hermajestysfury | 420: Return

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Nothing moves until Sir Nicholas' shoulder is firmly under the heavy weight of the man known as Rojhaz, as Steve Rogers, as Captain America.

Then lots of things happen. The scientists shout, one of them raises a gun, and Sir Nicholas - encumbered by the body of a man much larger than even his broad-shouldered and muscled frame - never the less springs into action. It's a blur, really, as he kicks the man with the gun into the other man before dumping Rojhaz on the gurney, then quickly, efficiently, kicks each of the staggering scientists in the jaw as they attempt to get up.

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"Well... yeah..." When he has a point, he has a point. She could have happily (or, at least, non-screamingly) lived out the rest of her days without the last few... however long it's been. She can't tell.

"Though." She adds, scuffing the toe of her boot along the ground, knocking off some fine-ground glass. "Hard to be quite as afraid of the Gagas, I'd imagine. They don't have alarms, or guns, or bullets, or... things." She suggests, with little flaily hand-motions that are pure her.

"...Where did you bring her from, Fury?" Rojhaz asks, with a look that says he's only holding off their fight for the sake of the girl.

"A place between worlds. I was caught there for weeks, and it took no time at all. Will you sit, madam? It will help with the shock."

She sits, obediently. It's amazing how well-behaved she can be with a bit of a shock to the system. She isn't too sure about Sir Boyzone over there, but so far everything seems fine.

...

She really has no idea what she's supposed to do with herself now.

Rojhaz digs in a cupboard for a couple of moments, then comes out with alternate clothing. It's too big for either the girl or the knight, but what the hell.

"You can't wear that around, Fury. This will do for the time being."

Sir Nicholas...doesn't want to lose his armor. He likes his armor. It has saved his life more than once. However, even a trip through town over Rojhaz' shoulder showed that he sticks out badly here.

She blinks stupidly at the size of the duds Sir Boyzone produces, wondering just how large people are around here and can they not meet any really large people? Especially not any really large, angry people? That'd be great, thanks.

It will be weird seeing Fury in something other than purple armor. She looks over, and he doesn't look too happy about a lack of purple armor either.

Or maybe that's just him being him. Definitely a possibility.

"Don't you have something... more cloak, less tent?" She asks, thinking that a cloak could cover armor (and be swishy, which would go with the pimp hat).

"I'm afraid not, ma'am." Rojhaz says, "Fury's clothing is hundreds of years out of date...and he already sticks out like a sore thumb." The man who was, and will be, Captain America is not a stupid man. He's not even trying to talk Sir Nicholas into shaving.

"I will wear it." Sir Nicholas says with a distinct lack of grace, "Madam, when the chance comes to return you to Milliways, would you be so kind as to store my armor in my room for me?"

If Fury had argued against the removal of purple armor, she would have whole-heartedly given her not-terribly-consequential weight to his side of the argument, ranting (probably incomprehensibly, to the two men involved) about Gagas and Boyzone clones and making your own fashion statement... but alone, she doesn't have much ground to stand on. His request, on the other hand, tells her a number of important things. One, he plans on getting her home. This is something she deeply approves of. The sooner, the better. Two, he isn't going to go back with her. Three, he must plan on coming back eventually, but how long that eventually will be, he isn't saying.

Item number two is terribly depressing. She's gotten used to having someone to talk to (or rant at, as the case may be). She decides to focus on item the first. Frankly, today doesn't need anything besides cheery things.

"Yeah, I can do that." She agrees, nodding. She's gotten good at nodding.

"This is what I do." he says quietly, "This is what I have always done."

Rojhaz says, "This is what all of him does, I think. It was a dark day when this time's Nick Fury died."

Sir Nicholas stands, offers her a small bow, and finds another room to change in.

...

This is going to take a while. Zippers are new and bewildering.

So much for more cheery things, she notes with some disgust, as she's left with Sir Boyzone to contemplate Fury being dead.

Maybe it's not this fury with the purple armor or the pimp hat or the way he persists in calling her 'madam', but.

A Fury. And if they (the anomalous 'they', because she still doesn't know why the world erupted in violence as soon as they went through the door) (though hanging around with Nick Fury might have had a lot to do with it) can kill one Fury... odds are favorable that they can kill two.

She settles for giving Sir Boyzone her best 'may all your dangly parts rot off and you can go die in a fire' glare (her glares are eloquent) before pulling her knees up to her chest and waiting for Fury to come back.

There's still glass shards on her boots. Idly she works on brushing them off without getting them stuck in her fingers.

"Even this world was different then." Rojhaz says. He's been glared at by worse, "There was a man who was...I don't know if you know the word mutant?"

(Elsewhere, Sir Nicholas is contemplating using a knife to make lace holes for the strange trousers.)

Humph. Even her glares don't work here. This doesn't improve her mood at all.

"Freak, you mean?" She isn't trying to be mean, but with the wide-spread use of genetic control and plastic surgery, there aren't mutants in the general population. At least, not ones with any major physical changes.

"Not exactly." Rojhaz explains, "There used to be people who could do things nobody else could...Sir Nicholas would call them witchbreed, we called them mutants. One of them went insane and decided to destroy the world. The other mutants only fed it...so the heroes who were not mutants sacrificed themselves to weaken it enough that it could be killed.

"Nick was in the first wave. Everyone died, ma'am. Someone, this kid named Richards, brought us back...but there were so many casualties that it just got dark. Not fast. The dark times came slowly, but they came. The other heroes aged and died, or they left for... other places...Most of the rest were hunted down and killed.

"Nick...my Nick...had been taking an injection that kept him from aging. Someone tampered with it."

Some day in the not-as-distant-a-futre-as-she-might-hope, she'll remember this story when listening to Pop, the crazy librarian, talk about the rock-freedom-fighter group 'Queen' and how they were hunted and killed by Globalsoft. Maybe the heroes should have tried a guitar solo - it saved Bri-Anne for three and a half days.

Right now, it's just freaking depressing.

"Why would someone do that? I mean..." She shakes her head, unable to comprehend. "... And what was Fury smoking to take injections anyway?" Fury injecting himself with anything is another one of those 'does not compute' mental images.

"To take over." Rojhaz says, shaking his head, "With the heroes gone, the villains could start to take over...although most of them were also hunted and killed."

Then Rojhaz smiles a little, "Nobody is Fury except for Fury. When his country needed him, he took the injections. It kept him looking a little bit younger than Sir Nicholas does, even though he was well over eighty when he died."

About then Sir Nicholas exits, looking as grumpy as can be expected from someone used to tailored clothing wearing clothing far too large for himself over a bandaged arm. (He did figure out the zipper.)

We are all thankful Fury figured out the zipper. Fury is probably the most thankful of all, though, since she certainly would have had something to say if he hadn't figured out the zipper, and that something to say certainly wouldn't have been appropriate from a teenaged girl of his time.

She brightens preceptively when he comes back, though how much of that is because he does look a little ridiculous in the over-large clothes is hard to say. (Probably not much) But still, she does feel the need to add her two cents. If life with the Gagas couldn't kill that instinct off, nothing can.

Well. Nothing in her experience.

"There is entirely too much killing going on in this world." She huffs at the pair of them, not at all realizing that some of the killing going on has been done by the two of them. She still hasn't clued in that those scientists (never mind anyone else) back there are not going to need a medic any time soon.

"Yes." Sir Nicholas says, with a grim nod, "There is, madam. It is not an appropriate place for you. Shall we see if any of these doors will return you?"

That brings out a worried little frown, because while she whole-heartedly is behind this plan of getting the hell out of this insane asylum of a world, she's worried about Fury. He's hurt, and the only other person here is Sir Boyzone, and... alright, so her staying is probably more of a liability rather than anything else, and she really really really doesn't want to see any more fighting ever, and he'll probably get on a whole lot better once she's gone, but...

She worries. Even if there isn't a single blessed thing she can do about it.

But she nods, trotting out the skill she's gotten good at. She wants to go home. So she gets up, brushing dirt (real or imagined) off her dress (and there's blood on her hand still, Fury's... and there's still glass on her right boot, bother).
"Guess we should, yeah."

It takes several moments of opening and closing doors, to the extreme bafflement of Rojhaz, before one of them opens to the sights and sounds of the bar.

Now there is gaping from Rojhaz. Give him a moment.

"Go, madam. I shall seek you once I am settled into this world." he says, not unkindly, "You were brave this day; in the face of something you ought not have needed to know." Armor, gloves, and trousers are folded and handed to her (he keeps all his weapons), and he touches the top of her head in a light blessing, "Thank you."

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