Malice Aforethought: Monday Afternoon

[x-forge.livejournal.com]

WHO: Forge, Malice
WHERE: Salem Center Mall
WHAT:
While out shopping to try and think about anything other than his personal issues, Forge runs into the mansion's latest expatriate. Their talk is horrifyingly civil, and they leave together calmly.





Forge scrolled through his PDA's latest list of inventory necessities, checking and categorizing while waiting in line at the ATM. Again and again, he went over the list of parts. The rote repetition of data and the million ways his brain could come up with the different things to do with assorted electronics helped distract him from thinking about anything else. Anything personal.

Automatic external defibrillators? Hmm, would have to be mail-ordered from the medical catalog. Fiber optic cable? Best to buy in bulk from the manufacturer. Low-resistance single-substrate capacitors? Ah, there was the trick. Bought from the manufacturers overseas, horrendously expensive, not to mention the outrageous import tariffs.

But take the proper array of multiple-substrate capacitors, and you could reverse-engineer the more efficient single-substrate ones, and save close to 90% of cost. And the most common source of multiple-substrate capacitors?

Forge looked down at the two shopping bags filled to the brim with the dull grey rectangles, and smiled. He'd managed to completely clean out both video game stores in the mall of their copies of late-1980s cartridge games. Mostly manufactured in the Far East, they used multiple-substrate capacitors in their firmware. After a decade and a half, though, the price of a video game for a dead system had actually dropped below the cost of the parts used in its construction.

"And they say video games rot your brain," Forge muttered to himself, pocketing his cash and lugging his bags over to a nearby bench to continue his shopping list. Eventually he knew he'd have to go home, but not just yet. Still work to do.

The bench was only his alone for a moment. Shortly after he'd set his bags down, someone dropped down next to them, tossing a brown leather jacket atop them. "Are you trying to start a classic games revival? Because I hate to tell you but Excite Bike is dead. It's all about the flash and graphics these days." She waited until he looked up at her. "Hi."

"Don't knock the classics, they're ... still..." Forge turned to face the woman, and his voice caught in his throat. A scarf could hide the hair, but the eyebrows would have given her away in an instant.

"...viable. Lorna." Forge's mouth moved, as his brain raced. Warning bells went off in his brain - Mr. Summers' exhorations to stay away from her, to call someone immediately, to get help and more importantly, that she was dangerous.

He'd said the same thing about Mr. Wisdom, who'd murdered Manuel's father. In the back of his mind, Forge wondered just who Lorna had killed to get the same treatment. And a smaller part wondered if it might just be him.

Eyes flickering down to his PDA, he moved his thumb to give the command that would send an emergency signal straight to the mansion. But the screen was a dull blob of black, liquid crystal streaking the surface. The tingle in his hand told him enough. Magnetized.

Well, shit.

"Please don't do that," she said with a regretful, little smile. "I need your help and bringing them screaming down on me will just make things worse. I don't know what they're telling you but it's…they just don't understand." She reached out and took the PDA away from him. "My father would like to meet you."

Forge stopped cold, an odd feeling of dread rising like bile in his throat. "Lorna," he said softly, "they spoke to your parents. They haven't seen or heard from you in weeks. You told me you were with your cousin, and then..."

He looked down at his feet, trying to force his prosthetics not to go into spasms sitting this close to a woman whose powers could shred him like tinfoil with a blink. Closing his eyes, he tried to bite back the feelings of an onrushing panic attack. "Wh... what do you... what do you want?"

"I'm adopted. The people who raised me aren't my real parents. They're actually my aunt and uncle." Her explanation was calm, like she'd expected the question. "My real father is the one who wants to meet you. He's impressed with your abilities and your intelligence. I've learned a great deal from him both about his philosophy and about my powers."

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you. I knew it would be too upsetting for everyone if they knew where I'd gone." She stood, smoothing out her jean skirt automatically. "In any case, I would be grateful if you would come with me." While it was framed as a request, it was clearly nothing of the kind.

Eyes glancing around, Forge realized there was no way he could make a run for it. Lorna could force him to go if she wanted, and that would most likely result in him being crippled or worse. Making a scene would endanger everyone around. Forge found his gaze drawn to the group of teenage girls admiring one of their peers' newest piercings, the woman pushing her baby in the metal-framed stroller, the security guard with his handcuffs and mace on his riveted belt.

If Lorna so chose, any one of them could be a walking shrapnel bomb. And that wasn't how things were going to happen today.

"Yeah, I'll go," Forge found himself saying. "Just... you don't have to hurt anyone. I'll go, no problems, I promise."

She beamed at him like a proud teacher. "Thank you. You really don't know how important this is. We couldn't do with without you. Not to be all Star Wars about it but at the moment, you're Ben Kenobi to my Leia." She picked up her jacket and shrugged it on, adjusting the thick silver necklace beneath her scarf as she did so.

Forge frowned as he took his PDA and tossed it in a nearby trash can. "I suppose I won't need these, then?" he nudged the shopping bags under the bench with his foot. "Suppose it's some old-school gamer's lucky day."

She laughed, "No. I'm afraid canasta is far more the game of choice where we're going." She rolled her eyes, "Old people are very boring. Anyway, hurry up, I have to get dinner started and my father isn't exactly patient about his mealtimes."

Well, wherever he was going, Lorna was cooking. That alone was a bright spot in the darkness. Standing up and spreading his arms, Forge shrugged. "Whatever you say. I'm just the Patty Hearst to your Symbiotic whatever army. I think I dozed off during that part of History class."

"You should really pay more attention to your teachers, Forge. History is important." She nodded at him. "Let's hurry. The blue M&M hates waiting and I already get enough grief from her as is."

"The blue..." Suddenly it clicked. Blue female. Lorna acting threateningly. Her choices of words. Her father. "Oh my god. Oh my god. You're working for Magneto."

Instinctively, Forge started backing away from Lorna. "Lorna, you can't do this," he insisted. "This isn't you. Something's wrong with you. Come on, you don't have to do this. I have the Jeep outside, we can go back to the mansion, talk to the Professor, everything will be fine."

Her eyes went flat and cold and he stopped moving abruptly, his limbs locked up in EM fields. "Forge. I need you to come with me. I don't want to hurt you but I will if I have to. My father wants you to help us."

"Help?" The word was choked, Forge could barely move his jaw with the pain shooting through his nerves. "He wants... my help..." Right arm spastically lashing out to support himself against a storefront, Forge nodded sharply. "All right. Just.. I'll do it. I'll do it."

She released him. "My apologies. I didn't want to do that." She watched him for a moment to be sure that he wasn't permanently damaged--that would do her no good at all. "Yes. He wants your help. He needs you."

Waiting for the feeling to come back in his limbs, Forge took a deep breath in, coughing as he exhaled. Nodding, he held a hand out to Lorna for support. "Then I don't have much of a choice, do I? Let's go."

She stepped in to support him without any hesitation and turned to nod at a sullen looking young man leaning against a pillar, smoking in calculated defiance of the mall's policy. He scowled and walked off.

"So how are things in the mansion?"