Will Vega, Jr. [ Junior ] (
androit) wrote in
diversified2016-06-05 11:27 pm
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[ psl ]
WHO Will Vega, Jr (
androit), Felix Bakar (
ambibionic)
WHAT guess who just saw X-Men: Apocalypse and wanted more evil, power hungry Oscar Isaac (hint: it's us)
WHEN About usual timeline for these two. 2106, Junior is 26, Felix is 28.
WHERE Start at the bakery, work our way from there
WHY read: what
Every now and then, it was easy to forget what he really was. Not that it was a thought that ever left him, but an instinct you cold live through without acknowledging. Like breathing or walking or getting up in the mornings. His power was delicate and difficult to comprehend — not that Junior allowed himself to slack on maintaining control, oh no — which meant that he would be better off letting it rot while he lived his own simple life. His powers had nothing to do with who he was or what he was capable of. Even if sometimes it made things a little more convenient than not.
His day was like any other, just working in his bakery and considering what he would need to restock, where he would need to meet up on interviews for part-timers and everything in between. He wasn't worried about his status, not even with the quiet murmur of mutants on the rise in the area getting everyone into a tizzy; some poor teenager had grown into their genes in a way that was hard to ignore, and that left a sour taste in everyone's mouth. Even though his own mutant puberty hadn't been so noticeable, it had been a disaster nonetheless. It was more than enough reason to keep his head down through the panic and confusion, the gossip and sensationalization.
The store was empty at the moment, blinds pulled down in the harsh afternoon light leaving only the silhouette visible from the outside, and Junior still had some things to get done. Glancing at the door to make sure no one was coming in, he twisted his hand and the broom started its work across the floor. Dirty to clean. Maybe he could have pushed harder and forced the shop to clean itself but there was a sort of simplicity he enjoyed in watching the effect he could have, making it more mundane than awe-inspiring. Like this, he could pretend his power was something banal like telekinesis. He could certainly approximate plenty of different things if he thought long enough about what forces acted against each other; as long as nothing was accomplished in a true neutral fashion, Junior would usually mimic it.
And considering that for every action, there was a reaction, well... he had plenty of room to work with.
Glancing to the door once more, he quickly shoved the broom back into the corner with the wave of his hand and got back to tending the counter when he saw someone approaching. Easy, simple, nothing to worry about. Just another day. No indulgence here. Better to save the rest for after hours, probably. Maybe never. "Hey, uh, welcome. Anything I can get you?"
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![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
WHAT guess who just saw X-Men: Apocalypse and wanted more evil, power hungry Oscar Isaac (hint: it's us)
WHEN About usual timeline for these two. 2106, Junior is 26, Felix is 28.
WHERE Start at the bakery, work our way from there
WHY read: what
Every now and then, it was easy to forget what he really was. Not that it was a thought that ever left him, but an instinct you cold live through without acknowledging. Like breathing or walking or getting up in the mornings. His power was delicate and difficult to comprehend — not that Junior allowed himself to slack on maintaining control, oh no — which meant that he would be better off letting it rot while he lived his own simple life. His powers had nothing to do with who he was or what he was capable of. Even if sometimes it made things a little more convenient than not.
His day was like any other, just working in his bakery and considering what he would need to restock, where he would need to meet up on interviews for part-timers and everything in between. He wasn't worried about his status, not even with the quiet murmur of mutants on the rise in the area getting everyone into a tizzy; some poor teenager had grown into their genes in a way that was hard to ignore, and that left a sour taste in everyone's mouth. Even though his own mutant puberty hadn't been so noticeable, it had been a disaster nonetheless. It was more than enough reason to keep his head down through the panic and confusion, the gossip and sensationalization.
The store was empty at the moment, blinds pulled down in the harsh afternoon light leaving only the silhouette visible from the outside, and Junior still had some things to get done. Glancing at the door to make sure no one was coming in, he twisted his hand and the broom started its work across the floor. Dirty to clean. Maybe he could have pushed harder and forced the shop to clean itself but there was a sort of simplicity he enjoyed in watching the effect he could have, making it more mundane than awe-inspiring. Like this, he could pretend his power was something banal like telekinesis. He could certainly approximate plenty of different things if he thought long enough about what forces acted against each other; as long as nothing was accomplished in a true neutral fashion, Junior would usually mimic it.
And considering that for every action, there was a reaction, well... he had plenty of room to work with.
Glancing to the door once more, he quickly shoved the broom back into the corner with the wave of his hand and got back to tending the counter when he saw someone approaching. Easy, simple, nothing to worry about. Just another day. No indulgence here. Better to save the rest for after hours, probably. Maybe never. "Hey, uh, welcome. Anything I can get you?"
no subject
If it meant sharing something of his own powers with this stranger, Junior was willing to do it. Not that it was easy to comprehend or control but maybe it would be intriguing to someone who didn't have to deal with the fractured truth of it. He took a breath and continued to watch, much less guarded than his fellow mutant. He'd never learned how to be closed, just open and honest and trustful. Knowing what he did of polar opposites, he simply didn't want to fall into the mire of any negatives he could avoid.
"Does it tell you anything?" he asked. "The feeling, or the... rest of your power. Whatever it is. Or do you just have to guess? Or do you even care, to put it better," he added with a forlorn, self-depreciating smile. This couldn't be anything special, he reminded himself. Just a bumpkin running into cityfolk in the grand scheme of things. Someone small who couldn't comprehend the fastpaced life of someone with so much more.