xp_logs | Arthur & Shatterstar | Sideways and Waywords

Arthur and Shatterstar share some pastries and questions. Turns out they share an acquaintance.

Meeting Arthur Centino (it was impossible to just think of him as Arthur) had been a pipedream of Shatterstar's for as long as he could remember. He had never expected to be sitting in a kitchen with only a spread of pastries separating them. He was trying not to be too intense, but he realized he had just been staring at the man for the past two minutes. He just felt like if he opened his mouth he would start reciting Arthur's entire IMDB page at him. Still, he had to say something. "It is nice to know I was right and you aren't dead." Somehow that did not seem like the right thing to say. "Are you on the X-Men?" That didn't seem like the right question either, but he couldn't help the curiosity.

This was met with Arthur's trademark smile. "I'm always happy to defy expectations. Have to keep people guessing." Who those people were was very nebulous, but Arthur tapped his temple as if this was an intimate secret.

"I help out with X-Factor Investigations. We're based out of District X."

The smile softened a little, and Arthur leaned in just a tiny bit. "Tell me about you, though! It is delightful to have new faces around here."

Shatterstar nodded seriously, hanging onto every word Arthur said, like he was a teacher and Shatterstar was preparing for an exam. Actually, knowing his own history in school he was paying more attention. He had [heard of/been to] District X before. It made sense with everything he knew about Arthur Centino he would help out there.

Shatterstar was a little taken aback by being asked about himself and tugged on one of his braids awkwardly. He couldn't very well say "Well I modelled my life off a character you played in a set of kinda movies".

"I'm the best in my age division for HEMA and kendo in the city," Shatterstar said before clarifying. "The city of Boston, and they're both sword stuff." He didn't mention he had been out of practice and competition for about a year from being in juvie and then the hospital.

Arthur might, if he were more inclined toward metaphor, describe interacting with fans as a lot like riding a bike. A bike that wasn't built for you, and more closely resembled a cage on wheels. A cage of expectation. Also that cage was, sometimes, on fire. Absolutely none of this showed on his face, but his eyes did only genuinely brighten when Star mentioned his personal accomplishments. Focus on the fan, make it about them.

"Ooh, that's excellent," and he meant it too, "Smallswords, or do you have a favorite? I used to know some crazy talented folks in that field."

"I do longsword, mostly," Shatterstar said. "I used to try to dual wield but it's not practical outside of movies. No offense." Shatterstar knew that Arthur had been trained in that for the Spineless Ones series- that's why he had tried to learn them. It was what Gaveedra Seven did in the movies. "Longsword is nice because it's hand-and-a-half."

"I actually wanted to ask about someone you used to know." If Arthur was listening closely, he would notice the boy's voice was slightly different when he asked the question, like it was someone else's. "Do you remember Rita Wayword? Ricochet Rita?" He stopped himself from listing the productions they had worked on together.

The wattage of Arthur's smile brightened. "That's a name I haven't heard in a long time! Rita Danger, the Diva of Downtown." The laugh that accompanied his smile was tinged with obvious fondness at the edges, until suddenly he gave Shatterstar a second glance as the cogs of mental arithmetic started to turn. The hair was... he bit his bottom lip, considering.

"How has she been?"

Shatterstar leaned forward like Arthur was a sun when he said her name. It wasn't that Arthur was his cinematic hero now, it was that he was a man who had known her.

He frowned slightly and looked away from him, not asking how he knew. Shatterstar must have looked like her. "I don't know. She disappeared when I was a baby." He paused before confirming. "She was my mom, my bio mom."

The older man's smile crumbled like paper into concern. Almost without thought he reached over, but stopped short of touching. Just enough to underscore, "Shatterstar, that's impossible to imagine what that was like for you, but Rita was the life of any set. Her warmth was only matched by how awesome she was with swords. And," and Arthur paused there, tone shifting to something more conspiratorial, "Maybe almost as good as she was at talking me into trouble."

Shatterstar hadn't known he had the whole sword thing in common with his mother. It felt good to know he took after her in some way. He moved his hand to be resting next to where Arthur's hand had landed. It wasn't touching, but it showed he appreciated Arthur's concern. "It's okay. I don't miss her because I never knew her." He paused at Arthur's conspiratorial tone. "I didn't think she was anything more than your co-worker. Were you guys friends?"

Arthur, who had never met just a coworker and had always had a habit of treating everyone like family, was happy to confirm, "She was like family. Rita was so personable to anyone on any set. We were young, it was Hollywood, and it felt like we had the world at our feet." His smile slipped into fond nostalgia. "We got older, of course, and I moved into television. Suddenly we just didn't talk anymore."

"And then she had me and went missing," Shatterstar nodded, confirming the timeline. It wasn't Arthur's fault they didn't talk... though he knew that Arthur's foray into television wasn't until 2007. Had he known her when he was a baby? Shatterstar looked away from his hero and pulled his hand back into his lap. It was hard not to imagine that somehow it was his or Benjamin's fault Rita had disappeared. He paused before speaking more. "I'm glad you were friends. I kind of hoped you were."

"Hey now," and Arthur didn't reach out to counter Star's retreat, but his expression sharpened in concern at the sudden inward turn. "As her friend, I can see so much of her in you. I will be happy to share every little story if you want, but..." He let that part trail off rather mischievously as his smile shifted toward something a lot more sly, and not particularly subtle in an attempt to lighten the mood. "You'll have to show me your swordwork. Rita will never forgive me if I didn't teach you a thing or two about taking a fall, either."

Shatterstar's eyes lit up, Arthur's ploy to brighten the mood working immediately. To get to spar with Arthur Centino was like a dream come true. He's imagined it many times. He nodded eagerly. "I do know how to take a fall, but not well," he said as he stood. "And my sword work is much less showy."

"Oh now," and the other man leaned back to stretch as if in thought, but instead produced a throwing knife from seemingly nowhere. Its edge, glittering in the sunlight, danced through his fingers effortlessly with the ease that only underscored years of practice. "Now that's no good. What's true technique without a little show?"

Shatterstar couldn't help but grin at Arthur's showy knife trick, unable to figure out how he had pulled it out of what seemed like thin air. "I do like to show off," Shatterstar agreed, and seemed so excited. "Can you teach me the twirl-things? I know they aren't useful but they look so cool."

"Of course!" Arthur beamed at the kid, but slowly a little joy siphoned into concern. "What do you mean by useful?"

"You know, in a real fight," Shatterstar said with a shrug. "They just waste energy and let your guard down. The ones you do in Starlight Citadel leave you open, here, here, and here." Shatterstar tapped his spleen, his stomach, and the right side in turn. "Its too difficult to pull into a defensive position."

"Ah." The look that crossed Arthur's face was a mix of that same concern before, a touch of affront at being criticized for an age old piece of film, and the struggle of imagining this kid, or any kid really, having to consider real fights. "You mean in competition, right?" Surely that.

The older man straightened himself a little. "Flash and distraction can be great in combat. Like dancing. But when someone comes at you, things get fast and brutal. How many real fights have you been in?"

"I've been doing competitions since I was seven," Shatterstar explains. "I'm the best in the state. Maybe all of New England," he was prideful but he didn't mean to brag. This was all fact. "And I have been in plenty of real fights," he said, mistaking Arthur's question for contempt. "Just not with swords. But I could do it." He knew he could. He'd be good enough for an X-team someday.

He smiled at Arthur, all teeth. "And I always won those fights, by the way."

"Oh," Arthur countered, "I meant..." That thought was abandoned as quickly as it had arrived. He offered an out instead, "How stylish were those wins? Insult to injury is poor form, of course, but one has to please the audience. I stay out of fights these days, myself. Only showboating I choose to do is from the sidelines."

"Well," Shatterstar started like he was telling Arthur a secret. "I let some of them drag on longer than I had to just so it was more exciting when I won." He loved, loved, when people shouted his name and cheered for him. It made him a little guilty when it was for the fist fights, but for swordsmanship it felt right. He liked putting on a show. He got it from his mother.

"Then you've got half of it already! Timing is key. It'll be a pleasure to see what you can do in the dojo." That was both an earnest statement and delivered like a promise. Arthur poked at the spread of pastries, experimentally, without any new commitment toward actually touching them. "We've talked a lot about you, Star. Did you have any more questions for me?"

Did he have any more questions? Of course he did- but Shatterstar didn't know where to start or end and was suddenly very aware that he was probably wasting Arthur's time. "I wouldn't know where to start. How did you survive? Why did you come here?" He tugged at one of his braids self consciously. "But it's okay if you don't want to tell me. You must get this a lot."

"I don't," and he didn't. "The folks here all know my story and it isn't too special. I have powers that I found were putting others at risk, and I came here to learn how to live with them. Consider me an open book, though — I'm happy to share." This was punctuated with a tug at the corners of his mouth, a little flair to his default smile. He bit his lip, though, considering, "Well, there was the part with the mind control and a mountain collapse, and the time with the impending apocalypse. Then when the dark dimension invaded. Oh, once I got to break into SHIELD's headquarters."

He shrugged that off casually. "Maybe a little special? I stay here because I like helping people who need it. That's the important part for me."

Shatterstar nodded as he listened, invested in everything Arthur said. He should have guessed that Arthur was in it to help people- that was one thing he had always loved about the survival shows. Arthur always seemed kind. Shatterstar himself didn't actually know how to be kind, but he appreciated it in others.

"I assume the Apocalypse got solved, since we're still here," he said.

Arthur bit this lip. In truth, there was always another end of the world coming, but, "Keeping everyone," and he leaned on the emphasis, "Everyone, safe and still here is what I do. That's my power."

It had to come up sometime.

"The folks here call it luck. It can be sometimes, but if I want something enough, the world moves."

The idea of being able to keep everyone safe was one Shatterstar had to sit with for a moment. The idea of luck itself, he wasn't sure he could wrap his head around. What would he do if he had that power, if he was lucky?

"That must be a good power to have," he said finally.

This got the chuckle version of a spit take — a short, reactionary thing that was a matter of reflex rather than deliberate guffaw. With just the hint of an embarrassed flush crossing his cheeks, Arthur conceded, "It has helped me out a lot in the past, but it comes with costs. I hear you've been working with Terry with your's!"

"Yes," Shatterstar nodded, leaning forward a little in his chair. "I've gotten better recently, but I still..." He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked for a polite way to say it. "Dislike them." Everyone here seemed so very pro-powers that it seemed rude to admit he didn't like his. Not that he cared if people knew what he thought but being outright rude on purpose wasn't something he was going to do.

"That happens a lot," Arthur offered kindly without realizing he might be aiming for that row of assumptions Shatterstar had just lined up so nicely. "Somedays I feel paralyzed since everything I do might cause someone else to have a bad day. There's another friend here who can walk through walls, but it causes the wall to disintegrate behind her. What this place," and Arthur gestured helpfully, "teaches is how to live safely. There's no pressure to use your gifts." The implied 'they're not who you are' wasn't extremely subtle.

Shatterstar nodded, letting Arthur's words and implication sink in. He reached for a pastry and picked at it idly. He wasn't ashamed to have powers, but he didn't tie his identity to them either. He wasn't a mutant after all, even if Benjamin was. He would always be something else- more like an alien from another dimension.

"You're a lot smarter than most people credit you for being," he says finally. "Not me, of course. I could always see it."

A delighted Arthur held a finger to his mouth conspiratorially. "Now don't go telling everyone that. That's my real superpower. I might have to reconsider my offer to teach you cool tricks if you do."

He wouldn't reconsider, of course. Yet much like expectations, always good to keep people guessing.