Chapter Text
It reminded him of the last invitation that Gibraltar had extended to him. An earnest effort to make him open up more. At least, he had assumed so. In the end, it had been clear that Gibraltar had invited every legend to an outdoor picnic of sorts. Revenant had been the only one not to show.
And it had been disastrous. Fingers were pointed. Arguments. Ms. Paquette had still been furious about the betrayal. But as Gibraltar had soothed rattled nerves with food, the ire of many of the legends had settled down. And Alexander remained at the edge. Ostracized, yet too proud to slink off. Gibraltar had attempted to convince him to join in, to share exciting stories from his childhood like the rest.
He had few that he could comfortably share without revealing his identity. Fewer still that he would prefer to share with a mindless collective of vermin. The one tale that he attempted to weave of a childhood pet was immediately shot down and talked over, Silva’s too-excited voice drowning out his calm, droning one. Gibraltar had warmed to the conversational shift immediately. A betrayal that had somehow been unexpected. Too busy trying to support the enthusiasm of the younger legends to consider the impact of neglecting the older one he’d forced to join in.
Suffice to say, it had been the last day that they had been on good terms. An utter waste of his time, and a firm reminder of how despised he was amongst his inferior colleagues. Gibraltar never attempted to invite him out again. Slowly, their conversations also began to dwindle. Whatever test Gibraltar had tossed his way, he had clearly failed.
Walter had been an unexpected diversion. Overtly flirtatious in a way that Alexander found shocking. Cautious when he had spat idle threats on the battlefield. And then, silence. A whirlwind of activity that mercifully ended, a painful reminder of his social isolation. Self-inflicted or otherwise.
His silence, however, had only lasted for a week. Interactions began to ramp up into frequent encounters. Hallway conversations. Unnecessary touching. Casual discussion. Interruptions at his room. At his lab. Before matches. After matches.
If Gibraltar had been persistent, Walter was insufferable.
So when he had been invited to spend time at some outdoor event, he balked. Yet another opportunity for the legends to shout their hatred at him. An insulting isolation. He wanted to reject it outright.
But to do so would demonstrate weakness. His pride would not allow it.
He recognized the selected venue. A familiar campfire spot on King’s Canyon. No food, save for a lone bag of junk food that had already been half-eaten. The fire had been burning for some time, indicating that either he had arrived late or that Walter had arrived early. The latter almost seemed impossible with how spontaneous the Salvonian appeared to be.
Few legends were with him. Bloodhound, to be expected. Their friendship with Walter was unusually close for one who rarely interacted outside of combat. Witt. And Parekh. Revenant surprised him, perched at a distance from the fire, yellow eyes boring into his own.
Walter was strumming his guitar, listening to Witt and Parekh bicker over his metal arm. An engineer’s insight against the insight of a businesswoman that specialized in custom weapons. He would occasionally stop strumming to extend his hand, letting the two of them tap specific parts to complain about Salvonian engineering. His eye drifted away from them, lighting up when he spotted Alexander. “There you are, mate! C’mere, plenty of room to go ‘round.”
Alexander stiffened, reluctantly approaching the fire. He heard Revenant distantly bark out a laugh as he sat down. Witt reacted by nervously glancing at him, shying closer to Walter. The others had no reaction. At least, at first.
“So maybe you’ve got an idea, huh?” Parekh tapped the palm of Walter’s metal hand, looking at Alexander directly. “I think that it’d be bloody great to swap this out with a softer leather. Really stand out, feel more like a tough hand. Maybe get some feedback in there so he can feel something?”
Witt snorted. “C’mon, Ramya, h-he’s got no idea. At all. Besides, you’re totally wrong. That big hunk of metal he’s lugging around shoots fire. Fire, Rams. You can’t put anything soft on that metal hand, it’ll burn up. I bet it gets too hot already. I mean, you saw how much the edge of that tin can is m-ma-melting, that’s.” He huffed. “That’s dumb. Kay? It’s dumb.”
Parekh laughed. “Almost as dumb as keeping it all metal, then. You see where gramps sticks that hand?”
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe some third degree burns will fix that.”
Walter went back to strumming, chuckling to himself. “Reckon you’ve both got fair points. Houndy, what do you think?”
Bloodhound tilted their head, poking at the fire with a stick. “I do not know, Fitzroy. It is your choice of what to do with your body. I see no lasting benefit or detriment to either decision. Flesh is always superior to poor imitations.”
“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re a skinsuit.” Revenant’s insulting jab resonated oddly in the canyon. “If you ask me, rip out all the guts and blood. Maybe he’d stand a chance of winning more than a pity match.”
“Your arrogance is precisely why you failed to defeat us in the last battle.” Bloodhound’s riposte appeared to irritate Revenant into silence.
Alexander realized that eyes were on him. He was expected to answer. “...Metal provides greater resistance in combat, but tactile sensation exists to react to external stimulants. It would be prudent to consider a metal variant with tactile sensors embedded. And a prosthetic to utilize outside of combat.”
“Ha! Dope.” Parekh nudged Witt. “Bit of both, huh? I still think the metal sucks, though. Salvo quality, bound to melt off. Or rip his dick off.”
“Oi! No talk about me todger.” Walter laughed, winking at Alexander. “What about you, mate? Got anything you wish you could get done better?”
An odd question. One which he soon realized he was expected to answer. Socialization skills? The ability to decline such absurd invitations? “Disbursement methods for my gas traps.” Alexander exhaled a breath that he had not realized he had been holding. “They take time to expand, which makes them useless if I have been spotted.”
Witt rubbed his chin. “Yeah, that sucks. You can’t get it to pre-expand either ‘cause they’re huge.” He shrugged. “I’m all out of ideas.”
“You didn’t even try, mate.” Parekh grinned. “I bet a fast-acting metal mechanism could spread right out.”
“Uh, nope. Trap’s burst, remember?” Witt snapped his fingers. “He’s got those canisters! Y-you know, the ones he uh. Kills people with. Those are pretty fast. What about that but bigger?”
“Where’s he gonna hide a canister, up his arse?”
Walter wriggled closer to where Alexander sat as the two began to argue over how to best improve his traps. “Hey, thanks for coming. I know it’s bloody hard to humor an old dog, but I reckon you needed some time out of doors.”