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xp_logsArtie runs into Illyana in the kitchen when she's making a late night snack. He's suspicious, she's wary. Favors and future information get exchanged over sandwiches.
The mansion was never truly quiet. It was late. Artie had been on a call with the contacts they still kept in Budapest, untangling the whole neo nazi white supremacist anti mutant mess and taking notes on it. He'd left his synthesizer on his desk when he walked out of his suite, needing a change of space, a snack that wasn't from his shitty cooking and just a breather before falling into bed.
Illyana didn't really have a sleep schedule. She didn't have duties up here, just hours of fruitless research between meals and gathering her words for the inevitable long conversation with her older brother. Technology still mostly escaped her, although the upgraded phone she'd been handed wasn't too different. That, at least, she could manage. She inevitably made her way back to the kitchen, wondering what her limited cooking skills could make her that wasn't a pop-tart. She could just imagine Pyotr's face if he found out she was only eating those.
There was bread though, and peanut butter. Ooh, a banana. She was putting the items together when she heard someone else come in, and she stopped slicing the banana to see who it was. The face was somewhat familiar, but the name was escaping her. Not someone new, at least.
Part of Artie's mind was always on guard these days, even here. He stiffened momentarily, eyes tracking to the butter knife and up to Illyana's face before relaxing and smiling, his body language saying that he was absolutely comfortable with the situation and with seeing Illyana again for the first time in years. He'd worked on that, long hours spent with Doug and video cameras until he could act the part when he needed to. He gave her a small wave and a bright smile. "Hi! I heard you were back in town." The floating text was bright and cheerful, lighting up the room.
Everyone was being so cheerful. It was weird. Illyana blinked a few times as the bright letters appeared, but no. Still bright. Jaunty. Weird. "Hi?" It was more of a question, and she ducked her head back down briefly to go back to slicing the banana, letting her blonde locks half shield her face from view. Once she was done, she carefully stacked the slices on the peanut butter, then looked up at the man in front of her. "Do you... want a sandwich? Sorry, do not remember your name." She had a feeling she'd be saying that to a lot of people in the coming days, particularly the ones she mostly remembered by face and a nickname they'd probably rather not hear.
"Artie". He finger spelled it, slowly, as well as projecting the text."I'd love a sandwich, thanks." He was resolutely not tracking the knife, mostly because the knife was not the problem here. The problem was that the last time she'd been around, she'd been a teenager and the dossier they had - on Illyana, on Limbo, on the old version of her - said threat, and you know, that was the problem. Right now, literally none of them knew exactly what she was capable of, beyond surviving a hell dimension but this Illyana carried herself with more confidence than she had ever before. So. Threat and the knife was not the problem here.
Pyotr was also a problem here, just not yet. The betting pool had odds on violence against spies when it came to his eventual processing of events or if X-Force had to eventually take down the mildly alarming powder keg standing in front of him right now.
"Up late?"
Illyana watched his fingers move, curious. "Do not know finger language. Did not use it in spells, so... wasn't considered something to teach me." And at least half the demons she could think of either didn't have enough or had far too many fingers or appendages in general to make use of human finger spelling. She could learn it though, if people here were using it. Languages were easy. She cut the sandwich on a diagonal, and pushed the plate it was on across the counter. More bread, more peanut butter, another banana. She made the sandwich methodically, then shoved a bite into her mouth, chewing slowly.
"Am not used to sleeping topside anymore. Was not gone from Muir long, but long enough. Time is different, little bit. Sleep when body says sleep, up when body says up." She felt softly interrogated. It was fine. She'd been gone a while. The mansion was... there was chaos energy there that had been more suppressed before. She hadn't felt as many competing magics against her skin. It felt, somehow, a little distinctly off. Maybe her new status was what felt off against the wards, because she could feel the threat in them more strongly than before.
"You?"
"Happy to teach you sometime," Artie replied, signing and projecting the words simultaneously, even though the lapse into signed English made his heart ache a little. "Sleeping around here is hard. There's a lot of night owls in the mansion and surrounds. I'm just fresh off work, though. Had to call some people in Europe and you know how that is." He stopped signing - there was no point and the juggling of two languages always left one falling short - to take a mouthful of the sandwich, settling onto one of the bar stools at the counter, bare feet on the rungs. Time was different, huh? That tracked. "How long were you gone for, in your experience of time?"
She didn't quite know how it was, but assumed distance or time was involved, so she nodded along. "New language has never been useless before, even if most of school was dumb," she said after swallowing a bite of sandwich. How long had she been gone? "Left with Rahne, went to Muir. Contacts didn't pan out, had to go back to Limbo." She set her sandwich down, counting silently but visibly on her fingers. "Not enough to need to change birth year, but... 12 months, maybe 10? Left in February, topside end of October. Time is not straight line."
Artie nodded again, noting the counting, the visible confusion about Europe and fixing the ways her expression changed when she was thinking into his memory. He wouldn't quite replay this conversation later but he'd display the images he was memorising in the debrief the team would have eventually. "Damn. That's confusing. You still have your old license and things?" He ate his sandwich and asked "How's Rahne and Moira? I always meant to email them but I never really got around to it." He gave a little shrug. "Then suddenly it's been a couple of years and it's just way too awkward." Did he ask about the contacts? Offer up the team? The ability to get a better grasp of threat levels weighed up against getting current trust was always a difficult one.
"Both are fine. Rahne didn't want to do a tour of Limbo, cannot blame her. Last I saw was happy. Peaceful. Moira too. Better for them than here." Illyana pulled out a threadbare wallet that had clearly seen better days. "Have ID. Other things..." she shrugged, uncertain. Possibly still at Muir. Maybe here. She'd never had much, so hadn't thought to take much, and she'd taken even less on her trip back to Limbo. Just enough to fill a backpack, nothing so precious she couldn't dump and run if necessary. A few times it almost had been, but she'd made it back with most of the things she'd left with. "Will need to do something eventually. Want me to tell Rahne hello when I email?"
Artie shook his head. "I'll get in touch with her soon." He finished his sandwich and eyed Illyana speculatively. "You don't have any walking around money, do you?" It wasn't exactly an X-Force problem but. Demon Queen. Dubious grasp of how problem solving worked topside. "Come by one of our suites in the morning and we'll make sure you have cash and cards."
"Little bit, was able to buy little cakes at festival, a few shirts. Have some left, few pieces of European money and some dollars." Her face scrunched in distaste. "Will have to figure out way to make more up here, cannot just rely on open hands. Do not want to bother brother either. Thanks. Will bring what paperwork I have, make sure it's correct?"
He had his hook. "European money draws attention. Can't use that here. Police will make trouble for you if you do. Come by tomorrow. We'll set you up with money, paperwork." He paused, let the text dissolve and locked eyes with Illyana. "It's not free. One," Artie held up a finger, "we want a favour. Don't know what, yet, but we want a favour. And two," Artie held up a second finger, "We want information."
Illyana hadn't become Queen by tripping and falling into the position. Or well. Maybe she had - just a little - when she locked Belasco away, even if she hadn't accepted the throne then. Still. Artie had the upper hand here, she couldn't just conjure the stupid notes people used for food here. "One favor, not deadly, will not kill demon currently running Limbo, hook anyone up with succubus or incubus, or sliver more of soul." She wasn't actually sure she could do that last bit, with Belasco stripped of magic. She wouldn't trust S'ym to do it, and Soulsword had hurt badly enough. She shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth and turned to the fridge, coming up with a bottle of juice and a water. The juice she opened, the water she slid across the counter. "Wanda still here? If so, will answer questions from her. Canadian guy already asked about Olivier."
Artie nodded, recalculating his assessment of her again. The unwordliness ... wasn't, was it? "Fair. The favour will not involve asking you to kill the demon running Limbo, an incubus or succubus or your soul. And I'm not offering enough to ask you to kill any human for me or for you to put yourself in mortal danger." He thought it was probably best to be clear on that. "If I need you to kill a person - or transport us to kill a person - that will be a different favour with different payment." He accepted the water and added, "Wanda is still here and I'll let her know you will answer questions."
He smiled then. "Now, to payment. Is $500 cash and $150 weekly on a credit card for two months suitable?" Two grand wasn't really much in the scheme of things, not for this intel and paying it out weekly kept her in contact with them.
"Is fine," Illyana said with a nod. She didn't have that many expenses and mostly only cared about clothing being clean and comfortable. She'd steal a shirt from her brother if necessary, wear it like a dress with a belt. Her current shirt was one of the few that had survived her stint through Limbo, and it'd been in one of the donation boxes at Muir when she arrived. "Not sure if I could actually kill human? Am small, sword is for magic, magic mostly good for finding." On this plane, at least. Well, maybe she could kill a human, but she'd need a different sword for that. Swords cost money, favors, materials, and time. So for now... "Would drop in Limbo for $500 and big dinner, maybe. Bring back in few hours." She wiped the peanut butter off the knife she'd used for sandwiches and sliced neatly into the meat of her palm, holding her hand and the hilt of the blade out at Artie expectantly.
Artie blinked internally and accepted the knife. His hepatitis shots were up to date, probably. Ah, whatever, he'd go see Emma's doctor in the morning. There were going to be antibiotics in his future when the peanut butter started in on his blood stream.
He sliced his hand, hissing out loud at the pain. God damn. Why did it always have to be hands, not like, the back of your arm or something that didn't hurt for days afterwards. He reached out and shook.
Illyana felt the contract settle between them as their blood connected. "Would have used magic for contract, but..." she trailed off, trying to figure out the easiest way to talk about the inherent imbalances of power in magical contracts where only one of them had the quantity of magic to sustain and enforce the contract. "Very unfair to non-magical type. Blood is blood, hand is easy and least personal." Her stomach grumbled. She wiped the blood on a napkin and folded it away carefully, then grabbed an apple.
He didn't have an easy response to that, so just nodded. "Thanks." The text was plain and unembellished, black on white. He wanted to fight, to explain that he'd destroy her if she'd left any magic on him but this was Friendly Artie so he just gave another cheerful smile and stood up. "Sorry Illyana, but it's the middle of the night, you know? I gotta get some sleep."
The mansion was never truly quiet. It was late. Artie had been on a call with the contacts they still kept in Budapest, untangling the whole neo nazi white supremacist anti mutant mess and taking notes on it. He'd left his synthesizer on his desk when he walked out of his suite, needing a change of space, a snack that wasn't from his shitty cooking and just a breather before falling into bed.
Illyana didn't really have a sleep schedule. She didn't have duties up here, just hours of fruitless research between meals and gathering her words for the inevitable long conversation with her older brother. Technology still mostly escaped her, although the upgraded phone she'd been handed wasn't too different. That, at least, she could manage. She inevitably made her way back to the kitchen, wondering what her limited cooking skills could make her that wasn't a pop-tart. She could just imagine Pyotr's face if he found out she was only eating those.
There was bread though, and peanut butter. Ooh, a banana. She was putting the items together when she heard someone else come in, and she stopped slicing the banana to see who it was. The face was somewhat familiar, but the name was escaping her. Not someone new, at least.
Part of Artie's mind was always on guard these days, even here. He stiffened momentarily, eyes tracking to the butter knife and up to Illyana's face before relaxing and smiling, his body language saying that he was absolutely comfortable with the situation and with seeing Illyana again for the first time in years. He'd worked on that, long hours spent with Doug and video cameras until he could act the part when he needed to. He gave her a small wave and a bright smile. "Hi! I heard you were back in town." The floating text was bright and cheerful, lighting up the room.
Everyone was being so cheerful. It was weird. Illyana blinked a few times as the bright letters appeared, but no. Still bright. Jaunty. Weird. "Hi?" It was more of a question, and she ducked her head back down briefly to go back to slicing the banana, letting her blonde locks half shield her face from view. Once she was done, she carefully stacked the slices on the peanut butter, then looked up at the man in front of her. "Do you... want a sandwich? Sorry, do not remember your name." She had a feeling she'd be saying that to a lot of people in the coming days, particularly the ones she mostly remembered by face and a nickname they'd probably rather not hear.
"Artie". He finger spelled it, slowly, as well as projecting the text."I'd love a sandwich, thanks." He was resolutely not tracking the knife, mostly because the knife was not the problem here. The problem was that the last time she'd been around, she'd been a teenager and the dossier they had - on Illyana, on Limbo, on the old version of her - said threat, and you know, that was the problem. Right now, literally none of them knew exactly what she was capable of, beyond surviving a hell dimension but this Illyana carried herself with more confidence than she had ever before. So. Threat and the knife was not the problem here.
Pyotr was also a problem here, just not yet. The betting pool had odds on violence against spies when it came to his eventual processing of events or if X-Force had to eventually take down the mildly alarming powder keg standing in front of him right now.
"Up late?"
Illyana watched his fingers move, curious. "Do not know finger language. Did not use it in spells, so... wasn't considered something to teach me." And at least half the demons she could think of either didn't have enough or had far too many fingers or appendages in general to make use of human finger spelling. She could learn it though, if people here were using it. Languages were easy. She cut the sandwich on a diagonal, and pushed the plate it was on across the counter. More bread, more peanut butter, another banana. She made the sandwich methodically, then shoved a bite into her mouth, chewing slowly.
"Am not used to sleeping topside anymore. Was not gone from Muir long, but long enough. Time is different, little bit. Sleep when body says sleep, up when body says up." She felt softly interrogated. It was fine. She'd been gone a while. The mansion was... there was chaos energy there that had been more suppressed before. She hadn't felt as many competing magics against her skin. It felt, somehow, a little distinctly off. Maybe her new status was what felt off against the wards, because she could feel the threat in them more strongly than before.
"You?"
"Happy to teach you sometime," Artie replied, signing and projecting the words simultaneously, even though the lapse into signed English made his heart ache a little. "Sleeping around here is hard. There's a lot of night owls in the mansion and surrounds. I'm just fresh off work, though. Had to call some people in Europe and you know how that is." He stopped signing - there was no point and the juggling of two languages always left one falling short - to take a mouthful of the sandwich, settling onto one of the bar stools at the counter, bare feet on the rungs. Time was different, huh? That tracked. "How long were you gone for, in your experience of time?"
She didn't quite know how it was, but assumed distance or time was involved, so she nodded along. "New language has never been useless before, even if most of school was dumb," she said after swallowing a bite of sandwich. How long had she been gone? "Left with Rahne, went to Muir. Contacts didn't pan out, had to go back to Limbo." She set her sandwich down, counting silently but visibly on her fingers. "Not enough to need to change birth year, but... 12 months, maybe 10? Left in February, topside end of October. Time is not straight line."
Artie nodded again, noting the counting, the visible confusion about Europe and fixing the ways her expression changed when she was thinking into his memory. He wouldn't quite replay this conversation later but he'd display the images he was memorising in the debrief the team would have eventually. "Damn. That's confusing. You still have your old license and things?" He ate his sandwich and asked "How's Rahne and Moira? I always meant to email them but I never really got around to it." He gave a little shrug. "Then suddenly it's been a couple of years and it's just way too awkward." Did he ask about the contacts? Offer up the team? The ability to get a better grasp of threat levels weighed up against getting current trust was always a difficult one.
"Both are fine. Rahne didn't want to do a tour of Limbo, cannot blame her. Last I saw was happy. Peaceful. Moira too. Better for them than here." Illyana pulled out a threadbare wallet that had clearly seen better days. "Have ID. Other things..." she shrugged, uncertain. Possibly still at Muir. Maybe here. She'd never had much, so hadn't thought to take much, and she'd taken even less on her trip back to Limbo. Just enough to fill a backpack, nothing so precious she couldn't dump and run if necessary. A few times it almost had been, but she'd made it back with most of the things she'd left with. "Will need to do something eventually. Want me to tell Rahne hello when I email?"
Artie shook his head. "I'll get in touch with her soon." He finished his sandwich and eyed Illyana speculatively. "You don't have any walking around money, do you?" It wasn't exactly an X-Force problem but. Demon Queen. Dubious grasp of how problem solving worked topside. "Come by one of our suites in the morning and we'll make sure you have cash and cards."
"Little bit, was able to buy little cakes at festival, a few shirts. Have some left, few pieces of European money and some dollars." Her face scrunched in distaste. "Will have to figure out way to make more up here, cannot just rely on open hands. Do not want to bother brother either. Thanks. Will bring what paperwork I have, make sure it's correct?"
He had his hook. "European money draws attention. Can't use that here. Police will make trouble for you if you do. Come by tomorrow. We'll set you up with money, paperwork." He paused, let the text dissolve and locked eyes with Illyana. "It's not free. One," Artie held up a finger, "we want a favour. Don't know what, yet, but we want a favour. And two," Artie held up a second finger, "We want information."
Illyana hadn't become Queen by tripping and falling into the position. Or well. Maybe she had - just a little - when she locked Belasco away, even if she hadn't accepted the throne then. Still. Artie had the upper hand here, she couldn't just conjure the stupid notes people used for food here. "One favor, not deadly, will not kill demon currently running Limbo, hook anyone up with succubus or incubus, or sliver more of soul." She wasn't actually sure she could do that last bit, with Belasco stripped of magic. She wouldn't trust S'ym to do it, and Soulsword had hurt badly enough. She shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth and turned to the fridge, coming up with a bottle of juice and a water. The juice she opened, the water she slid across the counter. "Wanda still here? If so, will answer questions from her. Canadian guy already asked about Olivier."
Artie nodded, recalculating his assessment of her again. The unwordliness ... wasn't, was it? "Fair. The favour will not involve asking you to kill the demon running Limbo, an incubus or succubus or your soul. And I'm not offering enough to ask you to kill any human for me or for you to put yourself in mortal danger." He thought it was probably best to be clear on that. "If I need you to kill a person - or transport us to kill a person - that will be a different favour with different payment." He accepted the water and added, "Wanda is still here and I'll let her know you will answer questions."
He smiled then. "Now, to payment. Is $500 cash and $150 weekly on a credit card for two months suitable?" Two grand wasn't really much in the scheme of things, not for this intel and paying it out weekly kept her in contact with them.
"Is fine," Illyana said with a nod. She didn't have that many expenses and mostly only cared about clothing being clean and comfortable. She'd steal a shirt from her brother if necessary, wear it like a dress with a belt. Her current shirt was one of the few that had survived her stint through Limbo, and it'd been in one of the donation boxes at Muir when she arrived. "Not sure if I could actually kill human? Am small, sword is for magic, magic mostly good for finding." On this plane, at least. Well, maybe she could kill a human, but she'd need a different sword for that. Swords cost money, favors, materials, and time. So for now... "Would drop in Limbo for $500 and big dinner, maybe. Bring back in few hours." She wiped the peanut butter off the knife she'd used for sandwiches and sliced neatly into the meat of her palm, holding her hand and the hilt of the blade out at Artie expectantly.
Artie blinked internally and accepted the knife. His hepatitis shots were up to date, probably. Ah, whatever, he'd go see Emma's doctor in the morning. There were going to be antibiotics in his future when the peanut butter started in on his blood stream.
He sliced his hand, hissing out loud at the pain. God damn. Why did it always have to be hands, not like, the back of your arm or something that didn't hurt for days afterwards. He reached out and shook.
Illyana felt the contract settle between them as their blood connected. "Would have used magic for contract, but..." she trailed off, trying to figure out the easiest way to talk about the inherent imbalances of power in magical contracts where only one of them had the quantity of magic to sustain and enforce the contract. "Very unfair to non-magical type. Blood is blood, hand is easy and least personal." Her stomach grumbled. She wiped the blood on a napkin and folded it away carefully, then grabbed an apple.
He didn't have an easy response to that, so just nodded. "Thanks." The text was plain and unembellished, black on white. He wanted to fight, to explain that he'd destroy her if she'd left any magic on him but this was Friendly Artie so he just gave another cheerful smile and stood up. "Sorry Illyana, but it's the middle of the night, you know? I gotta get some sleep."
