Log: Billy and Wanda - AKOM: The Imprinting (backdated)

[x-asgardian.livejournal.com]

A chance encounter and a small kindness from Wanda changes Billy's life forever.

For early summer, the afternoon was unusually warm. A gentle breeze drifted across the Hudson River, however, keeping the adjacent park and small soccer field reasonably comfortable. The sky was blue, with only a few thin, wispy clouds high overhead, and a few birds even twittered in the trees lining the sidewalk. All in all, a downright tolerable day. Well, for most, people at least.

Billy sat in the dirt in the small alcove between a park bench and a large shrub. While not really private, it was the only place he could see that offered any semblance of it, and he'd dragged himself there in attempt to tend his wounds. His white jersey looked like something out of a horror film, covered in bright red splotches, though his nose finally seemed to have stopped bleeding. He'd rubbed as much of the gravel from his forearms as he could see squinting out of one eye, though the scrapes would still need further tending. He carefully reached up to his eye, swollen nearly shut, but even that light touch caused him to gasp loudly in pain.

It was only a momentary lull in the rise and fall of the sounds of the park that allowed Wanda to hear the slight moan of pain. Perhaps if she'd been anyone else, she might not have paid it much attention but she'd spent too many years either making similar noises or treating others who'd been injured. It didn't appear, though, that she'd heard as she strode past the little grove. Curiosity didn't win out over caution and Wanda wanted to make sure this was no trap; the sunglasses hid the fact that her eyes slid to the side and caught sight of the young man.

Her footsteps didn't hesitate as she continued on, aiming for the little hot dog cart further on.

Oh what Billy would have done for sunglasses at that moment. He stiffened as the woman passed, suddenly all too aware that he was likely more conspicuousbeside the bench than if he'd been sitting on it, and wishing there was more cover. His efforts to not cry were valiant, and mostly successful with the good eye, but the bad one leaked stubbornly, and he finally settled for trying to look down into his lap, trying to hide both the eye and the embarrassed flush that was starting to creep across his face.

Transaction at the cart completed, Wanda retraced her steps back to where she'd spotted the young man. There was still the likelihood that someone was setting her up but with no obvious sign of a threat, she decided to treat it as if it were not a threat while keeping an eye out. Instead of passing him by this time, she stopped right in front of him and crouched down to his level. "Here," she said, voice low enough to not draw attention but not so low as to look suspicious. "You look like you could use these."

She held out two items - a cold bottle of water and a handkerchief she'd pulled out of her purse.

Billy froze as the woman stopped in front of him, wishing he could sink into the ground. When she spoke, though, he had to look up, and he glanced between her and the offered aid. "Uh... That's alr-- I mean, I don--" he started a couple times, then finally settled with a simple "Thanks." He brushed the dirt off on his jeans, then reached out, awkwardly taking the items. "That's really...thanks." He gave her an awkward smile, before glancing between the water and handkerchief. After a moment's thought, he cautiously lifted the bottle to his eye, wincing as the cold plastic touched the sensitive skin.

"Well, it does look like you have been rather short of kindness lately," she replied, resting on her haunches. Wanda quickly took stock of his injuries but didn't reach for him. She didn't think anyone who looked like that would appreciate a stranger reaching for him. "Would you like me to make a half-hearted joke about if you caught the number of the bus that hit you? From the American movies I sometimes watch, it appears to be the appropriate response."

Despite his injuries, Billy's mouth quirked up in a half-smile, which he instantly regretted, flinching as the eye panged. He took the bottle away, twisted off the cap, and poured a bit of water onto the handkerchief, before setting it on the bench beside him. "I know the number alright," he said, starting to dab at his forearms. He hissed as the cloth touched the grazed skin, gritting his teeth until the pain passed. "4, 17, and 23." He twisted slightly, to show a large 19 stitched onto the back of his jersey, before turning his attention back to his arms.

"So, either you were attacked by a toddler, a teen and a young adult or several of your supposed comrades in arms turned on you," she said, finally settling herself on the ground in front of him. Wanda had been taking a walk after work and had been dressed for it but they were just clothes and could be washed later. Again, she stretched out her hands. "I have some knowledge of cleaning up injuries but I would understand if you would prefer to do it on your own?"

Wanda was curious about the reason behind the assault but she kept quiet. She'd intruded enough by stopping and to ask would only be prying. But the severity of his injuries stirred something in her - she'd always hated bullies.

Billy finished wiping down his left arm, glanced back at her, and finally shrugged, dropping the last of his forced self-reliance. "Did I get all the blood off my face? It must look pretty bad, huh? Gah, how am I going to explain this?" he wondered, gesturing at the eye. "The bloody nose, I could figure out something to tell my parents, but this, they'll know it was a fight. I'll probably end up grounded for the rest of the summer."

She took the bottle of water back from him though she rested it against her leg so that she could take his arm. Wanda gently turned it for a second to get a better look at the wounds and then grunted. They were mostly superficial but the dirt and grit had gotten in there pretty decently. Taking the bottle of water, she started to pour the water over his forearm in an effort to get anything that wasn't ground in out that he hadn't gotten on his own.

"Do you know how many black eyes are caused by injuries to the nose?" Wanda asked. "If you truly wish to avoid telling your parents that you either started a fight or were attacked, then come up with a plausible explanation of how you hurt your nose and explain that you received the black eye along with the busted nose. The injuries on your arms would probably corroborate a fall of some sort, a skid -" She tilted her head. "How are your skateboarding skills?"

"Really? I never heard that" Billy asked, talking to try to ignore the sting of the water. "Cuz my dad's a doctor, and well..." He thought her suggestion through for a moment. "Never really did much skateboarding, but I guess that's actually a good thing. I guess I could say I borrowed a friend's to try it out... and maybe...yeah, that might work." He fell quiet for a moment, letting her do her work with the water, then suddenly blurted out, "I didn't start it," not quite sure why he didn't want her to think badly of him. "Well, I guess I kinda did start it, but I didn't mean to start it."

Oh, how many times had she said almost that exact thing to her mother and uncle while growing up? Wanda ducked her head to hide a small smile. "So how did you kind of start this brawl of yours?" she asked, feeling more like she was continuing the conversation instead of butting in. She met his eyes as she picked up the damp handkerchief. "This will sting - fair warning." And she set to wiping out the more stubborn pieces of road from his arm.

Billy nodded then looked away, grimacing through the pain until she'd finished. "Well, there's this kid, 69," he started slowly, deciding to stick with the safer number scheme. "And...he's kinda...different, y'know? And we all...kinda...tease him. A lot," his voice dropped low, and he looked down away from her, carefully examining one of the pieces of gravel she'd removed from his skin. "But today it...just went too far," he finally continued, still not looking up. "Pushing him around and stuff. By the road and cars. It...wasn't cool. I tried to get them to stop. Said someone was going to get hurt." He paused a moment and shrugged. "Guess someone did."

"And your parents wouldn't understand that you stood up to some bullies?" Wanda hadn't meant to ask but it slipped out anyway as she put down the arm she'd been working on and moved to the next one to repeat the process over again. "That you prevented someone else from getting hurt?"

Billy gave a little laugh. "I'm not sure which speech I'd get. Toss-up between the 'I told you you should be hanging out with those kids' or the 'Fighting never solves anything' one. They're both pretty terrible. If I was really unlucky, they might combine them. Besides, those three will all say something different, and Jo--er, 69, will be too afraid to say anything different. And then if my parents did believe me, I'd be super screwed, because they'd probably try to 'fix' it. Which would just be...a mess."

"I think the term 'between a rock and a hard place' certainly sums up your situation." Wanda pulled back to admire her handiwork. Without bandages, he was still bleeding but the wounds were decently clean for the moment. He would need to get them cleaned even further but he'd said his father was a doctor, so she'd have no guilt once she went on her way. It was only when she'd relinquished his arm that she noticed that rather unsurprisingly, her hands were bloody.

Using the rest of the water in the bottle, she started to efficiently clean herself up. "My name's Wanda," she said after a moment. "Is there something I can call you or will I be forced to refer you as '19'?"

For a moment, Billy was reminded that Wanda was still a complete stranger, but then reason set in. "I'm Billy." He inspected his arms. "Thanks. And sorry about the handkerchief," he added, nodding toward the likely permanently red stained cloth. "Yeah, you're definitely not from New York. Not too many people would just stop for a stranger."

She shrugged at the handkerchief - they weren't expensive but she appreciated the sentiment. "To be fair, not many would have, either, from where I come from." Wanda smiled, a flash of teeth, and continued, "Actually, those that I know might have stopped and fixed you up but you would have lost your wallet at some point. My relatives would have considered it a fair trade."

Wanda stuffed the soiled cloth into the water bottle but she had no intention of throwing it out in the park. Too many spells used blood and there were casters who didn't care where they got it from or whose it was. Standing, Wanda stared down at Billy for a moment. "Keep this in mind for the future. There are always those that are weaker than others and there are always those looking to prove their superiority over them. There are fewer protectors than there should be. Whatever further trouble or pain comes of this, know you did the right thing."

Out of a pocket she pulled a scrap of paper and a pen which she used to write down the number of a phone that couldn't be easily connected back to her. "Call this if you need someone to patch you up who would not be tempted to relieve you of your wallet."

"The joke would have been on them, then," Billy replied with a small grin, careful not to move too much of his face. "I'm not sure there's enough in there to even pay for the bottle of water." He thought over the words a moment. Fewer protectors than there should be. They sounded strange. Strange, but also strangely inspiring to the young mind. "Now just to convince my parents I did the right thing. Or figure out what color the skateboard was." Yes, it would seem that young Billy Kaplan did know secret to a good lie was in the details. He took the paper with a nod. He reached for the bench beside him for leverage as he started to lift himself up, then froze, wincing at stab of pain in his side. He pushed through it until he was finally on his feet. "Thanks. Really."

She smiled and was about to respond when a searing pain hit her at the base of her skull. Wanda grunted slightly and pressed her fingers to her temple for a moment, not surprised to see a flash of red appear around her wrist before it winked out. For a moment, her power danced in front of her eyes in a space only she could see before something snapped and a crashing noise and yelling happened down the path. Genosha had taxed her powers and they had retreated for a time but now they were acting up. It seemed like it would be some time before her powers settled down.

Grateful the flash of red was too fast for Billy to have seen, her smile returned as she dropped her hand. "Apologies, random headache." She was ignoring the cursing coming down the path - it appeared some bicyclist's front tire had randomly exploded. Fancy that. "But you're welcome, Billy. Try to keep yourself in one piece, hmm?"

Billy had plenty to of painful distractions of his own to even be looking at her wrists. "I'll do my best," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans again. "Wish me luck with my folks," he said. "And who knows, just maybe I'll be super lucky and this--" he gingerly touched his eye "--won't turn into something black and green and hideous."

And as it would turn out, though he didn't know it just then, it wouldn't turn into a black eye. Luck, however, had nothing to do with it.