutes,” he explains. “It’s about Hourglass.”

.

The days following the Tower attack, he spends largely tucked away in his room, and nursing his wounds- both physical and the ones that are less so. His hands, now glass free, are still wrapped up in bandages to prevent infection, and the small series of bruises that had lined either side of his jaw, were now yellowing and slowly fading away. Having failed his own half of the mission, while everyone else had largely succeeded in their own, he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. Lazarus had been able to pick up and run with their Tartarus search, which somehow now involved ghost hunting in the attic, and so his side of things had quieted down there. 

What he ends up doing to pass the time is packing, because if there’s one thing he did take away from the entire nightmare that was his experience on the Tower’s roof, was how much he needed to put this all behind him in a way that didn’t involve him hiding away in his room. He was a Tier Four now, a promotion he’d been desperately wanting until Kaz came along and gave him a reason to stay in the manor. And while things on the Kaz front had settled down, he feels like he still needs to put some distance between him and the manor- not a lot of distance, but enough so that he doesn’t feel like he’s trapped in the past, and stuck in a life that has seemed to have stagnated in the last few years.  

And so that’s what he’s doing that afternoon, shortly before the knock sounds on his door- packing. His television is turned down low, an old episode of Bake-Off playing, while he’s balancing on one of his armchairs, clearing off the top shelf of his closet. The knock doesn’t surprise him, because he’d just texted Jay, asking if he could bring him some trash bags for a Goodwill pile he was going to need to start soon. 

The moment he opens the door though, it’s not Jay’s face that greets him, but rather Mimic’s- although he wouldn’t necessarily use the word “greets” as a way to describe the words that soon come out of his mouth. He really considers simply shutting the door on him, because he’s not in the mood for whatever in the hell Mimic felt like he needed to get off his chest with him. But he finds himself opening the door further instead, and steps aside to let Mimic come in. He’s not entirely sure why he does it, given how ready he was to put it all behind him, but he thinks he probably should at least attempt to put this thing with Mimic behind him too. 

After closing the door, he motions Mimic to sit in the armchair that was ordinarily his, which still sat by the window, as he pushes Kaz’s back to its original spot from where he’d been using it as a step stool. 

“I heard...”, he starts, because he feels like he should probably say something now that he’s let him in his room. “that you managed to bring Doppelganger back. I’m glad you were able to convince them to leave.” He nearly brings up Tempest, but he chooses not to in that moment, not really wanting to dig up that particular part of the past, especially since by the sounds of it, they were about to head towards another. 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​: 

He almost says something, when Fortune refuses to listen on the matter of his hands, which clearly need medical attention. It’s instinct, the don’t be stupid that nearly makes its way out of him, the urge to argue, but he manages to refrain. Not now, this isn’t the time for arguing. Not after everything they’ve both already been through in the past twelve hours. And that thought only grows stronger as Fortune keeps talking, because he’s not going to start an argument when Fortune is actually talking about what happened. They can deal with his hands later; for now, he just wants to make sure Fortune doesn’t shut down again.

So he makes his way over to the other chair, across from him. Doesn’t sit down, quite yet, but leans his elbows down on the back of it, as he listens. As Fortune asks him how he is. And as tempting as it is to say I’m fine and turn the question back on him, he knows he shouldn’t do that, either. 

     “I’m…” he starts, not really sure what’s going to come out when he lets himself start talking. “Not exactly alright. I will be, but right now I’m frustrated. I should have been able to stop him, before he froze time, and I’m not entirely sure why I couldn’t. If it was Fearmonger, or Parasite, or something else…”

He finds himself looking down at his hands, as he talks, having trouble bringing himself to look back at Fortune. It’s easier to talk, this way, he thinks. To be honest, after so many difficult, impossibly conversations in a row. 

     “He might be the only one to blame for his actions, but that doesn’t make me feel any less helpless. Doesn’t make it feel any easier. And seeing you— seeing the way he talked to you… I should have been able to stop that. I’m not really sure what the point of having these powers is, if it means still having to watch him hurt you.” 

He looks back up, finally, at Fortune, meets his gaze. Finds it easier to keep talking, now that he’s started, finds the thoughts and feelings that have been swirling around in his head clicking into place as he speaks them. 

      “I don’t care that we failed. I thought I would, but I don’t. Maybe we never stood a chance at stopping Hourglass, maybe it was already too late by the time we got up there. But you shouldn’t have had to endure that, on the off chance that we might have. Whether or not you deserve his anger, you don’t deserve his cruelty.”

He makes a point to focus all of his attention on Kaz, from the words he says, to how he’s holding himself. He’s not worrying about what the best response is here, because it seems like the most important thing to do is listen. Which was never a strength of his, when his own thoughts so often drowned out the words of others. Now though, it’s not as difficult as he’d thought it’d be, not when it’d been so long since the last time they even spoke to one another. 

Once the room falls silent again, he remains quiet for a moment, as Kaz’s words sink in. The topic of Kaz’s powers, or lack there of, had always been a difficult one for them to discuss, given their differing views on them. But this really wasn’t a discussion per say, he reminds himself, more so the act of the two of them unloading their truths. And so he picks a truth that reveals a little more about how much he can relate to the frustration Kaz seems to be feeling, and in return give him some of the past he hadn’t realized until recently that Kaz had been so desperate to know. 

“Before I had my luck, I wasn’t anything exceptional at all. Just some unimportant kid, from an unimportant family. Neither of my parents had powers, nor my sister. My grandmother could manipulate two-dimensional images with her mind- but she was the only one with powers before me.” He pauses for a moment, before continuing, as he thinks briefly of the older woman, and the way she used to make the pictures in storybooks move whenever she read to him and his sister. She had to hide her powers for the majority of her life, due to the stigma and strict government regulations that once came with them, and even after those laws were long abandoned, she hid that beautiful gift of her’s from the world, showing it only to those closest to her. 

“When I did realize her gift had somehow made it’s way to me, but manifested in a different way, I was over the moon. Suddenly I was special, suddenly I could do whatever I wanted, and get whatever I wanted, without ever having to worry about the consequences. Because as long as I was lucky, there never would be any consequences.” He keeps his gaze away from Kaz as he continues, because he finds it easier to focus on his own words, than to start to worry if Kaz may be misinterpreting his intent in saying them. 

“I started saving up for the moment I could move away. And once I had enough, that was when I moved to Vegas. Because where else would a twenty-one year old go with infinite luck on his side, you know?” He huffs a laugh briefly, before his face falls again, because they both know just what- or who he eventually found in Vegas. “I was so mad at my luck for betraying me like that, it used to be my best friend in the world, my ticket to any life I wanted for myself, and suddenly it wasn’t mine any more to help me.” 

Letting out a long sigh, sinks deeper into the chair, resting his head against its back before finally looking over to Kaz. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, before adding, “that you had to go through that. And I know that what happened wasn’t my fault, but that doesn’t make me any less sorry.” There are a million other apologies that linger on his tongue as he looks over to Kaz, but he holds on to them for now, not wanting to push them back into the mess that his past mistakes had made between them. 

“In that nightmare of mine he was hurting you, so I can only imagine what the real thing felt like.” 

[fortunexfinder]

thecollective-npcs​:

( the cafe in the town near the manor, a few days after the tower attack / @fortunexfinder​ ) 

She could have met Fortune Finder at her own headquarters, the house in the mountains, just like she had with Catalyst. But Fortune Finder, she imagined, would be a different kind of case. She didn’t know what made him special, but there was something about him that set him apart on her mind. Something that made her wary of leading him into her home, around the people she trusted the most in the entire world. 

It was something about Hourglass. She didn’t know the details. But Fortune Finder had faced Hourglass on the roof of the Tower, and survived it, and allowed the man to walk away with Dimitri in his custody. It made her suspicious. So she wouldn’t allow him into her base while he was still an unknown factor. 

She knew more than anyone, possibly, how dangerous Hourglass could be. The stakes were different, when you started messing with time. And when you lost control, they only ramped up higher and higher. Epoch had always prided herself on her own control, the steadfast hold she had on it. The way she could bring herself in and out of sync with the passage of time. That was why she had only aged a few years, in the nearly 100 since she was first established. 

So she meets Fortune Finder on semi-neutral ground. But oh, oh so close to home. His home, she supposed. But it would always be hers too, by right of blood. She didn’t feel the need to flaunt the fact that she knew exactly where the Manor stood. She didn’t want to make them feel threatened by showing up at their door –– and she thinks it would hurt too much, to see it rise up in front of her. That was her family’s home, so long ago. The estate of a beloved Uncle. And then it had been her sisters domain, before it passed to her husband. So she picked the town instead, nearby. Middle ground. 

She’s waiting there for him, in the quiet cafe. With two steaming cups of coffee laid out in front of them. And she’s perfectly calm when he walks in, when he joins her at the table. She smiles at him in welcome, and under the table bumps her boot against his own shoes, the contact just enough to take them both out of the slip of time and into the Phantom version of the cafe around them. 

“I think this might be better, don’t you? It’s the best way I’ve found to ensure the utmost privacy, when discussing delicate matters.” She greets, not wasting time with any pleasantries. “And it keeps the coffee hot for as long as we might need.” 

“Now, shall we begin?” 

Once he heard that the Guardians had made the decision to pass along the hunt for Dimitri to someone “out of house”, he knew it’d only be time for that person to come calling on his door. He and Kaz were the last to see Dimitri alive outside Hourglass and the others, and given the rumors he’s certain that have been making their rounds regarding just how well he used to know Hourglass, he figured it would only be a matter of time before he’d get pulled into the investigation. 

The fact that its Epoch of all people investigating this, is almost laughable. Because it’s clear as day just why she out of anyone else was chosen to nip this issue in the bud. The Collective and Guardians both had a problem on their hands in the form of an out of control time manipulator- so why not call in the cavalry in the form of the oldest living time manipulator around? 

When he reaches the cafe that afternoon, he’s hidden Hourglass’s parting gift to him with some concealer, preferring to keep that aspect of his run-in with his old flame private. When he slips into the chair across from the centenarian who looked younger than him, he’s the picture of confidence, despite the anxiety that was bubbling deeper inside him, at the thought of having to answer questions about the night that he wished never to think on again. 

Once he feels the shift in the standard flow of time, he grits his teeth through the discomfort of once again finding himself at the mercy of a time manipulator. 

“Hm, and here I was thinking you just wanted to play footsie,” he replies dryly, making sure his discomfort wasn’t palatable. He was well practiced in pretending he didn’t care about things enough, he’s certain he can manage it for however long this conversation was supposed to last. 

“But sure, let’s get started,” he sighs, feigning boredom, before taking a sip of the coffee that was sitting in front of him. “Do you want me to just start at the beginning or would your prefer the abridged version?” 

[fortunexfinder]

firebrcnd​:

He steps inside as soon as Fortune lets him, moving back into the familiar room for the first time in what feels like ages. And he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself, torn between the instinct to make himself comfortable and the weirdness of the situation. Torn between reaching out a comforting hand to Fortune and giving him the space he probably wants right now. So he stays sort of suspended between the two, taking a few steps into the room beyond where Fortune is standing.

     “Everyone’s fine,” he confirms, with a nod. “A few injuries, but nothing Nightingale can’t take care of. We’ll know about Mind Master in a few hours, probably. Everyone else made it out alright.” 

He stops there, not wanting to venture into any further details. Not wanting to say everyone else got their Guardian out in one piece, because it isn’t Fortune’s fault, that Hourglass had gotten away with Dimitri. It isn’t either of their faults. It isn’t anyone’s fault but Hourglass, and maybe Dr. Judgement, and there’s no point in feeling guilty over it when they’d done the best they could given the thoroughly fucked up situation they’d been thrust into, not to mention the mess Hyde had apparently made of it. 

At a loss for anything else to say, he takes a moment to take in Fortune’s appearance. He’s showered, which is something Kaz still desperately needs to do, though he’d changed out of his suit as soon as he’d had a spare moment. But it’s hard not to notice the marks across his jaw, and harder not to notice that, while his hands and arms are no longer covered in blood, all that’s done is made it easier to see how hurt they are, red and raw, still littered with glass. 

     “Nightingale and Jay are working downstairs, now, to patch up any remaining injuries,” he says, less a fact and more of a suggestion. “You should get one of them to take a look at your hands when you get the chance.” 

There’s no version of the question are you okay? that he can figure out how to ask him, right now. Nothing that doesn’t feel helplessly stupid, because he can see that Fortune isn’t okay. And of course he’s not, after what Kaz had seen on the roof, not to mention whatever had happened in the nightmare Fearmonger had conjured for him prior to that, that had left him rattled to begin with. But he also knows that Fortune isn’t going to tell anyone else what happened. That if Kaz doesn’t address it, he’s just going to bottle it up and keep going as if it didn’t matter. 

A weird sort of tension settles in the room, once Kaz slips inside. He’s not sure what to do with himself, and he can tell Kaz is struggling with a similar problem, as he carefully answers his question, being mindful of the minefield such a question posed. He feels like he should do something to break the tension, this was his room after all, and Kaz was the one that made the first move in coming there in the first place. He’s clueless as to what to say though, so instead he moves towards the pair of chairs they both usually occupied when Kaz was in his room, figuring sitting was better than just standing there and staring at one another awkwardly. 

Settling into his seat, he looks at his hands only briefly afterwards, once Kaz speaks again. He figured the suggestion was coming, considering how he’d clearly not gone to either yet, but that didn’t stop his face from twisting in distaste at the thought. He’d always hated doctors, he hadn’t been to one since he was a kid, and thankfully he hadn’t a reason to ever since, considering his luck. In addition to his general distaste for examinations, he also just really didn’t want to have either Jay or Nightingale look him over, and have to answer the questions they’d no doubt would ask about just how he got his numerous injuries. 

“I was just going to clean them out myself,” he shrugs, hoping it’d be the end of the discussion. He moves to pull the sleeves of his robe down to cover the injuries, but realizes a second too late, that the sleeves on it were short. He rolls his eyes as his fingers slip through the fabric above his elbow, before moving his attention back to Kaz. 

They probably really should talk about what happened on the roof, he thinks grimly as he looks back up to him, seeing how much he seems to want to. And he realizes it wasn’t fair not to- because seeing that shit isn’t great, he knows. And as traumatizing as his half of what happened was, he recognizes he wasn’t the only one suffering on that roof when Hourglass froze time. 

“You didn’t need to apologize. Back on the roof, I mean...” he says finally, figuring if he was going to attempt to open up, he should at least start with where they’d last left off. It’s still fucking hard as hell to try to talk about it though, when every impulse he has is screaming at him to shut the fuck up about it, and shove down every thought he had about that night. 

“He knew what he was doing, when he did that,” he sighs. “He’s all destruction now, there wasn’t anything either of us could do once he made up his mind.” 

He needed to listen to his own damn advice, he knew. It was easy to fall into the old routine of being mad at himself for this, but he knows deep down, even if he managed to fight Hourglass back, the result would always be the same. 

“Are you alright?” He asks after a beat, rephrasing the question he first asked Kaz.