[indent][b][u]February 28th, 11:32PM Kasimir Castle, Gotham City[/u][/b][/indent] “Are you sure you don’t want me to send Vincent to find him?” [color=crimson]”It’s fine, Malcolm can handle himself. Vincent is better put to task here - has he begun prepping the extra security?”[/color] “Of course, Miss Kasimir.” [color=crimson]”Excellent. I’m going to go start up the Reporter Buster.”[/color] “Please don’t, Miss Kasimir, that could be considered threatening.” [color=crimson]”What is the point of buying an old WW2 tank if [i]not[/i] to threaten reporters?!”[/color] “... Please, Miss Kasimir.” The desperation clung to Nicole’s words as she eyed her employer, though Zoey for her part had her gaze plastered to her phone - the one that wasn’t embellished with a symbol of Grim. The young woman beside her had the data pad poised, no doubt ready to send missives as needed - or to bid the Kasimir Head of Security to come and talk their mutual boss down from doing something stupid. As though it would help when it came to her sons. … Son. [color=crimson]”Have you already contacted our media contact?”[/color] Nicole quickly buried her nose into her datapad, nodding quickly. “Yes, and I assume Miss Jasper has sent you word?” [color=crimson]”Of course. Everything is taken care of on that end.”[/color] “Great.” A few moments passed, silence between the two women. Nicole occasionally glanced up over her datapad, obviously wanting to say something. Finally Zoey sighed, lifting her gaze to ask Nicole what was bothering her - but before she could say anything, Nicole blurted it all out in a rush. “You’re taking this very well, considering, Miss Kasimir.” Zoey blinked her steel-blue eyes, and after a moment dropped her gaze back to her phone. [color=crimson]”I’ll do better once Malcolm is home safe and sound.”[/color] “Of course, Miss Kasimir.” [hr] [indent][b][u]Meanwhile...[/u][/b][/indent] [color=darkorange]”Ah, Master Malcolm, dignified as ever I see...”[/color] To Malcolm’s credit, he at least [i]attempted[/i] to give his personal butler perfectly unflappable statement something resembling a witty retort… but, well, [i]there was an awful lot of dog between the two of them at the moment.[/i] His ‘pooch’, Gwen-- a mutt of what appeared to be a coywolf and some kinda massive black dog-- had known he was coming home before Sasha’s little Corolla had made it around the turn off towards the castle (as she always seemed to) and parked her keister down in front of the door (as she always did) signalling the other two Kasimir hounds, Buttons-- fuzzy master of begging for table scraps and going [i]too fucking fast[/i]-- and Ker-- the biggest belly-rub slut to have ever strut around on four stubby legs-- to form up beside her (as they always had) to sit and await their mark. They had the boy on the ground and covered in fur and dog-slobber before his hand had even left the doorknob. So instead, all the Englishman got was a strained muffle that [i]somehow[/i] managed to sound bitingly sarcastic all the same. Business as usual in the castle, all things considered. [color=orangered]”Evenin’ Alec.”[/color] Mal finally managed to get out only after removing the overly-affectionate corgi from his face and putting Buttons in a gentle headlock to keep the pooch from continuing to accidentally head-butt him over and over again. [color=orangered]”You would not [i]believe[/i] the night I’m having.”[/color] [color=darkorange]”Does it have anything to do with all the death threats you and your mother have been receiving via telephone for the past two hours?”[/color] The greying east-ender inquired even as he reached forward to help the boy lever himself out from underneath the massive coywolfdog that clearly had no interest in letting the lad go without a furious struggle-snuggle. [color=darkorange]”...And why I’ve spent most of my night off on the roof in the pouring rain with a loaded Barret?”[/color] The Kasimir ward had the decency to pause at that, even as he finally managed to get himself free for a few seconds, only for Gwen to jump up, lock her forelegs around over his shoulders and begin drowning him in ‘mlems’. [color=orangered]”Weeell, I [i]did[/i] nearly get lynched by an angry mob less than twenty minutes in because I dared to mention the weather to some rich lady instead of immediately kissing her ass and then had to take down [i]Discount Enrique Iglesias[/i] on my way out the door soo…”[/color] Mal explained as the big, cuddly monstrosity in his arms finally settled for nuzzling into his shoulder instead of assailing his face with affection. [color=orangered]”...Maybe?”[/color] The two just stared at eachother as the sheer lunacy of that statement hung in the air for a full minute of silence that went undisturbed by even the dogs. [color=darkorange]”Master Malcolm, with all due respect... [i]what the hell?[/i]”[/color] [hr] Though Malcolm tried his level-best to at least [i]try[/i] to be somewhat quiet and inconspicuous with his entrance into the Grotto, the trio of panting, jubilant dogs that had been deprived of his company for over a month and refused to let him out of their sight handily made that a futile endeavour. Why was he trying so hard not to draw attention to himself? Well, part of it was just force of habit- Living as he did and doing what he did made him subconsciously walk with an almost silent gait at all times anyhow… but having had a clear view of his Mum’s heartrate all the way down here made him just… [i]slightly[/i] more conscious about it than usual. The fact that he’d been watching her fuel up and prep a fucking [i]refurbished and clearly modernized M18 Hellcat[/i] the entire time didn’t really help. Zoey Kasimir tended to get a little… [i]extreme[/i] when her kids were involved. ...Well, her kid. This was going to be a fun talk. Clearing his throat to make his presence known (with just a bit of unease that Buttons immediately picked up on and began reassuring him with a few licks to the hand), the boy said only two words. [color=orangered]”Evenin’, Ma.”[/color] As soon as the words left Malcolm’s mouth, his mother did the inevitable and stilled. It was only for a second, but that was all it took. Zoey carefully extracted herself from the the final check ups on the Hellcat, her once pristine white shirt having the cuffs rolled up and smeared with grease. When she turned, her steel-blue gaze falling on Malcolm, something visibly loosened in her posture. [color=crimson]”Malcolm,”[/color] For a moment the relief was naked in her voice, and she abruptly strode forward, the grease-smeared hands falling to his shoulders as she checked him over. [color=crimson]”I shouldn’t even ask knowing you, but you are alright?”[/color] For his part, Mal… well, even though he knew a verbal ass-kicking was inbound, couldn’t help the characteristic little grin that crept across his face as his mother began fussing over him in the usual fashion, as his hands instinctively found his way to hers, giving them a little squeeze. [color=orangered]”I’m [i]fine[/i] Ma.”[/color] The boy stated simply, giving a little chuckle as he gently removed her hands from his shoulders. [color=orangered]”Gonna take a bit more than a pop-star out of his mind on cocaine and magic to put [i]me[/i] down.”[/color] Of course, in all the warm fuzziness of that deeply primordial, instinctual response to his foster-mom’s worries… it took a half-second for his mind to suddenly catch up to him and begin screaming directly into his psyche, though he showed no outward signs of any of the blind panic suddenly firing through his head. His right hand. His right hand which had been in bandages since before he’d even gotten on the boat home… was now holding his mom’s. This was a bit of a bad time to have [i]that[/i] conversation. [color=orangered]”So, uhh… when did we get a [i]Tank Destroyer?”[/i][/color] Mal asked, cool as a cucumber as his hands promptly released hers, or at least went to. [color=crimson]”Five years ago, when those leeches were harassing us.”[/color] Zoey didn’t have to say which incident specifically. They both knew. However rather than linger on it the billionaire had brought her son’s arm forward, insistent though not forceful as she examined the bandages. She muttered softly, taking in the material, the sit of them against his skin, even gently touching it in her investigation. [color=crimson]”So,”[/color] Zoey straightened, looking down at her youngest son and raising the ever perfected Kasimir brow that her boys had inherited, the one she was always so secretly pleased to see reflected back at her on Malcolm’s face. [color=crimson]”These are a few hours old, if I’m correct? Perhaps from before that little party?”[/color] The brow crept ever higher. [color=crimson]”Malcolm Talhaiarn-Kasimir, do I need to assign a [i]bodyguard[/i] to you?”[/color] A low sigh escaped the boy. Omission was one thing, but he would never [i]lie[/i] to his mother. Nevermind to her face like this. [color=orangered]”It’s… not from a fight if that’s what you’re wondering…”[/color] Mal responded truthfully, though still dancing around the subject [color=orangered]”A friend of mine from Orin’s turf took me out for ‘Survival Day’ on the eleventh. It’s like their thanksgiving- Only with more partying and a [i]lot[/i] more alcohol. Makes it hard for even a guy with a brain like mine to remember exact details.”[/color] He paused and bit his lip, trying to find a proper of putting this. Zoey’s eyebrow couldn’t raise any higher. [color=orangered]”And during that I sorta… agreed to participate in an old Atlantean ritual...”[/color] At that, he cleared his throat a little, being just a little uncomfortable. This was probably going to be unpleasant. A crimson eyebrow twitched. [color=crimson]”Malcolm,”[/color] Zoey began, slower and more delicate than was probably necessary. Her eyes flicked, searching her son’s face before she cleared her throat. [color=crimson]”... Did you get someone pregnant?”[/color] [color=orangered]”Wait, [i]what?[/i] No, no, no… [i]God no!”[/i][/color] [color=crimson]”Orin always has so many people hanging off him, I assumed that it was just part of Atlantean Culture! And you know, if you did you could tell me-”[/color] [color=orangered]”I mean, the complete absence of personal space is bu- guh- fffff-!”[/color] Mal growled, sputtered and groaned his way through trying correct his Ma, growing increasingly red in the face. A rare treat, for anyone that actually knew him. [color=orangered]”It’s just… gaaaah!”[/color] The boy took a second to breathe out one long exhale to catch his thoughts. Even while quietly admiring his mother’s astonishing ability to be the only person on the face of the goddamn planet he’d met so far to be able to put him in this kind of state. [color=orangered]”...I didn’t get married. And I certainly didn’t get anyone [i]pregnant...[/i] It’s just a little... well, it’s complicated. But it’s not anything like [i]that.”[/i][/color] Another sigh escaped Zoey, more than a little relief tinged there. She didn’t think it had to be said that she would adore any grandchild brought to her… but she’d at least like to [i]meet[/i] the mother first. Giving one more gentle pat to Malcolm’s hand, Zoey withdrew. [color=crimson]”Sit with me please, Malcolm.”[/color] The redhead pulled over one of the mechanics benches strewn around the room -where else would she put a tank than with the rest of the cars after all? She sat, crossing her legs and humming thoughtfully as her gaze drifted upward, collecting her thoughts. [color=crimson]”Malcom,”[/color] She finally began, the care taken to picking her words obvious, [color=crimson]”I know I haven’t exactly been a perfect mother. That I can be overbearing, and I’m sure you’ve found nearly all of the trackers I’ve slipped on you, let alone those I just asked you to carry for my peace of mind.”[/color] Zoey trailed off for a moment, clearing her throat. [color=crimson]”But I don’t do this because I don’t trust you, or that I think you’re incompetent. You’re growing into a fine young man that doesn’t need your mother hovering over your shoulder. That doesn’t mean I won’t ever stop worrying over you - whether I know what you’re doing or not. The instant I met you I knew you’d always be in danger’s way. You have the same thirst for justice that I do.”[/color] Zoey paused, raising a hand up to rub at her brow and swipe the back of her hand against her forehead - leaving yet another long smear of grease across her pale skin. [color=crimson]”What I’m trying to say, Mal, is that you don’t have to tell me what’s going on in your life if you don’t want to. I’ll worry over you just the same. I just want you to know if you ever need another person, to back you up or just be there for you, your mother will always be here for you.”[/color] Despite the usual self-control he took so much pride in, Malcolm couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that followed his mother’s words. He suddenly felt… kind of like an [i]asshole.[/i] And for the first time in a long time, at a loss about what to do. At first, he just stood there, clenching and unclenching his fist out of habit as he bit down a little on his lip… then sat down right beside his mother to do exactly the same thing in a new position… with the addition of his other hand now beginning to lightly rap it’s fingers on the surface of their little bench. Then with a little exhale, he did something that was fairly new- Gently looping his arm around Zoey’s shoulder and pulling her into a sort of half-hug with their shoulders touching and her head resting slightly against his (due to her still having a few inches of height on him) as he softly stroked the top of her head. Just as she had done for him when he was a boy. Then, finally there was truth. [color=orangered]”A year and a half ago, when I went under the sea with Vanguard after Orin’s kingdom basically tore itself a new asshole. I followed my mandate; doled out supplies, cared for the sick and wounded, pulled people out of the rubble… all that fun stuff that found it’s way into the news cycle.”[/color] Mal began, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts on the matter with a little click of his tongue before continuing [color=orangered]”...But the longer I stayed down there, the harder I worked the more I… [i]saw...[/i] the more I got involved.”[/color] The boy’s hand fell from his mother’s hair to gently drop down on her shoulder, as his computer-like brain went into overdrive trying to sift through his eidetic memory and put the sensations, the hows and the whys within into a comprehensible sentence. [color=orangered]”Started simple enough at first- Letting Orin know whenever I saw something bad about to happen. That evolved into occasionally defusing bombs left behind by Meraists that clearly didn’t get the memo about the surrender and then, well…”[/color] The boy started again, face screwed up in an almost comical expression as he wracked his brain for a explanation that would at least sound [i]somewhat[/i] sane… before finally slacking as he just got to the bloody point. [color=orangered]”Stuff happened, one thing led to another and at some point I was quietly inducted into the [i]Argonauts-- [b]A branch of the Altantean Special Forces--[/b][/i] under the name ‘Mako’”[/color] At that the boy released his mother’s shoulder and sat up just a little straighter, hands folded in his lap and head facing straight ahead. [color=orangered]”Essentially, I became a weird mixture of knight, cop and commando… and honestly, [i]I was pretty fucking good at it.”[/i][/color] Mal finished up his long winding explanation, slowly unwrapping the bandages around his hand. [color=orangered]”So much so that when I went back down there to actually go to school and wound up back in the thick of it, one of my old teammates asked me to [i]stay[/i] down there- To settle down and make a career out of it. I honestly thought about it, but knew where my place was, so...”[/color] Finally, the boy turned his head to his mother again and offered her his now-exposed hand… with the still-healing brand of a skull clenching a dagger in it’s teeth, surrounded by a band of Atlantean writing topped by the royal trident burned into his palm. [color=orangered]”She decided that if I wasn’t going to stay in Atlantis, a bit of Atlantis would come back with me… and, well, [i]those people love their symbolism.”[/i][/color] Throughout Malcolm’s entire explanation Zoey remained quiet, letting him get everything off his chest. When he finally revealed the still healing mark on his hand however she let out a sharp inhale, her hands raising to cup her son’s, long fingers gently touching the mark seared into his skin as though testing how bad it was. A few moments of silence passed as the older of the two soaked up the information just given to her, digesting and rolling it around in her mind. Finally she raised the hand that had been tracing the mark, pressing her thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of her nose. [color=crimson]”Well. That’s certainly… a lot.”[/color] Zoey muttered, taking in a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, much like Malcolm had before her. Another moment passed. [color=crimson]”I can’t say I’m particularly happy about it,”[/color] The billionaire finally confessed, only to straighten out and look at her son, despite how he continued to stare straight ahead. [color=crimson]”But I [i]am[/i] happy that you trusted me enough to tell me, Malcolm. Bombs, spies, [i]brands[/i] … I was expecting you to get a tattoo to show your wild side in college. Not … participate in a warrior’s engagement ceremony with someone I’ve never met. Is she nice?”[/color] Mal gave a little snort at that. [color=orangered]”Bit taller than you, drinks twice as much, has literal shark teeth but a beautiful smile, three consecutive Pankration championship belts hanging on her wall, an amazing singing voice, [i]and…[/i]”[/color] Mal leaned toward his mother slightly, fixing her with a comically serious expression that slowly melted into a cheeky little grin. [color=orangered]”...If I married a woman like that, ya really think I’d be doing [i]anything[/i] but dancing around the place like a happy idiot?”[/color] Zoey snorted lightly in return, smaller and more [i]feminine[/i] - as much as the action could be. Well-bred manners, and all that. [color=crimson]”I suppose you have me there.”[/color] She noted, before sighing. The laughter that might’ve been building melted off of her, and the redhead sighed as she ran her hand across her face. [color=crimson]”Malcom,”[/color] Zoey began again, pausing to gather her words. It was a [i]lot[/i] to process. [color=crimson]”... Can you at least take a tracker out when you do this? The one that tracks your vitals?”[/color] Malcolm sighed a little at that, but acquiesced. [color=orangered]”Sure Mom, but, well… I don’t think I’m going back down there again.”[/color] The younger Kasimir explained, scratching the back of his head a little in thought. [color=orangered]”I [i]really[/i] had to put a lot of thought into turning that offer down. If I go back to Atlantis and get back to it-- because you damn well know I would-- I don’t think I’d be able to say ‘No’ again.”[/color] A little shake of the boy’s head followed that, followed by a little chuckle as he began to wrap his hand back up again. [color=orangered]”And my place is [i]here.[/i] Always will be.”[/color] [color=crimson]”... I’m glad, Malcolm. Even if you go off and become the next Grim, you’ll always be my little boy. Half-drowned and all.”[/color] [hr] [indent][b][u]Half an Hour Later…[/u][/b][/indent] [i]Beep. Beep. Beep…[/i] [color=crimson]”[i]ORIN.[/i] What the [i]fuck[/i] have you been letting my son get up to?!”[/color]