xp_logs | Face The Blood - Forge & Crystal

After helping out one of the local children, Forge gets a visit from Crystal and they comment on the state of things in this particular part of the world. It... does not go well.

"Okay, Milosh," Forge said as he squatted down to put himself at eye level with the child in front of him. "How does it feel? Um... si jeni?" he asked as he consulted the small phrasebook that the Red Cross workers had given to him.

The little boy, Milosh by name, shrugged - for the first time in over two years expressing the motion with both shoulders. At six years old, the boy had been playing with his sister in a field outside their settlement when she picked up a brightly-colored piece of plastic, thinking it a toy. What it had been was a fragmentation bomblet from a cluster bomb dropped months before. The girl died instantly, and Milosh had his right arm amputated just below the shoulder.

Today, he sported a metal-and-plastic prosthesis in its place, buckled over the shoulder and around the boy's chest. Awkwardly, he raised the artificial hand, eyes widening as he wiggled the plastic fingers. "Nuk kuptoj... I am not understand," Milosh stuttered. "How is work?"

Forge patted Milosh's shoulder. "It's complicated. Nerve induction pads carry impulses that your body used to send to your fingers, while providing realtime feedback for kinematic processing and..." he stopped as the boy was obviously lost by the language. "It is science," he explained slowly. "It is what I do." He accentuated the last by placing his own metal hand over the boy's prosthetic, tapping fingertips together.

"Sa kushton ajo?" Milosh's mother asked. "How much is cost? Is not having money, we..."

Forge shook his head and pointed to the Red Cross insignia on the wall. "Nothing. Um... ne jemi... da shok? We are friends. We are here to help. S'ka problem. It's not a problem."

Surprisingly, the small child rushed forward, throwing both arms around Forge's waist in a hug before running to his mother. Muttering words of thanks, the mother and child left the small medical center. Forge turned to consult the clipboard hanging on the wall, raising a mug of coffee to his lips. "All in a day's work," he muttered.

"You are making new friends, I see," a voice said somewhere behind Forge, the owner of said voice having witnessed the scene which had just played out.

"Hey there!" Forge exclaimed, turning around at the sound of Crystal's voice. "I was wondering if I'd get to see you at all, what with how busy they're keeping us. Would you believe that half the refugees here don't even understand the idea of health care? Half of them don't even have any kind of documentation proving they exist. There's folks from Albania, Montenegro, Croats, Serbs, Kosovans, Bosniaks... it's like someone threw a deck of cards across a table and said 'screw you all, you don't have a country any more'. How do people let things get this crazy?"

"Of course you get to see me; this is only your second time with Red X, after all, and it is my duty to ensure that those who are new to Red X are doing fine," Crystal teased him before becoming serious. "You do remember that this is a country and culture vastly different than the ones you are used to, yes? That what is acceptable or normal to one group of people can seem the opposite to others? While there are certain ideas that should hold true universally, other differences are due to matters of culture or opinion, and what is a proper action according to the upbringing of one person may actually offend another person who was raised a different way."

"Yeah, but some things are basic human rights," Forge protested. "Yet another series of wars - and for what? Because people hate and fear anything that's different. Humans versus mutants, Muslims versus Serbs, Bosniak versus Croatian - and for what? Scraps of ground? Grudges people's great-grandparents held?"

He paced across the room, then pointed to the door. "I've been working with children like Milosh who've been crippled by a war they had no part in except for being born in the wrong place. In what world is that 'proper'? Tell me, Crystal, because I'm going to find that world and burn it down."

"I suppose that depends, yes?" Crystal watched Forge closely. "Is this the first time that such a situation has happened in the world? Is this the first time that atrocities have been committed against people who were judged or harmed due to a circumstance of birth beyond their control? As you have already stated, no, it is not. What can be done? There is no miraculous save for instant world peace, Forge. Is what has happened, what is happening, proper, then? To some people it is the way of the world; as long as they are not directly and personally affected, what happens to others is of no concern to them. You would have to burn the entire world and start over if you wished to rid the world of these conflicts, and even then who is to say that this would change things? Even mutants are not joined in one harmonious group wishing to live in peace with each other."

Forge shook his head. "That's human thinking," he exclaimed. "That just because something's been the same for generations, that it's impossible to change. I reject that way of thinking, okay? We're supposed to be the next step in evolution, not just genetically - but in the way we think. We can't just sit and say 'not my problem', not when we have the ability to change things."

He sighed and rubbed his temples, the day's weariness showing on his face. "I'm sorry, this is just a thing for me, you know? I can't go out and disarm all these warring factions, but I can try and lessen the damage they do to the folks who get caught in the crossfire."

A thought crossed his mind and he smirked. "You know, if he put his mind to it, I bet Erik could, though. Show up and -bam- disarm everyone, literally. See how long civil war continues when they're reduced to sticks and rocks."

Crystal froze, staring at Forge in shock, her first instinct to immediately turn and leave. The jab about human thinking she could forgive; she was used to being able to present opposing views to a side, of speaking in a manner that would appease people rather than stating her own personal view. Forge was not. However, what he had just said about Magneto... to Crystal, that was a betrayal. The idea that a mutant, any mutant, not only had the right to but should use his/her powers to essentially take over an area and force the people to live there under threat was abhorrent to her and entirely against the way she had been brought up. While Crystal knew that some of her beliefs regarding mutants were dangerously close to Magneto's outlook as far as many people would be concerned, Crystal did not feel this way. She drew the line well before purposely causing harm to anyone, whether mutant or human, in the name of a better world for mutants.

Forge waited for a moment, then turned and looked into a small mirror. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"I..." Crystal paused. "Forge, I..." She shook her head, trying to compose herself, doing her best to slip back into the identity of Princess Crystal, the Attilani royal who was brought up as a lady, who could chatter away to almost anyone on nearly any subject. This was the Crystal she needed to be now, not the woman who felt a sense of betrayal at what the man she cared about had just said. "I cannot speak with you on this subject right now. My apologies." With that, she followed her initial reaction, turned around, and left the building.

Forge stammered and followed Crystal outside, only to lose her in a sudden rush of Red Cross personnel running around and starting up an ambulance. He tried to call out to Crystal over the noise, but she was already gone.

In less than a minute, the hubbub had moved on, and he stood outside the small concrete building, alone.