EVENT ★ BACK TO THE FUTURE

[futurologists]

BENDED TIME As outlined in the OOC post, things start to slow down and grow quiet in Oska for a few days as the bugs crawl away and slowly disappear. But then the cocoons hatch. Fully grown temporal insects claw their way out of them, each about the size and temperament of raging bulls. They come out far more aggressive and eager to fight, are are willing to take on anything that moves with jaws and claws alike. Except, of course, another insect — when two of them encounter each other, they enter into a mating dance and then slip away into another dimension, leaving behind only the temporary ghosts of years gone by. If you can’t find a way to pierce that thick shell to take one down, better find another one to pair it off with instead. Just try not to get bit while leading them around and find yourself suddenly 5 years old again. The insects aren’t the only thing going on in Oska, though. As it turns out, unicorns really hate this adult form of the temporal insects, and will start kicking their way out of their stalls in the stables to get at the insects in an attempt to impale or trample them. According to Uruz they’re gallant warriors, but not always quite cut out to take on a bug, and can easily get themselves hurt or killed. She would really appreciate recruits taking a moment to recapture any stray unicorns they may come across and leading them back to the stables. Try to avoid any insects on the way, or you’ll find yourself suddenly fighting insect and irate unicorn, which is no one’s idea of a good time. The lake is getting more active, too. All the fighting has woken up something in the depths of it. Dark red tentacles sometimes creep up onto shore — and don’t worry, this time they don’t belong to a sea goddess. The tentacles don’t attack unless attacked, and can in fact be quite agreeable. Nodes along the length of them act as primitive eyes, which see well enough to interact with anyone nearby. They’re also all a little peckish. Toss a tentacle a bit of food and watch it curl around and ingest it using tiny mouths on the underside. It might even be willing to play a few rounds of fetch or slap a bug into the sky for you if you put it in a good mood with a morsel of food. The senior ALASTAIR members can be seen out and about and doing their part, too. Uruz and Dagny fight as a team, centaur and elf, sometimes fighting back to back and sometimes as mount and rider. They’ll stop and lend a hand, but the cats are a little less generous. Cherenkov and Crowley fight inseparably and use magic and science in deadly combination to ward off and destroy the bugs, but can usually only be seen darting on their way from one place to another. They have a lot of magitek to repair in the destructive wake of the insects. Pomarr, neither as senior nor as invested in actively picking off the bugs, offers shelter near a tentacle-free portion of the lake, calling down storms to toss away bugs for her and anyone in the vicinity. OOC NOTES This log spans a week ICly. Characters will find themselves beginning to understand each other again as the bugs first vanish, as the effects of the cats’ work on the magitek pays off. The translation problem will be completely fixed by the time the cocoons hatch. All of the bugs will have been killed or shipped off by the sixth day, leaving the last day before their departure to the next mission blissfully relaxing. Any temporally misplaced recruits will be back to normal by the last day, as well. A reminder to anyone still texting: the texting feature of magitek jewelry operates based on thought! There are no physical keyboards, recruits merely think the message that they’d like to send to another recruit.

Comments

def open.

[tirejacking]

A.

[Well, this sure isn't Gotham City. The room Jason finds himself in isn't familiar to him, and priority number one is figuring out the whys, hows and wheres. A thorough search doesn't offer him many clues as to where he is, though it does give him a little about its usual occupant. (Not insignificant, but not immediately enlightening, either. A leather jacket hung on the bedpost that's made to fit someone with broader shoulders than him. An odd red helmet. A small collection of firearms that he spends a moment frowning at before leaving them be, lest he alert anyone to his being here if they aren't already.) He makes sure to close the window behind him as he ducks out of it onto the ledge outside, making sure the coast is clear before he does. He makes double sure to remember where it is in case he needs to come back.

Luckily, he's still in full vigilante regalia—mask on, utility belt included. Fishing a grappling hook from his belt, he gets an anchor and starts climbing.

First things first—get the lay of the land. He's more of a city boy than a castle one, but rooftops are always a good place to start. (Which means he can't be the only one to get the idea of going for elevation.)]

B.

[Maybe you're minding your own business in the castle. Finally found yourself some peace and quiet in a bug-free room. When all of a sudden, someone comes swinging through the open window like a brightly colored bullet, bouncing heels-over-head off the floor to clear a broad wooden table when his momentum puts him on a collision course. He's somewhere approaching his mid-teens, and upon realizing he isn't alone, his eyes go wide beneath the domino mask that's covering them.]

Whups.

[Not good. He doesn't hesitate any longer before reaching in to grab for an arm and pull the poor sap over with him, throwing an arm up to hold his cape up between them and the glass. The why becomes clear very quickly. No sooner do they clear the vicinity than a bug comes skittering in after him, crashing through the sliver of open window and shattering the glass in its wake when it's too big to fit through. Somehow, the cape manages to deflect the lion's share of it before he drops it down—apparently it's tougher than it looks.

A little like it's owner, really. Brightly, by way of a hello—if not an apology—]

Somebody call for an exterminator?

C.

[He tries not to let it get to him, the what ifs and the what would he dos. Because yeah, Batman isn't here, Dick Grayson is done wearing the cape, so it's just Jason Peter Todd—Robin—against whatever the hell is going on, here. No orders, no answers, no one to rely on to figure this out or dig him out of trouble if he falls short. But he can handle that. Between jumping in to distract the big old creepy crawlies from unsuspecting recruits, he's doing his damndest to get up to speed.

Which means casing the castle. Ducking through the dungeons and pausing to study the reflections of the mirrors in the viewing room, the odd noises coming from the mechanical room, the miles and miles of books in the library. And if one doesn't bump into him there, he can be found listening in when he catches bits of conversation—about ALASTAIR, about the insects, about the recruits themselves. Or maybe he's ducked in the wrong window—since the locks on the doors in the living quarters are pretty magically stubborn, it's the easier way to get around. Is this your room? Whoops.

(IE - Want something else that I didn't cover?? lake tentacle monsters, unicorn herding, many and varied methods of snooping and bug squashing, etc. feel free to wildcard me or hit me here with an idea/setting and I'll write you something more specific! Normal flavor Jason also available on request, just let me know.)]

a

[onethousen]

[ Having similar ideas didn't mean they were all good ones, a fact Chihiro isn't spending much time ruminating on as she runs the precarious angled top of a roof of the castle, heading for a joint in the wall. Some three meters behind, one of the bugs skitters after her.

It's hard to say if she's confident in what she's doing or not; Chihiro is so focused on running, slipping and hitting the roof with her hands and knees, scrabbling for purchase and launching forward again with only a brief glance back to see her pursuer is still impossibly stubborn on her tail, that she doesn't seem to be aware of her own precarious positions.

She hits the joint of the roof with the next, a smaller rooftop over a window providing a means for her to scramble up and haul onto the wall connecting the next section of castle. The bug slips as it tries charging, more intent on driving her away than staying well anchored, and its own clamoring back to the apex of the roof gives Chihiro time to haul herself up to the higher section with her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

She has the strongest sense of deja vous, of having climbed to tall places in desperate bids to help someone, but the set-up is wrong, the situation so different that it's only an echo of that memory coming to mind. Echo or not, it was part of what gave her confidence to be out here in the first place. She's managed scary balancing acts before.

Pushing up from her knees to her bare feet, Chihiro starts running again, jumping from the abrupt end of the wall she's on to another ledge across the way, arms flailing. She just barely catches herself after slipping back to the edge. Holding on through sheer determination, Chihiro starts hauling herself up gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the sounds of clacking claws on stone from nearby.

Rooftop Climbers Anonymous Meeting begins in three, two, one...! ]

she's so cute, kill me.

[tirejacking]

[He's got a story or two on her to start, which means he can see the whole daring escape as it unfolds. (At some point, the bug in pursuit gets delayed by a well-placed batarang. The carapace is too hard for it to penetrate and do any damage, but it's distraction enough to divert attention and scramble its senses for a second while she stumbles, and he's too far away to do anything else about it.)

And just as the end seems to be near, a shadow drops down above her to block out the light and wrap ten gloved fingers around her wrists to haul her up onto the ledge. The shadow in question is, in fact, a boy a little older than her. Dressed a little strangely, but utterly at ease with the altitude.]

Woah! That's a close one.

[But don't worry, he's got you. Even once she's settled on the ledge, he doesn't yet let her loose. They've got maybe twenty seconds before impact, so there's just enough time to poll the audience about what's to come.]

So, what d'you think? Up or down?

[Don't worry about the "how"s, that's his department.]

don't i just have to wait for jason to re-age up to red hood again

[onethousen]

[ She's one for the birds before she knows it. When the light's blocked from up above, Chihiro's heart skips a beat. She holds her breath, expecting, in that moment, she might be facing her last.

Instead she has two hands, one strange mask, a cape, a riot of colours, and a boy: a teenager, older than someone (who? Haku? who, in this world, is he?), new and unexpected, someone she holds on to in turn as she keeps herself breathing as even as she can. ]

Yeah.

[ "Close one" indeed. ]

Thanks. Um...

[ The bug's already proven itself a climber, and going up hits a limit at some point. She has one hand on him in turn, fingers twitching, gripping. Going down gives them more ground to cover, even just on lower walls and rooftops and walkways. Unless he can get them high enough, fast enough? She doesn't know his limits, his abilities, his anything except that he's here.

Working with what she's got? This audience polls for the greater number of options. ]

Down.

rip this cute cr, it'll be fun while it lasts.

[tirejacking]

[Either one would do, really. Might as well let her have a say in it. Fishing for something at his belt, he ducks his head briefly to flash her a grin that lands somewhere partway between daring and reassuring. Maybe a little too much of the former to be entirely the latter, but she seems like a tough girl.]

You got it! Going down.

[And not a moment too soon, because here comes their company, skittering point blank at them like a runaway train. He hooks her arm around his neck and gets another around her waist for good measure. She's pretty small, so it ought to be enough. But just in case—]

Hold on tight.

[Because they're going down. Kicking off the rooftop, punctuated by the snap of a grapple, and falling full speed until they reach the end of the tether and swing like a pendulum across the castle grounds. Down toward the battlements below.]

now here come the words

[onethousen]

[ The grin is reassuring, for the fact it's more daring than anything else. She doesn't quite return the expression; her eyes are slipping away even as she keeps her tenuous hold on Jason, expecting and waiting for their insect adversary to join them, scrabbling upward and stabbing out with both arms. Angry, but not voracious. She's noticed that shift in behaviour.

He pulls her arm around his neck, and Chihiro locks her elbow, bringing her other hand around to take hold of the one around his neck. He may have an arm around her waist; even as he's kicking off, Chihiro is pulling herself in close. Her heart is pounding in her chest. She refuses to close her eyes, seeing the ground rushing up, kicking one foot around as she truly clings to Jason.

It's a feeling she's experienced before. The fall, clinging to the neck of someone important, a friend who was hurt, injured by — someone. Faces flash by in memory with no names coming fast enough to fill in their blanks. The colours are all different, between there and now; only something in greens and whites and almost-blues fell with her then, into a darkness that went on for a child's version of forever. Dark bodies and white eyes staring up from indefinable depths, reaching upward even as she was borne up again in serpentine twists, swinging in a far shorter arc than the one they're swinging in now.

She holds on, and for a moment, she's so sure that if she were to see the eyes of her would-be rescuer, they'd be green; a green that was at times warmer or more distant, one more genuine than the other. It's a passing thought, just as the ground is a passing landscape beneath them, and she lifts her feet and bends her knees so that when they're at the lowest point she's ready to hit the ground running, should the need be there.

Haku. His name was Haku. She keeps seeing him, having that sense of a person, something tied in with her parents. A danger. A problem Chihiro had to fix. Her lips press into a determined line. It might be projection; she's in a dangerous place with so many others also facing those dangers. They have problems they need to fix, regardless of how well suited to the task they may be.

She'll handle this. She'll have to thank this older teen, but only after she's managed not to slow either of them down.

Behind them, the insect clatters, high up and distant and unable to keep up with the speed of their descent. Appeased, it lifts both forelegs into the air, rasping them against each other as a commentary to the world of its own dominance and suitability as a strong mate. Perhaps one of the other insects would hear. At present, it wasn't either of their concerns. ]

[tirejacking]

[Of course, Jason's entirely ignorant to all the deja vu that this little trip may be causing. Which is just as well, because he's busy navigating them through the air. Always trickier when you've got a passenger. Changes your whole sense of balance—and you've got to hold on, because this trick definitely does not come with safety nets.

They touch down on the roof near the living quarters. A few stories below them, the courtyards are visible, as is the lake in the distance. But as of yet, no more bugs. Yet.]

Not bad. [Going down, he means. Haven't yet managed a proper lay of the land, so it was as much a guess for him as it was for her.] I bet old bug juice up there will have trouble following that act.

[onethousen]

[ Would he really want to know what's going through her head?

Chihiro glances around, taking in their new perch and then twisting to get a look back at the insect they've left behind. It waves its forelimbs at them, an aggressive show of territorialism, but sprouts no wings or sudden spider powers to send it swinging along after them. ]

...

[ Giving in to immense maturity, she sticks her tongue out at the insect several stories above. ]

At least they can't fly. Ah — [ glancing up at his domino (???) wearing face or dominoes wearing face if we like pizza ig ] — thank you. How did you do that?

[tirejacking]

[He'd probably be a lot ruder if he were in charge of the spiteful gestures, so this show of immense maturity spite just kind of pings as amusing. You tell 'em, Chihiro.]

Practice, mostly. And this.

[He holds the grappling gun up to spin it around a finger in a flourish before clipping it back at his belt where it belongs—among quite a few other similarly-themed peripherals. At least he was grabbed with his gear still intact. Really helps with the getting around.]

Flying's still a work in progress on our end, too. [Planes notwithstanding. Despite the flying-animal naming schemes. Speaking of which, he takes a break from scouring the greenhouse below for signs of buggy life to look back over a shoulder at her.] I'm Robin.

[Might as well get friendly if they're going to be making daring escapes together.]

[onethousen]

[ What a show off? Granted, Chihiro finds it impressive considering he has enough clipped to his belt that he seems ready for just about anything. He's lucky that capes and where they are now makes it hard for her to be any snoopier than leaning forward to try and get a better look at all his gear. Either way, she's impressed. ]

That's way more ready for action than I feel like most of us have been. Do you go building climbing a lot?

[ Why? ]

It seems like a really specific thing to get good at...

[ Though somehow it makes more sense when he introduces himself as a bird. Ah, of course! (... No, no real of course.) She gives him a small bow of her head. ]

It's nice to meet you, Robin-san. I'm Chihiro. Um... [ Glancing down, movement from inside the greenhouse attracting her attention, she steps closer. Yeah. Hey, Robin, nice to meet you, love to hang out. ]

I think we're still doing better then they are. Though they're a little too good at climbing.

[ Still, it's not from below they need to worry. A hard thump-thunk of an insect crashing down in an uncoordinated flailing of limbs shows the victorious survival of another member of their team (or at least someone who worked out of Oska)... while leaving them with a bug to contend with once its legs were back under itself. Chihiro starts, reaching out for Robin and gesturing with the whole of her hand. ]

There! Can we get over to that rooftop?

[ Better decide fast, because the panels under their feet are starting to crack... or... slide... the footing is starting to go. ]

[badnewsboy]

[ well, he can wing it. he's been winging it ever since he got here.

luckily for Robin, Loki's fairly good at being someone who needs to be saved. while he had his own agenda in ridding the parameters of insects, it doesn't mean that he hasn't gotten himself into trouble. readily ducking beneath his cape as it's raised, he balks a little. ]

I do hate to break this to you, but don't mortal exterminators exterminate bugs, not collect hoards of them?

[ but really, it's only half sincere. Loki's already put on his thinking face, his green eyes darting to the nearest door. ]

I think I've got a plan. Er—one that isn't just running.

[tirejacking]

[He actually looks a little struck by the sudden semantic interjection. Wow, everyone's a critic. Don't give him a bigger complex about filling in these pixie boots than he already has, bud, now is not the time. To his credit, he rallies quick.]

"Bug bait" just doesn't have the same kinda ring to it.

[Despite being a little more accurate, right now. It's a process. He's working on the exterminating part, probably. Step one is not getting chewed on, because the both of them are extra bite-sized at the moment, and he doesn't have the firepower to breach the carapace on that thing on his own. The bug in question scrabbles clumsily on the hardwood floor for a second, struggling to get its footing through the scattered shards of debris. Reaching for something at his belt, he takes the chance to look away and follow Loki's line of sight out the door. Whoever this guy is, he says he's got a plan—maybe. Not the best kind of odds to play, but what's life without a little adventure?]

In there?

[That's going to involve at least a little running.]

[badnewsboy]

[ okay, while exterminator sounds like some kind of early 90s direct-to-video kung-fu thriller, bug bait takes the cake as a made-for-TV early adolescent coming of age. Loki ponders it over, decides he wants to settle somewhere in between for both their sake, before he looks at the bug, keeping his crouch in case he needs to dart straight to his feet.

even when he's not getting into trouble, it's trouble that seems to find him. ]

We need more bugs! [ not exactly the first thing anyone expects him to say, so he backs up as the insect gathers itself, his voice getting a little more desperate. ] Er, trust me on this.

[ now they both have to get out of here unscathed. Loki takes a few shuffling steps back, kicks an abandoned crate into the bug and makes a sudden sprint for the door, pulling his hood down so it doesn't fly off. ]

[tirejacking]

[What the hell. First he complains about the bug, now he wants more of them. Make up your mind, guy.]

Are you pulling my leg?

[Because it sure sounds like it. Not even in a "that's just crazy enough to work" kind of way. But the emphatic argument (trust me on this) seems to have been enough to start. Despite the bitching, he bolts out on Loki's heels posthaste, and he keeps on them after they're clear of the room.

Well, mostly on them. Loki bought them some time, so he takes the extra seconds to shoulder the door shut behind them, swiping a sturdy battleaxe off a nearby suit of armor so he can jam it under the doorknob. (The suit of armor seems to take great offense to this, but they're long gone before it really matters.) It won't hold for long, but it's something. Catching up, he calls out—]

The dungeons were full of 'em waiting to hatch.

[Maybe a few got loose since he was down there.]

[badnewsboy]

Nope! No leg pulling! Not even figurative legs meant to be pulled!

[ despite having a sour taste for it, Loki's good at running. he runs while getting out of trouble, he runs while getting into trouble, and he runs when the inevitable shit hits the fan. thus he is long, gangly, and made for it. they reach the other side of the door, and Loki gets a good look at him.

a costume? mortal heroes wore costumes. ]

To the dungeons! [ he announces it like there's a giant insect pounding on the door where they had left. there doesn't seem much that gets into his way as they run, leaping easily over chairs and taking the long way down tables to create the maximum amount of disturbance. ]

You have a cape—I heard that capes are cliche!

[ just casual convos as they run, k. ]

[tirejacking]

[Mortal heroes wear costumes. This would make sense, because he's definitely both of those. (Mortal, and a hero.) Robin is a legacy thing—the design of it wasn't his doing. But hey, he worked hard to inherit this cape fair and square. He shoots an incredulous glance over his shoulder as he vaults a fallen chair. Despite learning the ropes fast to fill in where Dick Grayson left off, Jason's no born trapeze artist. He's even better on the ground than he is in the air.]

Says who, the vigilante issue of Vogue?

[It's got some utility to it. But mostly it's a drama thing. Nothing says Dark Knight like an oppressive blot of black coming down from the sky. And if it works for Batman—]

[badnewsboy]

Do they make those? I bet they make those!

[ kicking a table lengthwise to hinder whatever may eventually come through that door, Loki's trusting Jason's sense of direction on this. dungeons didn't scare him, he'd been down in the bowels of Asgard plenty of times. he's seen those in crazed despair, along with those who stared at him in steady satisfaction in what they've done; these dungeons can't be anymore horrifying than what he's already come across. (not to mention the rise of the Serpent, but hey, no one's keeping track.) ]

No, but—[ he stumbles down the first stair as they enter the hallway, his hood whooshing as he turns his head to check behind him. ]—I heard the mortal heroes talking when they were in Asgard. They were all a little inebriated, but I suppose as long as you don't trip, it's a matter of preference.

My brother wears a cape, after all.

[tirejacking]

[They...probably make those. What a world.

He'd quickly cased the castle from top to bottom to get the lay of the land, and the basement had been one of the first places he'd ducked into. (Lets be real, people always hide things underground.) He doesn't know the layout of this place well enough to learn every hall, but it's enough to make some pretty good guesses from here. He zigs, then zags, skidding around a corner and ducking through an imposing-looking arch. And downward.

The story has him giving Loki a closer look in the process. Asgard sounds a little familiar. Where does he know that from?]

Your brother?

[Someone he ought to know? The cape and cowl crowd isn't that big.]

[badnewsboy]

[ that was the point.

there were countless Midgardian heroes, and while a vault of former experience might've dug up a memory about who this was, he was not so lucky as to have access to it. (damn that Ikol, where was he?) Thor was famous enough among just about everyone that even the scrubs had heard of him. ]

Thor. You can't miss him! Large, carries a hammer, calls down bolts of lightning to smite his enemies!

...

Cracka-boom!

[ even when he was running for his life, he sounded wistful when he was talking about Thor.

the stairs get attacked two, three, four at a time, and down, down into depths with necessity chasing the fear out of him. he was no hero like Thor, but he could find ways to help. ]

b;

[figureitout]

[ The sweet, sweet sound of silence, of absolutely nothing resembling weird bug mating sounds or skittering legs or gunshots/crashes of lightning/magic noises!! How blessed, how truly fortunate he is, to have found this small room of utter reprieve!! Stiles spends, oh, maybe an entire thirty seconds composing an ode to the room in his head before flopping down on a chair and starting to read the book he retrieved from the library-- a book about basic magic spells.

(Hey, not having magical abilities doesn't mean you can't still be curious of the specifics, right?)

His oasis of silence and solitude meets a very fast, very tragic end in the form of-- ]

... holy shit.

[ ????!?!?!??!!???? ROB I N????

his mental track composes entirely of keysmashing, and so the only sound he makes is a nice blubber of ] hashlgub?? [ before he's being yanked up and there's a bug crashing in through the window like the world's least subtle supervillain, glass shattering and shards flying through the air and what.

No, seriously, what. ]

Dude, I'm pretty sure the exterminator isn't supposed to bring the exterminee with him? [ Never let it be said he doesn't have a remark for every situation, no matter the crazy scale. ]

[tirejacking]

[Look, do you want to get out of here, or do you want to argue about proper bugbusting procedures. Sometimes you've got to improvise.]

Workin' on it.

[Please hold, he's in the middle of something. Adding a civvie to the mix does kind of complicate things—Stiles is now occupying at least a third of his attention, but that's okay, because there's only one bug. First thing he does is to drop down and get boots on the big heavy wooden table he just vaulted over, kicking it over between them and the raging bull of a pest when it starts their way again.

The bug barrels into it, and the table cracks loudly, splintering, but stopping the charge. That's probably not going to work a second time, so hopefully Stiles has found his feet in the meantime.]

[figureitout]

[ But what if both?? Both sounds feasible, right... ]

Well, uh, maybe work- fasteeeeehh--

[ Something very tragic just happened to the end of that poor word as Stiles dives out of the way of the splinters of wood; it seems like the air is thick with dangerous substance flying all over the place today...

He scrambles up, head whipping as he looks from the bug to Mr. Robin to the bug. ]

Okay, any more bright ideas, Bird-man?

[tirejacking]

[It's not lost on him that Stiles goes for the bird references. But first things first. You asked for it.

Despite the splinters flying through the air, this was just enough to buy him time for something with a little more umph to it. And with the table out of the way, he backsteps sharply, reaching for his belt to whip a sharp-edged batarang through the air in a blur. It flies upward in an arc, toward the thick rope supporting the huge old-fashioned wrought-iron chandelier on the ceiling. It only cuts so deep, but the weight of the thing does the rest. The whole shebang comes crashing down like an old swashbuckling movie.

The bug goes down like a sack of bricks, antennae twitching in buggy pain, legs scrabbling fruitlessly against the floor. Much better.]

[figureitout]

[ Well.

Well then.

There are very few things to do when someone performs a move worthy of the best action movies, right there in front of your eyes... which means a slow clap-slash-standing ovation, seeing how Stiles is currently standing up. ]

Wow, dude, that was inspired. Good job! You ever considered joining the Avengers? They might have a spot for you.

[tirejacking]

[Victorious, the batarang lives up to its name and circles back around for him to lean back and snatch out of the air to reclaim. He risks looking away from the pinned bug at Stiles with a bit of a frown while he tries to work out if this is condescension or legitimate praise. (The latter makes more sense, but he's not really used to it as a matter of course.) Besides—]

Never heard of 'em.

[Wrong franchise. Some kind of cut-rate Justice League? B-List Teen Titans? He still can't shake the feeling he's getting his leg pulled a little, here. Though, as he pulls up straight and stows his weapon back at his belt—]

What're they avenging?

[This is probably the important question to ask.]