Amaranthine

Nick stayed close to Kennedy, getting a bit of a headache from splitting his focus between watching her back and doing his own scan. He could feel a twinge of apology float across their link, but sent back the best 'no worries' he could muster. He was scanning in his Altered sense, but linked to him, Kennedy could do that, and do empathic brush checks. In the middle of a very on-edge military installation, it would pay to be double sure before they made any moves against someone some of these soldiers had thought was a friend.

It wasn’t like they could be particularly subtle either. Both of them were stunning, albeit for entirely different reasons, not to mention being the only two in sight not in any kind of uniform. Beyond the typical leering grins towards Kennedy and looks of shock towards himself, he’d noticed no small number of gasps of recognition, and subsequent excited conversation. They’d actually had to stop letting people ask for pictures or autographs, because as soon as they’d let one person have one, a line had begun to form.

Even being left relatively alone, the base was a difficult place to search. This really was a hell of an operation. Thousands of soldiers, hundreds of vehicles, accompanied by millions of sounds and smells. A month ago, Nick probably would have just shut down from all the sensory input, but he’d gotten a liiiiitle better at sorting through it. Especially when it came to the scent of old paper.

As he’d noticed, the farther north they got, the more he realized he could always smell it, almost certainly from Winnipeg hundreds of miles away. Once he’d identified that, however, he’d realized he was getting a distinct strain of it from much closer.

Even with enhanced senses, it was slow going trying to track it down. They’d been working their way in the general direction of the scent for a good 20 minutes now. It was distinct now, however, and Nick tapped Kennedy on the shoulder to grab her attention.

CLOSE

REAL CLOSE

“Yeah?” Kennedy asked, hands making the ultrahard material of her staff creak as they clenched around it. Nick had never seen someone look that equally nervous and angry.

YEAH

HOW ARE WE GONNA PLAY THIS

Kennedy breathed out, letting her knuckles flush pink as she released her deathgrip on the staff.

“Gotta be sure. Move up, let’s see how precise you can get with identification before I take a risk with an empathic brush.”

Nick gave her a little salute, drawing a grin from the pretty girl. He sopped forward, down a few more stone alleys, and finally up to one of the larger buildings that seemed to serve as common areas. This one in particular had animated conversation and laughter floated out from the open windows, and Nick heard Kennedy curse.

“Fuck, of course he’s in a rec area,” she said, squinting at the tent wall. It would have looked insane if Nick didn’t know she was looking through his Altered sense, which stone did nothing to obstruct. “Goddamnit, too many people in there, and that parchment aura is too subtle for me to pick up. Better luck?”

Nick had already picked the target out, but didn’t feel the need to rub that in. Kennedy was getting a lot better about practicing with the team’s powers, so making her feel like a novice, even if she was, wouldn’t help.

He directed her to focus in on a man seated around a table, annoyingly filled with other soldiers. Based on the movements and positioning, it looked like it was poker night.

“Okay… yeah, got him now. Shit, though, if we just go in and murk this guy, decent chances we cause a panic before we can explain, but if we try to explain first….”

HE'LL START SHOOTING THE SECOND HE SEES US

EVERYONE ELSE HAS A GUN HERE

GOTTA ASSUME HE DOES TOO

“Exactly,” Kennedy sighed. “Does his base aura mean anything to you?”

Nick…. Squinted? For lack of a better word, at the man in question. His aura without the tinge of old paper was just a light pink spark in his chest, nothing like Nick was used to seeing with Guardians. Also not the polychromic waves he’d seen from that shapeshifter that kept popping up.

NOTHING FOR CERTAIN

BUT DOUBT HE’S STRONG

PROBABLY JUST A REGULAR SOLDIER THAT CAN PISS REALLY HARD OR SOMETHING

“Man, we got real lucky with our powers huh?” Kennedy said, then winced, looking sheepishly down at Nick.

DON’T WORRY

HAVE YOU SEEN WHO THIS BODY PULLS?

ITS AN UPGRADE

“Fair enough," Kennedy chuckled, "Still, how do we grab this shithead without getting ourselves or anyone else shot?”

COULD CALL CAIT

SHE LIKES GETTING SHOT

I THINK

Kennedy, to her credit, actually considered it.

“No,” she decided, shaking her head resolutely. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is he hears we’re in camp. I doubt he waits one second after that to start causing chaos.”

TRUE

Nick rubbed a tentacle beneath his maw. He didn’t really know where he’d picked that up, it was never an affectation he’d had as a human, but now he did it pretty much any time he was thinking.

He examined the building, and realized the table in question was near one of the back corners. Directly above their unaware target was a convenient window.

“Nope, no spades. Go fi-WHUP!” The man didn’t sound much like the Bookkeeper before the tentacle around his neck yanked him through a window, but the second they had him alone, that changed. His placid expressions changed into a bright, self satisfied smile that rested on Kennedy.

“Ah! Granddaughter, so good to see you, I—” His voice cut out with a gurgle and a sharp snap of flesh as Kennedy’s fist dislocated his jaw.

“Christ I hope the real one can feel that,” she said. “Also, shit, its awesome to be able to throw a haymaker and not break my own hand. Take this shithead back to command, I’ll deal with this.”

She jerked her head towards the entrance of the building, where the soldiers who had been playing, apparently, Go Fish with their yoinked colleague were beginning to pour out.

GOOD LUCK!

Nick turned on the afterburners, whipping himself back towards the command building, and making real certain that the Character hit a few walls and corners on the way.

He let the rest of the squad know he was on his way, and as he approached Lieutenant Hale exited the command building to meet him.

The man looked grim as he glared at the battered Character hanging from Nick’s tentacles.

“Corporal Robinson? Fuck, he was one of my squad leaders when I headed his platoon.” He shook his head sadly, then set his face as his gaze turned to Nick. “Guess its not him anymore though, is it? I didn’t even realize he was Altered.”

The Character gurgled something that would probably have been catty if his jaw worked.

KENNEDY HAS HISTORY WITH THE BOOKKEEPER

SORRY ABOUT THE JAW, GONNA BE HARD TO INTERROGATE

Hale nodded, then spoke into his comm, nodded, and looked back to Nick.

“We’ve got an Altered healer on staff. Not Guardian level, but should be able to get this thing back up to talking shape. Follow me.”

Nick slowed to Hale’s pace as he made towards another large stone building with a red cross emblazoned on it. He dragged the formal Corporal Robinson behind him, going out of his way to bounce him off a few rocks. They were taking him to a healer anyway, a few more bruises wouldn’t matter.

The ARMOR healer himself was a bit of a surprise. His bespectacled head seemed tiny sat atop his enormous body, which looked sturdy enough to have been carved from the same stone that made up his field hospital. He fixed Hale with a broad grin as he entered, one that actually competed with Cait’s for warmth. That grin survived contact with Nick, but not his cargo. The huge man rushed over to examine the battered soldier he dragged behind him.

“Hale, what the fuck is this?” the healer said, fussing over the various injuries on Robinson, but taking the time to glare accusatively at the Lieutenant. Hale grimaced.

“My friend here is BREAST MAN, one of the AEGIS Guardians able to detect Characters,” he explained gesturing to Nick and the gurgling soldier.

The gears in the healer’s head worked visibly, but quickly, as he glanced between the two once then scrambled away, surprisingly agile for his bulk.

“My god, Robinson? How long?” The healer asked. Hale looked questioningly at Nick, who just gave a shrug.

“No idea, have to assume at least his last patrol, which would have been days ago. He hasn’t been privy to anything important, officially, but I want his jaw healed up so we can find out what he does know.”

The healer refocused on the Character, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, guess this is one time I don’t have to feel bad that my healing hurts like a son of a bitch.”

Nick hadn’t realized he could go pale, but he felt it happen as the enormous healer moved his hands over the Character, crackles and pops sounding from beneath his flesh as each injury writhed back into health. Finally, his jaw cracked back into place with a snap that was somehow worse than the sound it had made getting dislocated.

The healer clapped his hands together, grinning in satisfaction. He winked at Nick.

“Was gonna go by Bodybuilder when I was in the Guardian potential pool,” he said, then frowned. “Turns out this ain’t much use in a fight though. Hurts too fuckin’ bad. So now I’m just Major Tipp.”

ID TIPP MY HAT, BUT IT DOESN’T COME OFF

Tipp grinned, and held out a hand for Nick to shake. He’d been working on this, and had gotten pretty good at making it not too disconcerting for people, and also not crushing hands. It seemed like a laughable concern as he gripped Tipp’s massive hand, but unless those muscles were truly supernatural, they could crush like marshmallow without Nick even noticing.

Held tight in Nick’s tentacles, the Character finally stopped screaming.

“Good GOLLY gosh, that hurt!” The Bookkeeper said through his puppet. He shivered, glaring at Major Tipp. “Horrible bedside manner as well.”

CAN YOU ACTUALLY FEEL THAT? Nick asked, hoping the answer was yes.

“In a sense. Note that I wouldn’t be telling you that if it was something that could help you. I am far too elevated to be distracted by such trivial things as pain.”

GOD YOU ARE HARD NOT TO KILL

“Go ahead! Save us all the trouble. I was considering having this puppet slit its own throat anyway. When the ARMOR grunts say no one tells them anything, my word, they really mean it.” He finished with a placid smile, aggravating enough that Nick had to take a firm grip on a tentacle that was getting away from him.

“How did you replace Robinson?” asked Hale, unwilling to exercise patience.

“Easy enough, but I won’t give you details.” That smile remained fixed, taunting. “The next one could actually be useful!”

NOT WITH ME HERE

NOT WITH KENNEDY

“Ah yes, my dear Granddaughter,” he said with a wistful smile. “Please, do let her know I forgive her for her outburst. Her frustration is understandable, if juve—”

The Character scattered to paper around the tentacle that had found itself buried in its eye socket. Hale cursed, but looked resigned.

“I don’t think that was going anywhere. He was probably right. Just saved us some fucking time.”