2012-11-01: A Stone Overturned

Players: Connor w/ Special Guest Donald Blake


**After Nineteen years, the truth is finally known, and the consequences of it **

Date: November 1, 2012

Log Title: A Stone Overturned

Rating: PG - For Language

Barnes Academy Temporary Dormitory

This is a small room reminiscent of the kind of cabin one would find on a ship. A single bed in a corner with a small bathroom to one side, and a locker for storage of needed items, as well as a spot on the wall where a secondary footlocker might lock into place. Little in here speaks to whomever is staying, no posters or anything on the walls, no decorations at all in fact.

The bandage over Connor's eye has been replaced with an eyepatch, the area damaged from the repeated blows he'd taken mostly healed now thanks to the application of some alien tech provided through SWORD, though it gives him something of a rakish cast. Bandages still adorn his arms, though it would be hard to tell from how the Barnes-issue gym attire covers up most of the arms and legs. Sitting along in a small dormitory room, the only thing in his hands is a pen and notepad he'd requested, the blank paper staring him in the face.

'My Name is Connor Blake', He begins writing down, 'And I have seen the future. I have seen where this path is leading us, and I can tell you all, it's not going to be pretty…'

Thoughts interrupted by a signal at the door, Connor stands up and moves over towards it, saying into the intercomm chime, "Who is it?"

The screen flickers to life as the other side accepts and he sees a face he didn't expect, not at all. It's his father. His father in the same uniform as the guards and agents he's been surrounded with for the last two and a half weeks. Gulping once, Connor opens the door and steps back.

Donald has never been the biggest of men, three inches shorter than his own son, with a sort of mousey quality around him from the glasses sitting on his nose, to the slight thinner leg that gets shown off in the tight one-piece uniform most active agents wear, complete with the white boots and gloves, and the holster at both his hip, and under his arm. Looking up at his son, the wiry man takes a breath and says softly, "Captain Donald Blake, Agent of SHIELD. Hello, son."

"So that's it?" Coming out with a venom that surprises even the younger Blake a little, and Connor just shakes his head, walking back towards the bed, and sitting down, "Not a 'hello, how are you doing, Connor?' or maybe just a 'Are you allright?'."

The older man's reply comes somewhat stilted, "Son, I've been dealing with a lot since this all started… trying to explain things to your mother and sisters, getting a heli-carrier's worth of paperwork settled to clear them to know half of what I told them… and trying to tr-"

Connor suddenly cuts his father off, and glares, "You know what?! I don't want to hear it! You LIED TO US!"

The pause is added to as Donald takes a breath, and then moves off to one side, and closes the door, "Yes… yes I did. I never wanted to, but I had to. Now that… everything's in the open… there are certain things you need to know. Like why you can't become a SHIELD agent… like me."

Standing up, a child's anger and sadness almost drives Connor to lash out, his hands working into fists as he takes his own matching breath, "You think you can just walk in here in THAT uniform and justify ever piece of bullshit answer you've ever given to a late night and vacation to ME?! Dad, I am not an idiot, and my eyes have been a lot more open than you'd care to admit. I've been around these people before. I've seen parts of the organization."

Donald nods once, "I know. I got the reports. I heard about your friends being kidnapped by Dracula… that Franklin gi-"

Connor cuts him off once more, "Rashmi. Her name is Rashmi. And she deserves a HELL of a lot more respect than 'That Franklin girl'."

The older man stops and looks offended, and then angry before saying with a clipped tone almost matching his son's, "You know what, Connor? You need to take it down a notch. I came here as a way of making up for a LOT of bad things we've had, but I don't deserve you lashing out at me like this. You think this has been easy on anyone? At all?"

It's another deep breath, and Connor looks away, "So… how's mom."

Donald frowns, and then takes off his glasses, "She's taken your sisters to a place in Montana… a ranch that SHIELD has eyes on and in… one of their recovery farms for agents. She's… unhappy, son. Really unhappy. She liked being lied to even less than you did."

"Why?" Is all he can ask, Connor shaking his head once, still not able to look his father in the eye.

"Because." Donald replies, gulping once, and then blinking back tears that threaten him, "Because it was to protect all of you. SHIELD recruited me during the Persian Gulf War, because I was a crack pilot, I could speak six languages, and I was in the top one percent of hand to hand combatants in the Air Force Academy. They needed someone who wasn't on anyone's intelligence radar for a mission. To rescue Yuri Petrovich from a political prisoner gulag deep in the heart of the Siberian tundra. Because when Colonel Nicholas Fury asks you to do something, you don't say no. That's like saying no to Captain America."

No comment comes from Connor, allowing his father to continue, but the scowl on his face speaks volumes for his interest, or lack thereof.

"I didn't know I was going to spend the better part of two years in deep cover, which is why since I was dating your mother at the time, I decided to get married, and then go out for the of the mission. I expected it to just be a recon, or some other flyover they needed a pilot for. I took her to Vegas… it was the only way. She thought it was romantic… but I couldn't forgive myself for doing it." The elder Blake replies, his own hands in imitation of his son, squeezing and relaxing to work the stress out, "Instead they spent a week teaching me how to act Russian, and deposited me in Saint Petersburg with instructions on how to get myself turned into a prisoner worthy of getting sent where Yuri was. And from there, it was up to us to get out."

Closed eyes hide the look of further betrayal from Connor, the young man's body starting to carry a pallor of sweat on it, and his breaths come short. Standing up, he moves over to the small bathroom station in the dorm-style room, and proceeds to throw some water on his face, "So… you left… mom was pregant with me… and then you decided to come back and bring a Russian dissident to live next door as a neighbor. No offense, Dad, but you're really NOT helping your case."

Pushing off the wall, Donald reaches out for a moment with a hand, but then settles it back down, "Connor… I cannot make up for the past… but this is not the kind of life you want. I know Yuri taught you how to fight, but that was to help focus your mind, with all the problems your disorder brought on, he never meant for it to be the foundation for you to become like us!"

That comment puts Connor to laughing, pushing up to stare at his father through the bathroom mirror reflection, his blue-green eyes lit to the point that the reflection sends water-casts over the walls, "You want to compare horror stories, Dad? Fine. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday and graduation year by killing a dozen men in self defense when the Mutant Peace Rally was going on. I have watched my friends be repeatedly kidnapped, abused, put in positions where if someone didn't have the training and drive, they would be dead. I have blood on my hands, and I know it doesn't wash away. At least with an organization like SHIELD, I can do some good in the world."

The anger flashes back into Donald's eyes, "Do you realize what you're saying?! These people have ruined our family!"

Connor turns around, "No Dad… you did that. All on your own. You lied to us, over and over… I don't care if it was for our protection, or national security. You're not the same person anymore…"

Donald steps up closer and glares back at his son, "I have fought threats to this nation that would have made your little mutant school look like a picnic. HYDRA, the Skrulls, AIM…"

Connor ticks back almost without blinking, "Demons, Supervillian parents, a time travelling version of myself."

The older Blake's eyes go wide, "This isn't a game, son!"

Turning back around to the mirror, Connor starts washing his hands again, "Go ask your bosses about what I did in Nigeria last year."

"I am not letting them turn you into a weapon!" Donald yells.

"Too late." Connor replies, "I let myself become the Avatar of War."

The look of shock only registers as a dropped jaw from Donald as he stares, and then shakes his head, "But the reports on the extent of your powers said you would never be able to do that… to pull from your alternate lives…"

"Get out."

Donald puts up a hand, and takes a step towards his son, only to be stopped by the reflection of rage in his son's eyes.


And with that the father leaves, the heartbreak masked under a face of utter calm to the rest of the world, leaving the son to sit back down and pick up the notebook he'd been working with. For a moment, some tears fall onto the cover, and he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, before gulping once, and taking up the pen again…

'I have seen the future. An Alternate future, but one someone seems to be trying to make real once more. I know my sister Ariel is a mutant, like me. I know that if the Sentinels win, and New York becomes a war zone… I will end up becoming a mercenary called Volk. I will be a murderer and a terrorist, and consumed by anger and guilt.'

There's a pause, and he continues to write.

'My uncle once told me that I should never be a soldier, but a warrior. A warrior understands honor and duty over orders, and knows when there is a line, and when to cross it. But another friend taught me that there are some lines that should not be crossed. That we can't have justice in a world where death is so casual a punishment we forget to consider it's true implications. The end of life.'

'I wish she had taught me that before that line was behind me.'

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