Fresh Meat [Past] (Kylan)

[Vash Zwingli]

It was rather strange being back in Russia…it had been the better part of two weeks since his return and so many things had happened. It seemed as if Vash’s father had everything set up for him upon his return. Quite literally speaking.

This was to be some sort of test…wasn’t it? Vash’s teachers had determined him in control enough of his….abilities that he’d be able to return to see his family again. And so his father needed to test this, or it least that seemed to be what was going on now anyway. He was supposed to be in charge of the containment and management of the mutants that were to be bought and sold. That was…well that was a risky thing to give someone who was…well….cursed with mutant like abilities charge over. Vash knew all too well that if he failed then he’d end up there too, even if he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t a mutant, well not like the rest of them. No he wasn’t born as one…it was what that one servant they had when he was little did to him. They were the person to blame, and that was why what Vash had done to them was justified. Did they really think they could curse the family and then expose their only biological child as a mutant?! No, no they had to be rid of.

Right?

Well, no matter what logic Vash and his father had put into it, it didn’t change the fact that the look of pain and fear the mutant had during their last moments haunted Vash’s dreams…if they could even be called that. Electrocution was never a pleasant way to die—he knew that and his teachers had drilled it into his mind. Not like he needed it really as his established fall back for controlling it was to direct it back on himself with his gloves that he’d constructed. He’s experienced his own electric shocks more than a few times, and several large enough to burn deep cuts into his skin where the wires attached to his wrists. It had hurt…more than anything he cared to experience but he was doing this for his family. He just needed to pass this test and then maybe his father would look at him like he used to…before all of this happened...right? That was all he had to do…was pass this test and run the Underground—as it was called here.

Run the Underground and move back to Russia.

Russia…

Vash was finding it much harder now to live here and well…be happy than he had the first time he had moved here with his family. The land was so flat, flat and grey. There were forests, but nothing vast like the Black Forest or the Forests that covered the mountains he missed so much. The entire city was grey, the people were grey. You couldn’t trust a thing anyone told you, whether or not they were supposed to be trustworthy people. That sort of thing didn’t exist here it seemed. Moving here is what had caused all of the problems in the first place anyway, right?

After being in Switzerland for so long, Vash was having a hard time trying to cope with the change in culture and just…the people, it was driving him mad and it had actually made him started to feel…lonely again. Maybe he would see his sister soon though? He hadn’t had a chance to see her yet because of all of the politics that he was currently having to deal with. But now that was in the past, at least in theory—since he was starting his work today after all.

Ah yes, work.

The car stopped just outside of the town hall—where he had been informed that he would meet the mutant that would take care of everything for him and show him where things were.

“Mutants already…lovely.” Vash couldn’t help to mutter to himself as he had the car open for him and he stepped out of the car with his briefcase. When he had heard that he had almost insisted on a human coming to meet him first…but he figured it best to not make a fuss, and well he wasn’t exactly sure that a human would be any better. He was going to have to keep his guard up either way, whether it be dealing with a human and their sly means of trying to get under your skin…or whatever this supposed tamed mutant would try to pull.

Allies are just people waiting to run you over while using you to help them do it.

That’s what Vash’s father had told him, and he’d managed to succeed in every aspect of life so far, so he had to be correct with that.

Succeed in every aspect except having a normal son to follow in your footsteps.

Vash had to remind himself of that, as he always did. He was a mark of failure to his father…and he was giving him the chance to prove him wrong on that, and Vash had to take that…he needed to show his father that he wasn’t just some monster like the rest of them…and that he could still carry the family name and maybe one day, just one, his father would be proud of him again.

But either way, Vash knew he would be alone this time. If he messed this one up then there is nothing his father could do for him—and well nor would he, why would he do anything for his son if he turned out to be the very monster that you told the city you would protect them against?

Oh the irony of the fact that his father was one of the leading party members trying to keep the mutants under control and Vash turned out to be one himself. Then again, his father’s political views were why they moved here in the first place…people in Switzerland didn’t take too well to the idea of treating the mutants as the monsters that they were told to be…and so they left to where they could make better profit.

Switzerland, his real home and the only place he’d really felt safe...maybe he’d be able to go back there when this was all done, after all if he accidentally revealed that he wasn’t entirely…human there, there wouldn’t be as much of a fuss about it. He really would be safe. And it was the only place he’d managed to make a friend….well…one he couldn’t seem to keep once they’d moved, but there was no fixing that now was there.

Get your head out of the clouds!

Vash took a deep breath to try and clear his head and set up his necessary mental walls as he waited just outside on the steps of the town hall for this…mutant. He hoped that they could at least manage to be on time, as it had proven to be his driver had been rather enthusiastic with the speed so he was there a bit early, as he noted by the clock. As much as he didn’t really mind waiting a bit, he knew that he should expect to be waited on, not the other way around—and so it should aggravate him at this point.

Or was that it?

Vash was never going to get used to this whole Russian culture thing…it was all so strange.

Really he was just wanting to go back home and lock himself in his room so he didn’t have to worry about being scrutinized under the public eye. But here he was.

Waiting.

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 479 Tags: Vash Zwingli Notes: nwn

B y nature of his position, when Kylan was not out on contract or being called upon by the government, there was little for him to do. He may have freedom not granted to other mutants - however it was of a limited sort. What books he was allowed were dry. He could move about the city if he so liked, even without the presence of an escort if it was a busy time and he wore his chipped hairclip. There was an allowance he was given to spend on what he liked within reason. For Kylan this usually meant visiting cafes. When he was not people watching with a cup of coffee he could occasionally be given other, more menial tasks than what he was really kept around for. But, they did fill his days. And occasionally they could be interesting. Informative. There had been talk of the new director for some time. There always was when someone new was appointed, especially when it was in that sort of position. The usual talk had ensued. His name, his background. What people could gather from sightings that were told and retold a good three to five times by the time they had reached someone Kylan could overhear. When Kylan was directly spoken to on the subject he was mildly surprised. More so when the reason was given: he was to be the one to give the man a tour of the government buildings, the city, whatever he needed. The government of Arkadiya really must have been understaffed that day. That, or there was something beneath the surface to this. Someone they were trying to tell Kylan by giving him this sort of seemingly throw away assignment. Whether it was something so meaningful or not Kylan would have to decide for himself once he had finished it, he supposed. Either way he could do to pay attention. Learning the personality of those in power over himself and his friends was always beneficial if not simply the smart thing to do. “Director Zwingli?” Kylan said, coming upon the man standing on the steps of the building he’d been told to come to the night before. It was an easy enough name to pronounce. That could be thanks to his own family heritage, or the nature of his power and how much it relied on the spoken word. He had dressed in a dark gray coat and modestly patterned scarf. They were normal enough clothes for any average citizen that he could be easily confused with just that, given that he was also apparently well fed and cared for. Apart from his clip and given tag he had to keep on him at all times when he was out there was little to point towards his being a mutant. It seemed in his best interest to quickly dispel this, however. “T-28000, Kylan Thomassen.” there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Vash Zwingli]

The details of the mutant that was to report to him here had been granted to him…well, rather late for his liking as it seemed that they had been really poorly organised outside of the control of his father who had initially set this all up. He knew that his father had wanted him to meet with a mutant first, and there could have been countless reasons towards it. One of which included the fact that he knew his father well and he liked to play with fire—in particular in his testing of his son’s skills and well, self-restraint. It had always been that way and that was also how he worked his politics. It was to the point, as a matter of fact that he knew countless supporters of his family could consider them borderline reckless. However, that wasn’t really the case—no his father knew how to play his cards very well, almost so much so that it scared Vash, but none the less he respected him and held him in extremely high regard for being able to do so.

Another possibility would be that this would be some way of showing him what he was to deal with, or well the extent of control over the other mutants he should like to obtain as he knew that the ones who worked for the government were—at least on the surface, extremely obedient and docile.

Regardless of the reason for him meeting with a mutant as opposed to a human, the lack of organisation in this regard was simply unacceptable and that would be something he knew would be in his obligation to correct.

He had received a photo and the full profile of the mutant he was about to meet and so he knew who to look for and what powers the mutant had—should he try anything. He’d been assured there would be no risk of that, but it didn’t change the fact that he would have to watch out for it, especially if he were to protect his own secrets on the matter.

It didn’t take long for the mutant to show up—at least he seemed to be on time and know the required schedule. He could see the chip in his hair and it didn’t take too long to find the tag he wore on him just as the picture had pointed out. It seemed like he’d been treated very well, as had he not received the picture beforehand he wouldn’t have expected the mutant that he was meeting to blend right in with the crowd—which did seem to (thankfully) be at a bit of a low at the moment. He supposed this calmed his nerves a little as…well…while the other wasn’t hiding; it wasn’t like anyone would notice anything odd anyway. It was also a bit of a relief to hear a non-Russian voice, which was something that he had struggled with even when they had first moved to Archadia, Russian was something that he struggled with and preferred to use English as much as possible when not German or French. Still he knew very well not to let his guard down in this city…or country for that matter as he would have to play these games very carefully in order to not screw something up, and he figured that all of the government owned mutants were the ones to watch out for the most, as they had the practice of lying and self control, and possibly picked up on the manipulative skills of their masters.

Yet another thing that Vash was a little…unaware of, was how exactly you addressed a mutant from the government, as they had always been strictly prohibited from entering their private home or would be quickly dismissed from any room that he was in during a conference with his father. The other mutants he had come across were the ones that his parents owned personally—and well those ones he trusted the least due to his encounters with them, and would dismiss them as quickly as he could simply because he couldn’t stand them to be in his room or within proximity to him or his sister.

So, he merely mimicked what he would have done back home and held out his hand to shake the others. But, at the very least with mutants he wouldn’t have to worry about the formalities as much since he didn’t expect to have to show them such respect, even the obedient ones—so he didn’t feel the need to explain why it was that he didn’t remove his gloves when offering a hand shake.

“I’ve been informed that you know the coffee shops around here well, I suggest that we get the introductions out of the way there as opposed to standing outside of city hall for several hours.”

Well, really Vash was just extremely drained from the amount of travelling he’s been having to do over the course of the past few weeks and he hadn’t had a chance to make some coffee this morning prior to leaving for this meeting. He also believed that communicating with a mutant in a public enclosed area first would be what a human would think to be the safest thing to do—as much as he despised being in an area so congested with people (partially to do with the fact that he was still nervous about losing control, for that an isolated area would be much better.) However he had to play the role of human so he would do as he had to, particularly since he had declined the offer of personal security—which he figured was the norm for the Underground Directors due to the politics associated with being in such a position.

But really, he just needed coffee if he was going to make it through the day without getting a headache.

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 366 Tags: Vash Zwingli Notes: You said coffee that's +5 points already lol

I t may not have been obvious in his expression, but Kylan felt a minute bit of surprise when a hand was offered out to him for a shake. He had heard that this Director was not only new to his position but new to the area of government in general. Those types often started out rather standoffish of mutants in general, not wanting to touch them if at all possible. From what he’d noticed only those that had felt the power over them for a period of time had the confidence in their own position to be even that casual with mutants, or at least with the ones that worked directly for the government. How interesting already. Some bit of a smile came up when Kylan shook the other’s hand, hearing the mention of coffee shops. That certainly made more sense now that he was called specifically. “Yes, Sir,” he said for now, simple as he also wanted to get into a coffee shop as soon as possible rather than stand out here and talk. Kylan had only managed to squeeze in a bit of a cup before he left that morning. If he hadn’t had something he doubted he would even be this cognizant yet. “There’s one just at the end of the next block. This way,” he gestured in one direction before he began walking. Kylan was perhaps a bit more at ease than most other mutants were with humans, but that did not mean he didn’t watch and know how to act beneath that casual face. Before you make a move you should usually explain why in case they are jumpy and unsure of you, but make it as relaxed as possible so as not to rouse any suspicions in that regard either. If you are to be in any kind of leading role do not walk in front, you only do that when you are being escorted in cuffs or prodded from behind. Walk beside the one you are leading. Wait until they make the first move if you must. Make every movement as obvious and yet as innocent as possible. It was a bit like walking a very, very thin tightrope. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Vash Zwingli]

Upon shaking the mutant’s hand, Vash could feel himself growing tenser in his shoulders and his stance grow rigid. He was been, admittedly concerned with what might have happened if he had made direct contact with the mutant—as he had been warned that the electrical charge in his own nervous system may be particularly sensitive to those with mutant powers. It made sense really, a sort of magnetism or cathode-anode reaction with the mutant genetics acting as the cathode, which would allow the electricity to react a little bit stronger when attacking mutants. Luckily, nothing happened though. That didn’t exactly stop his weariness however; as he could tell that this one was good at keeping his emotions intact and borderline unregistered. Whether that was intentionally or not, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew that a poker fact like that made a good liar.

At the same time he was relieved to see that Kylan did seem to be obedient enough and well, know how to do this sort of thing without much difficulty at all. Well then again from what he’d heard very few mutants were allowed the same level of freedom this one was, and he was only allowed such due to the fact that he had been so obedient during training. That didn’t stop it from seeming odd just how well the other blended in, every other mutant he’d met had seemed to have been something else—as if they really were just animals.

Were they really just like everyone else too? Or were there a select few that managed to gain some sort of humanity over time from learning from them and working for them?

No.

No Vash couldn’t afford to think that way, not with his position and not with what he had already done. That would lead to guilt and guilt would lead to hesitation and ultimately ending up getting himself thrown in the underground too. They were merely playing with his head—it was a test, a test to see whether or not he could really distinguish himself from these mutants that he was supposed to be controlling.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be suspicious of Kylan’s possible real motivations for being so obedient, he’d have to keep an eye on him but at the very least he seemed to be relatively pleasant…and well…normal.

He met with Kylan’s pace easily—also able to tell that the other was restraining himself slightly in his pace. Vash had no doubt that possibly standing directly in front of him would be interpreted as an insult by the government, or at the very least leave the mutant’s back unguarded and thus open for punishment if anything went astray.

Finally getting to the coffee shop—he inhaled the scent of the freshly brewed coffee with a little bit too much eagerness, oh yes he definitely needed a cup or two. He sat down at the table and was glad just to know that he’d be getting his morning coffee in a short moment.

Flipping through the menu briefly at the different coffee drinks he looked up at Kylan and looked him over more closely this time while waiting for the server.

“Tell me about yourself.”

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 454 Tags: Vash Zwingli Notes: GOT ONE UP EEEEEY

T ell me about yourself. As innocent and friendly as that question would sound in most situations, an ice breaker in new business groups in a comfortable enough setting to allow such conversation, it was a very different matter in the case of mutants. Hearing such a question from another mutant could have mixed intentions. Knowing the background and therein possible weaknesses of another mutant could be used to gain favor from the guards if you played your cards right. Such weaknesses could be used to prey on the weak – something not foreign to the underground. At times yes, such sentiment could be genuine among fellow mutants. There was a level of empathy that could be found in those from similar situations. And no matter what, there was always some sort of similarity between the backgrounds of mutants, if only in the way of being separated from family and their life prior. Hearing it from a human… had an almost finer line between tipping to either side of possibility. From contract owners more often than not, from what Kylan heard, the question was posed as a way to puff up the human’s sense of pride in helping those less fortunate than they. The more pitiful your new pet is the better your own karma as it were. Government employees were an especially double edged sword to hear it from. If one complained about their treatment since their entering into their ‘care’ then the mutant was deemed ungrateful for whatever privileges they may have, possibly even argumentative. Depending on the intelligence level of the worker, however, speaking too glowingly of your treatment could look like a type of brown nosing attempt to gain more favor. This could also lead to some repercussions. They had only just met, leaving Kylan not entirely certain as to the meaning behind it coming from this Director Zwingli. His gaze stayed on the other, for a moment after he had spoken, before they turned down to the menu. If he didn’t at least make a show of perusing the options then he would appear too comfortable and spoiled in his positon of privilege. But he could not look too long, either, or else he seem picky and spoiled in that regard. “I was born here in Arkadiya to Norwegian and Icelandic parents. For a time after my birth I was blind, until I received surgery. I can still read in braille and Norwegian, as well as a few other languages I have been taught since my entering the care of the government at fourteen. Due to the nature of my mutation.” Mutation being the key word use as opposed to ‘power’ or ‘ability’, which could be taken in a positive light. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca

[Vash Zwingli]

THESE ARE THE DAYS WHEN I HATE THE WORLD HATE THE RICH, HATE THE HAPPY, HATE THE COMPLACENT. TV WATCHERS, BEER DRINKERS, THE SATISFIED ONES. BECAUSE I KNOW I CAN BE ALL THOSE LITTLE HATEFUL THINGS AND THEN I HATE MYSELF FOR REALIZING THAT. BE SAFE, BE SAFE.

639 WORDS Kylan Thomassen TAGGED Vash is soooo getting in trouble for this notes

Vash had, in all honesty merely been curious about the way the mutants were and were treated in the government. He knew nearly nothing about them, as those ones were not the ones who exactly made public headlines. Sure, a government owned mutant could theoretically be bought and sold like the others, however they were much more costly when compared to the normal mutants—and thus typically weren’t. There had been stories of the underground though, and of the sorts of things that happened with the mutants there. And well, they were a different sort altogether. He’d heard about the fights they had hosted for humans to come and watch and well, just how violent they could get. He’d also heard stories about how…medieval the underground was, and the smells that came with it. That was somewhere that he knew he’d have to visit, as much as he didn’t want to. He knew he needed to know every mutant by name, weight, height, and mutation in order to survive and make sure…well that none of them would be able to “sniff him out” so to speak. However he also wanted to know more about the person that was in front of him in particular. As well, Kylan had been trusted with meeting him here and well…introducing him to his post, and that was something indeed. It seemed like he also knew very well just what to do when speaking to a supposed human official as well, his gaze stayed on him and looked down at the menu for a perfectly un-extraordinary length of time. It was perfectly, and completely uninformative and something that few just did naturally. No, it was, at least to a degree intentional—it was the sort of thing his father would have taught him about. The amount of implied information he was able to extract from Kylan’s response to his question was just as clean cut. It was the perfect response from a mutant—short, a bit of a sob story and otherwise unimpressive. Truly, he might even be able to beat Vash at his own game. “I read all of that on your file….it seems to be rather thorough.” He frowned, trying to get a read on him somehow. “At the moment, you’re my business partner…since you’re going to be showing me around. I need to be able to trust you enough that I’m not worried about being attacked on my first day of work.” He sighed, his father would frown upon this level of honesty but he still wasn’t exactly sure of what to make of this place—he still had absolutely no idea about Russian customs. “I’m sure that sort of casual conversation isn’t common between mutant and human…but I can get away with calling myself a foreigner.” He smirked a bit as he slipped into German—figuring that the Norwegian would understand him even if he didn’t directly speak the language. Yes, he was possibly slipping up a bit, but he wanted honesty—and the whole fear tactic never worked well for him unless he was pointing a gun somewhere. At the same time, he was slowly starting to think about an idea of gaining allies to support him in the event that he did slip up and someone found out about….his own mutation. Someone that would be less likely to have an issue with said mutation and some sort of credibility within the government itself, even if it was just a mutant. “I suspect we’ll be seeing a fair amount of each other anyway if this hints at anything…I need to know who I’m working with.” A waitress came over after a few minutes and asked for their orders—evidently also not really noticing that Lukas was indeed a mutant. Vash ordered before turning to Lukas to await his response.

deltra of gangnam style

[Kylan Thomassen]

Word Count: 459 Tags: Vash Zwingli Notes: >_>;;;

A s if it were an actual hand – or something worse and more akin to the sorts of things the government used in such experiments – Kylan could feel the probing that Vash was setting out. The glances over him for any sign of emotion. Anything telling at all. It was as if the other was beginning to grasp at straws for anything not what was exactly expected of Kylan that would not require any sort of reprimand. As to why this was… Kylan was unsure if he could place it just now. Vash Zwingli. He was proving to be an unknown entity, not like the sorts that Kylan had come upon before in the government. There was a clear sort of anxiety that wasn’t often seen in those with high positions. Those sorts usually had a level of arrogance and belief in their abilities to control mutants by the sheer power of their ego as opposed to the guards who believed so by their actual strength. Those who were more given to such levels of discontent around mutants were civilians, or newer scientists, newer lower ranking workers. This one did, however, despite his discomfort, still speak to Kylan in expectation of something more than a walking map with controlled other functions. He had shaken his hand – even arrogant officials had not done that. Kylan stared at Vash long, gave him a minutely questioning gaze until a moment after the waitress arrived. When he did turn away, it was a short glance up at her. “Dark roast, black please.” At the very least he felt he was allowed to order as he wanted now – as opposed to stomaching something else, something deemed safer and more ambiguous. He’d be getting his dark coffee as he liked it. “If you read my file, sir,” Kylan began once the waitress had left with their orders, “then you should know the precautions taken against my attacking you. Should this device detect the specific tone when my mutation is used,” he tapped his hairclip, “the authorities will be notified immediately. All of my privileges are revoked at that moment.” This did not mean he would be tossed into the Undergound most likely. It was more feasible that he would simply be kept indoors still within the government buildings should he be needed. Also… would be very likely to be returned to the scientists and researchers for a time. “That would not be beneficial.” It took him a moment of thought, connecting the words in an actual sentence as opposed to his strong known vocabulary, but he was able to respond in German for the other. He knew enough to be able to understand it spoken in small bursts. Pronunciation was easier than forming his own sentences. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue

by worldie for becca