revivalproject | Indictment

WHO: Absolutely everyone.
WHERE: The diner.
WHAT: A decision has to made about threats to the community.
WHEN: After an attempted murder, a chaotic rescue, and an awkward reunion. Now.
WARNINGS: Nothing yet. Mark it if something comes up because...
NOTES: Structurally, this is a mingle, so you can decide what part of this is actually important to you. What you talk about in here doesn't have to be directly Beck-related, but for details about the incident, further organizing, and if you want to determine what your characters might have done/seen/heard in the meantime, this post is still good!

[NETWORK//text @ everyone]

Come to the diner. We have to talk.
If you don't show up, I'll assume you agree with me because you're incredibly intelligent and graceful. The city of Temba thanks you for your contribution to our justice system.

This was the last thing Tony wanted to do. The diner at least felt familiar, neutral--somewhere he could be in control, without having all of the attention on him. Being able to bask in the attention would have been so much easier. As it was, that felt like he would be inviting everyone to really examine the cracks in the armor. They were here because he had already lost control.

As if that didn't already feel enough like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, Tony found himself standing in a circle of seats that he had arranged, the tables pushed up against the walls, and couldn't honestly say how much that had been intentional. He raised a lip, and looked to Felwinter as though he would have any illuminating insight about productive interior design. He seemed like he wanted to be here even less than Tony did. Beck was his charge for the time being, though, and as awkward as it was to stand in his stupid chair-circle with the pair of them, Tony did appreciate having Felwinter there to keep an eye on their...problem. Even if having witnesses to his restless energy made it all the more humiliating. Felwinter couldn't sit on Beck forever just to make sure he didn't lure anyone else off the edge of a cliff, so they were all going to have to survive a little humiliation.

"I think the coffee's done," Tony declared, with absolutely no idea what state the coffee was actually in and readily moving toward the kitchen regardless. "Do you want one? I'll get you one. Do you do that sort of...?" He was still talking, and what Felwinter did or didn't eat and drink might have otherwise been something Tony pushed him about, but he was already mentally in the kitchen and trailed off as he went, flapping a hand to wave off any refusal of his offer or explanation about Felwinter's digestive situation. Maybe he would just stay in the kitchen and listen, let Beck hang himself.

Tony took a deep breath, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and squaring his shoulders, readying himself for a performance.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Richie didn't laugh. He didn't look impressed though.

"So... He stole your life's work... Which, by the way, you look younger than me so what, in your late thirties? Okay pal. But fine, stole your incredibly long life's work and gave it a dumb name. So you...attempted murder?"

He paused, blinking a little so that could fully digest.

"Look, man. You don't know me well so you don't know that me saying this is like, embarrassingly bad for you. But seriously: are you fucking okay?"

"...Yeah?" Beck gave him a look, like he genuinely didn't see how wildly out of proportion the response was.

"No, this is exactly where I wanted to end up," he muttered sarcastically. Obviously things had gone off the rails somewhere. He was inclined to blame it on the Agrii.

"I meant more like... Psychologically. I mean, far be it for me to present myself like I've got shit together but. Dude. One therapy session. Just like. One. Or some pot? Whatever is easier to get around here."

Richie frowned a little, not sure what to do here but still feeling like he had to do something.

"So, like. Is murder your go-to response for any slight? Dude at the bank denies your loan so you cut his brake cables? I'm just trying to figure out if Draconian responses are just... part of your make up?"

"...Never really cared for it." It was hard to say which he meant, but given the disdainful pout Richie briefly earned, it was more than possible he wasn't talking about smoking.

"Hopefully not any slight, for your sake," he pointed out. "No. It's not a go-to."

"Bro. You're on trial for murder right now. You really think that subtly threatening someone else is gonna endear you to the crowd? Also? I fought a fucking clown with eight rows of razor teeth and giant talons for hands who negged me about being gay. After that you're just not that scary."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back a bit, unbothered.

"Okay. Sooo... Dude took your shit, gave it a bad name, fucked your mom, I assume. Was there like...something else you did before resorting to murder? Like... I don't know... Suing? Or fucking his mom? Working for a competitor? Show your work on this, man."

"I think the guy I pushed into a hole walked out of it with barely a scratch and able to finger me to anyone who asks. People's minds are pretty much made up at this point," Beck noted, looking bewildered at Richie's follow up. "...Your world sound even more messed up than ours."

"Well I might have, but Stark went and got himself killed. And then he left the controls to an army of killer drones to a highschooler. Killing him wasn't even on my radar until I got here."

"Yeah. Maine is a shithole," Richie said dismissively, already moving on.

"Okay. Alright. So... Like. Dude. Why? Guy seems like a piece of shit, fine. But... Like. Why murder? Seriously. Just...why?"

Beck...shrugged. "Catharsis? We go back where and when we came from, it's not like anything we do here really matters, does it?" he pointed out, as though murder was more or less something amusing to pass the time so long as it didn't 'count'.

Richie tilted his head.

"Sooo... You don't need a defense, right? We can cut your head off and dropkick it into space because it doesn't matter. Yeah?"

He let out a low whistle.

"Wow. That makes this whole thing a lot simpler. Actually, before we kill you, can we toss you off the cliff a few times? It's pretty cool Tony lived. We should figure out how that happened. Maybe a wind tunnel?"

"..." Beck's lips drew into a thin line. It didn't seem quite so meaningless when it was his own life on the line. Even if he forgot it all, he didn't particularly want to experience the sensation of death or near death.

"That's different," he said flatly. He knew intellectually it wasn't, but in terms of what he felt inside? Vastly different things.

Richie blinked. He said nothing for a good thirty seconds, just using that time to stare at Beck.

"Okay," he finally said. "You seem like you're probably smart. Book smart, anyway.

"I don't have to actually tell that's hypocritical, right? Could you just sort of taste the bullshit as it came out of your mouth? Do you need a mint? I can get you a mint."

Beck sighed, and glanced away, caught up in an oxymoron he couldn't deny and couldn't explain.

"...he's not even dead," he offered finally, as though that made it all fine.

"...and you know that is despite you, right? This isn't a bungee jumping adventure that went awry, last I checked. And I'm pretty sure you weren't lining up at the blood bank to donate for the cause."

Richie tilted his head, honestly curious.

"You realize other people are people, yeah? Like they all don't want to die the same as you don't want to die. You get that, right?"

"..." Beck gave a vague head tilt. He understood. On some level. But not the same way he gathered other people did. He didn't generally want to hurt others, but it never really bothered him if it needed to happen.

"Do you have a point?"

"My point is that you'd probably catch more flies with honey than with a fucking blowtorch, basically."

This guy was a piece of work. Richie wasn't entirely sure what to even think of him let alone what he figured should happen to him, next. Maybe killing him was the best option. Dude seemed to maybe not be entirely there. But then again, who really was?

"You should really treat other people the way you'd want them to treat you. If you did, you wouldn't be like ten seconds away from being tossed into the sea with concrete around your feet. So, if you survive this, maybe think about that?"

People always said that. Beck tended to view it more as a figure of speech, it felt strange that other people really felt that way. Other people were fine. But they were disposable. Beck was good at acting. Mimicking. Manipulating. But even facing the consequences for his actions he didn't feel particularly guilty.

"People look out for themselves," he argued. They all talked a big game, but in the end they were the same as him. He just didn't lie about it.

"Sure..." Richie hadn't stopped frowning this whole time. Didn't seem like that was going to change anytime soon.

"But people also look out for their friends. Which...means that friends will look out for you if you also then look out for them. See how that can work? If you had more people looking out for you, maybe Tony wouldn't have had an easy time swiping your work? Or more people would have helped you try to get it back?"

Richie shrugged.

"I can't explain to you why you should care about other people, man. But trust me when I say it helps to have people on your side."

Indictment

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