The Gym of Theseus

Okay, so, Boon won. Mel was going to the gym. But he didn't have to subject himself to going to the gym *with* Boon (or Melody, or anybody else who would delight in dunking on him the entire time), so he waited until he *knew* they weren't in the base before asking GAIA for directions.

The gym was spacious, well-lit, and filled with all sorts of machines that Mel couldn't make head or tails of by looking at them. He picked one on a whim and meandered over, frowning in thought. Wingnut alighted from her perch on his shoulder and flew over to land on the highest part.

Violet was there already, running around the elevated track that ran around the perimeter of the gym. From the look of things, she’d been at it for a while, the source of a dull, steady pounding sound you could hear just outside.

"Any ideas, pal?" Mel asked, eyeing the machine with suspicion. Wingnut ignored him in favor of pecking the bar she sat on. "Helpful," Mel quipped, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Okay, so, maybe not in our top five plans, here. Maybe should've prepared a little better."

“Twenty…. Five.” Violet did another lap, calling to Mel as she rounded the front. “Hey, Signal--” breathed out without breaking her stride, a bit surprised to see him in here; at this hour, or, frankly, at all. “School - out?” she asked, wondering if perhaps she had lost track of the time somehow.

"*Jesus christ*--" Mel reeled backwards in surprise as Violet called out to him, tripping on the base of the machine and just catching himself on the bar in time to stop himself from toppling over. "You scared the shit outta me, dude," he gasped, probably unnecessarily, his free hand clapped over his heart. "I thought this place was empty! How long have you been here?"

“Didn’t. Mean. To. Sorry,” she grins at him, slowing down just barely.

“Hour and a half --to -- two hours-- give or take?” she added, in another thirty seconds or so when she looped back around the track. “Twenty five-- and one eighth…”

"Yeah, you look real sorry," Mel laughed, leaning back against the machine to watch Violet run. Her presence was a welcome break from puzzling over exercise equipment and he abandoned the effort immediately.

"Damn, dude, have you been running for two hours? You need a hobby, Violet. I didn't realize you were such a jock."

“A little less than two hours!” she protested, as if it made a difference for some reason. Two hours would be off pace, even though she wasn’t pushing herself. “Twenty five and a quarter.”

“And --I guess this -- is my hobby, now?” her responses were punctuated by short delays as she circled the regulation 200 meters. “Twenty five and three eighths.”

She laughed as Mel called her a jock. “No, really. What-- else -- is there to do around-- here?"

"Anything else, Violet," Mel drawled.

“Twenty five-- and a half.”

"Literally anything. Needlepoint. Tie dye. Reality TV. Seriously, I'm exhausted just looking at you--"

“Five-- eighths.”

"--and I haven't even done anything."

“Ha! This is -- mostly just -- a warmup. Stupid. Enhanced. Physiology.”

“Six eighths.”

“Need to do this-- just-- to --really start to feel a burn, you know?” She grinned. “You here looking for Melody-- or Boon? They’re not usually here this early.”

Mel looked horrified. "Christ."

“Seven-eighths.”

"I am so sorry you live like this. I cannot imagine having to exercise for longer than, like, an hour max." He snorted. "That's why I'm here now, actually. I told them I'd go to the gym but if I have to work out with either of them I will literally die."

Violet laughed once, loud, from the other side of the track.

“They can be-- intimidating!” Violet agreed. “Twenty six!”

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. "It seemed like a great plan until I got here and realized I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I don't think I've ever set foot in a gym outside Big High. I had to ask GAIA for directions."

“I don’t know how you can miss it?” Violet asked. “It’s-- pretty huge?” She pushed on, distracted as she tried to contemplate Mel’s situation.

"Listen to me, Violet. I am not what one might call, 'athletic,' or, 'a jock'," Mel said, making exaggerated air quotes. "It has never once occurred to me to even *wonder* where the gym is. I get all the exercise I've ever wanted from roof-hopping, thanks." He paused to watch her circle the track again. "You should come with me sometime. I bet it's infinitely more entertaining than running a circle for literal hours at a time. We can race. If I bring Lugnut, it might even be fair." He grinned.

“What are you-- trying to accomplish?” she asked.

“Twenty six and one… eighth!”

Mel didn't answer at first, distracted by watching her run again. "Are you--how much longer are you planning to run? Like, should I sit down?"

He plopped down onto the seat of the machine without waiting for a response. Wingnut pecked the top of his head and he jumped. "Right! Uh, depends on who you ask. Old Jackal wants me to be a jock, and I'm pretty sure Boon does too. And I could avoid Old Jackal, but unfortunately I *live* with Boon. I think Melody just wants me to be stronger so it's harder to kill me, which, hey, I feel like I've been doing a pretty good job of not dying so far. *Personally*, I would like to get them all off my back."

“Last-- lap!”

She slowed to a walk, as she cools off. “Twenty-six point two one eight… eight!” She grinned. “And *under* two hours, thank you.

“To be honest,” Violet said, draping a towel around her neck in lieu of her traditional scarf, as she headed down from the elevated circuit. “I can’t blame you. I don’t think I’d have been caught dead in a gym, before, either. And jocks are *the worst*.
“But…” she added, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and finally got a chance to look Mel in the eye. “You think Melody might kind of have, you know, a point?”

Mel leaned back against the apparatus, laying a hand over his heart and looking up at Violet with exaggerated affront. "*Violet*. I am *offended*. Do you know how many times I've almost died? At *least*, like, two or three. And yet here I am, still breathing, and with all my limbs. In fact, I have more limbs than I started with. I've got a great record." He maintained his overblown serious expression for a few more seconds then broke, laughing. "But yeah, she's probably right. I like to think I make up for lack of muscle with sheer stubbornness, but I probably shouldn't bet, like, my bones 'n' shit on that."

“You’re the experienced superhero, I figure you know best.” Violet nodded, reaching for a water bottle and taking a long drink. “And I know you’re one of, I dunno, the Tech Gnomes or whatever--” she added with a shrug. “But a whole lot of what we do is really physical. A lot of… Punching and dodging and stuff. I figure being in shape probably helps with that stuff, all else being equal?” She almost added: *plus punching the bad guys in the face is a rush* but caught herself before she did.

Mel nodded. "Yes, you see, that's why I built a very big robot to do all that for me." He paused. "Well, I built a very big robot because I wanted a very big robot and Tiago agreed to help me. But outsourcing all the hard hero stuff is a bonus. Also it's *really fun* to tackle a villain through the wall of a building on a metal dinosaur." He grinned, then his expression slowly twisted into a grimace. "But if I've learned anything from the past couple months, it's that I can't always rely on Lugnut." He paused, frowning. "Well, no. I can always rely on Lugnut. But he can't always be there to be relied upon, because he's very big and loud and--you get it." He waved a hand, then sighed and slumped back against the machine. "So, sure, I'm on board Team Give Mel Muscles. Step one was finding my way here. Unfortunately that's as far as my plan went. I'm not well known for my planning skills." He paused and snorted. "Not positively, anyways."

“Wish I could give you some of mine.” Violet sighed, flexing just a little. For all she exercised, she remained less-than thrilled with many aspects of the Circle's 'enhancements'. “But, OK, so-- strength training. That should work. I mean-- You’re a tall guy, good shoulders, you should be able to pack on some muscles reasonably quick if you put your mind to it, right? Maybe it’d help to think of it like building a machine, only through willpower and that stubbornness you’re so proud of?” Violet winced. *Shit. Tell me you did not just bring up that Melchior-is-a-machine thing.* *Way to go, Violet.*

Mel laughed. "If only I could just detach my arms and put on some stronger ones. Unfortunately, my parents were really dedicated to building the shittiest robot possible. All the existential crises of a machine, all the weaknesses of a human. Like, who builds a robot that still needs to sleep? It's *so* lame." He pushed himself back up to standing, clapping his hands together. "While I'm being lame, though, I'm a fuckin' nerd so I'm gonna run with this metaphor. So: we're building a better Mel-bot. What are our blueprints like?" He gave Violet a lopsided grin.

*Whew.* *Dodged a bullet, there, Park!*

“Well. Dunno. I mean, I don’t know how your system works, right? Nutrition, stress-response, fatigue-- all that stuff could be different. It’s hard to say.” Violet considers. “If you were, you know,” *How do you even say these things without implying negativity?* “More ordinary bio-issue, whatever, trying to build muscle-- then I guess you’d start by making sure you had the right raw materials-- vitamins and proteins, mostly? After that, you’d do a bunch of low-rep, high-weight exercises designed to convince your muscles that they need backup to lift the kind of things they’re being asked to lift.” She wiped the sweat off her brow; she knew this mostly from doing the converse, because those were precisely results she wanted to avoid. “Then repeat the process?”

Mel hummed thoughtfully. "Okay, sure." He ran a hand through his hair. "I, uh… I don't really know how my system works, either, because I… don't use my powers on myself." He shrugged sheepishly. "*But* from what I understand of my parents'... project," he waved a hand, "the goal was to make a machine that functions as much like a human as possible. And they did a good enough job with every *other* part of it that I didn't fuckin' notice until a freak series of events shoved the possibility in my face eighteen years later and I just so happened to also have gotten the precise superpower to be able to confirm it in an entirely unrelated freak accident months prior, so--" he stopped himself and gave Violet a sheepish smile. "Uh, probably best to assume I work like a normal boy until otherwise indicated."
Violet blinked. He had the power to investigate his own system makeup, but wouldn’t use it? Why? *Geez, Violet.* *Hypocrite much? You’re the last one to talk about not wanting to look too closely at themselves.*

He looked around the gym, then made an awkward gesture that was *probably* meant to represent some sort of exercise. "So, I, uh… lift… weights?"

“Pretty much, yeah.” She nodded, gesturing towards the circuit. “You can do some squats, some planks, a little calisthenics too, probably some cardio conditioning--but -- yeah, basically. You know how to use the machines?”

Mel grimaced. "Gross," he said distastefully, then snorted and shook his head. "No clue. I can't even use my powers to figure it out, either, 'cause they don't use power. I'm sure between the two of us we would've figured it out eventually," he said, tilting his head towards Wingnut, "but they may as well be alien torture devices. Which, honestly, I'm willing to bet isn't that far off the mark." He grinned.

“Gross?” Violet arched an eyebrow. “Look, Mercury, if you don’t want to do this, it’s not going to work,” she said, walking towards the machines. “And for the record, the big ones actually do use power. Some of the team-members are a little stronger than the number of steel plates they wanted to rack.” She jerked a thumb towards a bench on the far side, a strange electromagnet array suspended above it. The control dial was festooned with stickers of little chibi faces: Melody, Shade, Boon, Shade-In-Athena.

"Okay, okay, fair enough," Mel said, holding up his hands in surrender. "You got it. Positive attitude only. Excited to be here." He gave her an exaggerated grin and double thumbs up, but dropped it with a snort after just a second. Wingnut pecked him and he stuck his tongue out at her, then turned to actually pay attention to the machine. "Aww, those are so cute," he said, poking the stickers. "Did GAIA make those? Sorry, that's not relevant. I promise I'm paying attention."

Violet rolled her eyes. “But let’s start you off over here with the basic stuff... We need to kinda figure out what you can lift as a baseline, right?” She gestured by way of an invitation: “Take a seat?”

Mel threw himself down in the seat, twisting to study the bench behind him. "Okay, so… I lay down and… do my best to not be crushed by magnets?"

“No, *you* don’t get the big kids table.” She gestured at the much smaller, more ordinary bench next to it. “We’re going to add some weight until we can find out just about what the right challenge is for you, then you’re going to try to lift it eight to ten times. After that, we’re going to do a bunch of other exercises, and then come back and try to repeat it three times, OK?”

"You know, I've had super strength before," Mel commented as he shifted over to the normal bench. "It's one of the weird things that'll just sort of manifest when I get in trouble these days. I bet if you just dropped the magnets on me I could catch them." He paused and shrugged. "Or I'd just get crushed! There's really no way to tell. Far as I can tell, I have no control." He cracked his neck. "But also I bet temporary super strength isn't super useful for like. Building actual normal muscles." He laid back on the bench, shimmying to find a comfortable position.

"So, Violet," he piped up, in a cheerful mood and incapable of shutting his mouth for more than thirty seconds at a time, "where'd you learn the secrets of getting swole?"

“Not a big fan of being ‘swole’ personally.” All evidence to the contrary. “But… some’s programming. Some’s the things you pick up when you hang out in the gym all the time-- You know, honestly?” Violet laughed. “Most of it was my sister,” she said, beginning to place plates on the bar.

“Our parents always said they’d support us with whatever we chose to do with ourselves, but they wanted us to try to be the best at whatever it was we went after. So... for Daisy, she’s had her eyes set on the Olympics since-- well, I think maybe since before I was born.”

Mel's eyes lit up and he popped back up into a sitting position, hooking his arms over the bar. "Dude, you have a sister? That's awesome! What sport does she play? My sister's always been more of a nerd. Runs in the family. She taught me how to cook, though." He grinned. "Well, y'know. She tried, anyways."

“Daisy?” Violet laughed. “She’s a runner. Hundred meter hurdles were her best event.” She got a far-away look in her eye for a second, before sighing. “Guess she’d be in college now?” Violet clinked another weight in place. “Try that?” she offered.

"Sweet! Where does she go?" Mel grabbed the bar and levered himself back down into a prone position. He adjusted his grip on the bar experimentally a few times. "Okay, so I just… up and down, yeah?"

“Yeah. The trick is to maintain control of the thing the whole time, no sudden bursts or easing up. Push up to unrack it, let it down to your chest, I’ll spot you if it becomes too much, OK?” Violet said, taking a position behind him. “Not… actually sure where she goes now, to be honest.”

Mel raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything besides a, "Cool, got it," before focusing back on the bar.

It was obvious from his awkward, stuttering motions that he'd never done this before, but he didn't seem to have much trouble moving the actual weight around. He re-racked the bar and popped back up.

"Easy-peasy," he said brightly, then added, "So, you haven't talked to your sister in a while, huh?"

“Not since, uh…” meaningful pause! “Not since. You know?” Violet gestured at the bar. “How did that feel? More weight next time? Shoulders first.” She jerked a thumb over to an adjoining machine, adding idly: “You’re close to yours?”

"Yeah, I could do more weight, I think," Mel said. Wingnut flew over to perch on the bar. Mel snorted and flicked her, and she flew up to perch on top of the machine instead.

Mel got up and ambled over to the other machine. He eyed it dubiously for a moment, trying to get a sense of how it worked, before shrugging and sitting down. As he did, he said, "Yeah, Cassi's, like, *the* most important person to me. She practically raised me, y'know? But lemme tell you, I know a thing or two about avoiding my older sister."

Seemingly out of nowhere, he added, "Did you know I once robbed a casino?"

“Figures.” Violet nodded while setting weights. (Discursion: “What do you actually weight?”) “A lot of Big Team seems to have a dark and sinister past of one kind or another.”

Mel laughed. "Yeah, fair enough. Does it count as a sinister past if I was on Big Team at the time, though? I dunno. Anyways, it was… May? I told Cassi about it, and she was *furious*. Threatened to tell our parents that I was Bolt--uh, I was going by Bolt at the time--if I didn't shape up and start acting like a hero. I promised her I'd do it." His mouth twisted and he drummed his fingers against his knee. "A week later I broke Smoke out of prison. It was… well, it was a disaster. And I was terrified of how Cassi would react, so I… hid. I moved into the room I kept at base and avoided her calls. I only went back because Lugnut got kidnapped and I was too upset to stay away." He laughed humorlessly and rubbed his neck. "That's not the only time, either. It's sort of a bad habit of mine. But, uh, the point is," he gave Violet a slightly self-conscious smile. "Obviously, I don't know your sister, but she'd probably like to hear from you. At least to know you're alive."

He held Violet's gaze with an earnest expression for a long second, then flopped back against the machine. "I've got no idea how much I weigh, never bothered to check," he added in a much lighter tone. "Your guess is as good as mine."

She sized him up, rather literally. “Six-oh, maybe one forty-five?” She racked about sixty pounds, adding another five because he did do at least some parkour. Initial gains would take him past that pretty rapidly, but you needed to start from a low base and build. “I… uh… don’t think my family would be as accepting,” she said, absently. She’d definitely moved into the room she kept at the base and avoided any contact. “I’m not exactly the girl they remember, anymore.” She nodded for Mel to get started.

"People change, Violet," Mel said, getting comfortable in the seat. "Sure, most people don't have crazy magic shit shoved in their head, but everybody goes through shit and comes out different. The people who care about you adjust. Sure, sometimes it's a big adjustment, but if your family aren't assholes, they'll make it. It might be awkward as hell for a while, but you gotta decide if building a relationship with your family is worth that to you."

He reached up to take hold of the handles. "'Sides, you don't have to, like, dive in headfirst right away. It's like weightlifting. You start with what you can handle and work up to it. And bring a spotter." He frowned at the handles. "Okay, is this… is this one also a push upwards one?"

“I don’t look like me. I don’t *think* like me. In what way am I the sa-- “ Violet exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. Yes, upwards. Different muscle groups. *Push*.”

“In a real sense--”

Rep!

“She’s dead.”

Rep!

“And I killed her.”

Rep!

“I’d rather they get to go on thinking of Violet Park as someone who was good.”

Rep!

“Instead of, you know... me.”

Mel finished his set and dropped the handles with a forceful exhale. He stretched one arm across his body as he turned back to Violet. "You don't look like some kind spooky vengeful ghost to me," he said lightly, then dropped his arm. "But hey, I get it. You can't go back to the way you were before. You don't recognize yourself, and you're afraid the people you care about won't recognize you, either. I've been there. I mean, it's different, because nothing about me *actually* changed except my own perception of myself. Well, and the uncontrollable superpowers, but that's a separate thing." He waved a hand, shaking his head.

"I don't… know the full details of what happened to you, Violet. From what I gather, some terrible people did terrible things to you and then made you do terrible things to other people. And that sucks! It fuckin' blows, dude. But the old Violet isn't dead, because you're still here. And you're trying to move forward. I think you could use all the help you can get, because that's some *shit* you're carrying, dude. And I think your family probably deserves the chance to help you, 'cause I bet they'd want to if they knew." He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re *you*, Mercury. You discovered things about yourself that changed how you saw yourself-- and damn sure changed how you saw your parents. But-- you’re still the same person you were the day before you found out about the robot stuff. Me…” she sighs and shakes her head. “It’s not the same. They… basically erased the girl they loved and wrote me in her place. I feel like my very *existence* betrays them. They’d… probably want to help, at first, if they were told I was their daughter. Might even pretend to be able to recognize me, somehow? Then, little by little, they’d figure out how I wasn’t, anymore. And what I was instead.

“They’d hate me.

“And they’d be right to.

“Lunges. Squats. Curls. And situps, in that order.” She pointed to some free-weights. “Grab a twenty, and do what I do.”

Mel held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. You're the boss." He pushed himself out of the machine and wandered over to the free weights, picking them over until he found one of the correct weight.

"You ever heard of the ship of Theseus?" he asked while he waited for her to demonstrate the next exercise. "It's like a Greek myth thing, but also a thought experiment. Like, these dudes had a boat, right, and all the planks and shit of the boat got replaced with new planks and shit. And philosophers are like, 'but is it still the same ship?' And presumably the Theseus guy told them to fuck off and sailed off in his boat to, like, fight monster or whatever the fuck dudes with boats in Greek mythology do. But I think, if I had a boat, and it got stolen, and then it came back to me but had all these parts replaced with different ones, even if it got scrambled and it didn't… I dunno--drive? Sail?--the way I remember it, and I have to learn how to sail it all over again, I'd just be really happy I had my boat back."

“But the whole point of the Ship of Theseus was to argue that it’s *not* the same ship. Just because you call something ‘The Ship of Theseus’ or ‘Violet Park’ that doesn’t make it the same thing.” Violet lunged, walking him through exercises she could do trivially. “It’s like -- like not being able to step in the same river twice? Because nobody ever can, it’s always different.”

"Okay, but *my* point is that it doesn't *matter* if some nerd says it's not the same boat, because it's still a *boat* and Theseus probably missed the hell out of it!"

She paused for a second.

He wasn’t *wrong* and it wasn’t comfortable. But Violet was good at dodging.

“Is this-- is this about your folks? And what they did to you?”

Mel finished the set of lunges and flopped down on the ground. He sighed, then laughed sardonically. "Now *there*'s an interesting thought experiment. If you take a human being, and you replace every part of it with something artificial, do you still have a human being?" He laughed again, this time with a bitter edge to it. "Except not, actually, because there was no human being to start with. A bunch of supervillains in a lab built me from the ground up. It sure *feels* like I've been replaced, or… invaded, sometimes, but my humanity only ever existed in my imagination. It's like… I stole the life of a kid who never existed, and at the same time my life was stolen by something that was me the whole time."

He grimaced. "Sorry, that didn't make any sense. I try not to think about it so much. That's why I don't use my powers on myself, ever. If I don't… *see*, I can just… pretend I got new superpowers. Sprouting wings on its own isn't so weird in Halcyon City, even if they are made of knives."

“Yes it is.” Violet grunted, putting her foot in her mouth. “Not-- grand-scheme-of-things weird. But if your objective is a bio-identical synthetic so close to human that even he doesn’t realize it? Ten-foot wings are an *extremely* weird design choice. Biology is haphazard, random-- engineering, especially on that kind of a scale, usually makes sense. Either knife-wings are super important to the design intent, or they’re really easy to add on to the architecture. Either one of which has a bunch of implications.

“Sorry. I should-- I dunno.” She had just enough social grace to pivot when she saw his expression. “Being human is overrated. Lots of members of the team aren’t- A-Vis, EliZe, and--” she grimaced herself. “Ugh. But none of that matters, because what you’re pissed about isn’t species-as-such it’s the loss of something important to your sense of self.

“Yeah. That sucks, dude.”

Mel gesticulated wildly. "Yeah! Yeah, you get it! Like, there's nothing wrong with not being human. There's nothing wrong with being a robot! I *love* robots. Several of my best friends are robots! But I… wasn't! Or, well, I was, but you get it."

He blew out a long breath. "And that's the other thing about it that… scares me. You're exactly right--you can get powers by accident. I did, even. But if somebody *makes* you… it's on purpose. And to put it lightly, I don't trust the people who made me." He ran a hand through his hair.

"According to my parents, the purpose of the project was to figure out if a thing like me was possible, so they could build a machine that would make a body like mine for him, because he's dying. And I know that's true. The dying part, I mean. And they also *did* make that machine. And nobody's… *contradicted* anything they said." Mel frowned. "Smokescreen said all the weird stuff--the wings, and the… super strength, and the turning into metal, and the--the manifesting *guns* out of my *arms*, and who knows what else--he said it was all for self-defense. That he had a rough childhood and wanted the kid they were making--uh, me--to be able to protect themself. But…" He made a face. "I can't be the only one that thinks that's a fucking wild way to go about that, right? Like, *really*?"

He shook his head. "I dunno. I mean, they're all a bunch of mad scientists, right? Maybe they just wanted to see if they *could*. I wouldn't have pegged my parents for the type to do shit just because it's cool, but it turns out there's a lot I don't know about my parents. I sure would prefer that over the idea that a bunch of supervillains decided to give their robot a fuckload of weapons for some *other* reason." He grimaced.

Violet scratched her head, wondering if she should move into the next set of exercises or attempt to comfort and support this guy. “I figure it’s the latter, though. Easy to extrude. Probably a specific manifestation of a larger general capability-- the way they just throw Solitaire on your computer, they don’t make a whole bunch of new Solitaire-specific hardware? Like, my powers let me see-- literally, it’s Fate, but *in practice* a lot of it is structural, the points that would make things collapse. And you sure don’t look like you’ve got a ten-foot wingspan folded up somewhere along your ribcage or anything, you know?” she said, gesturing at him.

"God, I hope not. That's where my organs live and those things are fuckin' sharp," Mel said, curling one arm protectively around his middle.

He cocked his head and looked at Violet curiously. "That's interesting, though. The idea of seeing Fate letting you see people's weak points. What about other things, though? Like, can you tell how to manipulate people, or is it all physical? What about fixing things? Well, I guess seeing how to make things collapse is basically the same thing as seeing how to shore them up, it's just a matter of perspective. What does it *look* like?"

Violet laughed. “You’re a computer geek, right? You know what a Jacquard Loom is?”

“Not a clue. Some kind of, uh… carpet-weaving program?” Mel gave her a lopsided smile.

“OK, so-- you know punch-cards? Charles Babbage, steampunk, primitive computers? That sort of thing? Before they had those, they used these physical, binary cards to map out the patterns you’d use when you wove textiles, so you didn’t have to spend all your time setting them by hand. I see the world kinda like that, like it’s a sort of computer program running on a countless set of threads.

“It’s not a hunch, or a feeling or anything like that-- my brain is wired, I guess-- hyper-optimized, to be able to process local threads very quickly. It’s not *just* physical things, it’s everything, but I was designed to be the physical module of our triad. The speeds and ranges I operate under, the kind of things I find it easiest to spot, don’t give me a whole lot of space to do tricks with. Occasionally I get a punchline early, or I finish somebody else’s sentences.. My…. other sister, Lachesis-- she was supposed to be the social/mental module. She’s a lot slower-- she doesn’t operate with the kind of *immediacy* I can-- but she sees further-- more RAM or something, I guess, if we’re extending the metaphor a bit too far.

“I’m not sure I ever had a conversation with her where she hadn’t mapped out my responses in advance and decided how she wanted it to end. She’s… kinda terrifying.”

Mel's eyes lit up. "That's so *cool*, Violet! So you can, like, follow the situation to its logical conclusion, but only a couple seconds in advance? You'd be an incredible, like, lifeguard. Which I guess is basically what a superhero is, on a grander scale." He laughed, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes bright with interest. "Okay, so, you're optimized for the physical. This… Lachesis, is optimized for people. She can tell what you're gonna say and come with a rebuttal preplanned. Sounds like an absolute nightmare to argue with. But you said *triad*. What's the third point of a triangle with physical and mental? I'd say emotional, but sounds like that one's already covered." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But maybe that's not actually the triangle. If you can see that I'm about to knock over a glass of water or throw a punch, and *she* can see through a whole conversation… is there someone that can see even further?"

“No, wrong trinity,” Violet laughed. “Clotho spins. Lachesis measures. Atropos cuts.” She jerked a thumb in Mel’s direction. “You trying to get out of sweating, Mercury? Crunches, go.” She snapped several times for emphasis, setting a pace, chop chop!

Mel snapped in fake consternation, grinning. "Damn! And after I pulled out that sick mythology metaphor with the boat, too." He laughed and held up his hands in surrender, flopping back onto the mat. "Ma'am, yes ma'am," he said, snickering, and started doing his crunches as ordered.

Once she was satisfied he’d resumed his exertions, she continued. “And Lachesis is *much* worse than that, because she’s usually already chosen which of your rebuttals she wants to hear. But Clotho? Clotho was supposed to be the *write* module. Direct-access editing to the substructure of reality. Or something very close to it. In *theory*, together we’d be unbeatable. But we never really got the chance to test that out, since AEGIS and the team managed to rescue me before Clotho could be completed. Although God only knows what Lachesis’ game is in all of this. She was responsible for my escape, as much as anything.”

"Huh." Mel paused in between crunches, then glanced at Violet and started up again a little sheepishly, with a thoughtful look on his face. When he'd finished the set, he pushed himself back up into a sitting position.

"The trouble with someone who knows what to do to bring about the specific future they want," he said slowly, "is that you can never be sure if what they say or do reflects their actual values, or if they're just tools. I mean, you can tell *some* things, because it shows you what they're willing to do or say to get what they want. But maybe you can find a pattern in the outcomes. I mean, how far out *can* Lachesis see? If you assume she always gets what she wants--what has she been getting? Has she used her powers to thwart your evil dads before? Has she used them to help *you* in a way she didn't have to? Does she usually end up better off, like, *personally*?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm sure you've thought about all this stuff before. I went down a similar rabbithole when I found out my parents were friends with a bunch of supervillains, y'know, trying to figure out every angle to approach the problem and figure out what their motives could *possibly* be, knowing that I couldn't necessarily trust anything they might tell me because I couldn't trust that they wouldn't just tell me whatever was in their own best interests. And they didn't even have superpowers specifically designed to know exactly what that would be. It sucks, dude. Not being able to trust people. Especially people you'd sure like to."

“We were *weapons*, Mercury. Barely even people. Obedient little drones. The Director told us to hit a place, we did. Perfect planning, flawless execution. Precise and ruthless.

“So what went wrong?” she continued, rhetorically. “I don’t know-- not exactly-- but *she* does.

“I’m in my cell one day, right? Nice, sterile place, transparent polycarbonate walls for full visibility. And then she shows up right outside, and she asks if I’m *happy*. Refers to me as *Violet*, which-- “ She had to take a breath at that one. “I was *Atropos*. Absolutely nobody called me Violet.” A pause. “So she says she’s got a window, she doesn’t have much time, but she’s going to offer me a way out. Now, here’s me-- good little drone, yeah?”

*I am... content, in my service to the Crimson Circle.* Her words came back to her.

Had she ever really felt content since?

“So, I go after her. Now, her relationship to Fate is different than mine, and I am a *much* better fighter. But she’s still got an absolutely absurd level of combat programming and physical conditioning because they had all that stuff developed on the prototype,” she says, gesturing to herself, “I chase her down, we fight. She can’t land a blow, and take a couple swings because I want to disable her without hurting her. She’s my sister, right? I’m going to win, but I’m afraid for what’s going to happen to her when I do.” She rubs her face a little. “She’s playing for time. Alarms start going off. Big Team and AEGIS are bursting into the place.

“And that’s when she drops it. Hits me with command codes. They had a number of them-- as failsafes. Obedience backups, in case they ever wanted to stop us, or force us to do something we didn’t want to do. In case the conditioning, rewriting out brains and personalities from scratch, wasn’t quite enough. But this is more than that. One I haven’t heard before, I think-- my brain doesn’t let me process or remember them, but it felt different. Whatever she triggered, it wiped or modified just vast *swathes* of conditioning. Left me the person you met.

“I don’t know how far she sees, Mercury. But I wake up every morning not knowing if I’m free, or if I’m just an arrow shot from her bow.

“Squats?”

"Sure. You're the boss," Mel said, but he was frowning, clearly mulling over Violet's story as they moved on to the next exercise. "Okay. So. Obviously there are a lot of questions here. How did she get the command codes? What did she mean by not having much time? Why didn't she leave with you?" He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "The way I see it, there are two major branch points in possibilities here. Either she was acting on her own, or she wasn't. And then either she was trying to help you, or… she wasn't."

He shook his head. "And, okay, there's something I'm really hung up on, here. Like, maybe it's not actually that relevant, but… why would she ask you if you were *happy*? Regardless of her agenda, whether it was all some scheme by your evil dads or all some scheme of hers or a genuine rescue attempt, *especially* when she can see the future, what would be the point? All I can think is that maybe she… like, she needed reassurance? Like, okay, here's a fun hypothetical scenario: something breaks Lachesis's programming. Let's say temporarily, 'cause she was worried about a time limit. She is suddenly faced with the fact that her current situation is, uh… shall we say, 'fucked up'. This is a huge shift in worldview from the chill murdertimes she was just living. So she goes to find you, and she needs… confirmation. That it is actually super fucked up. And I feel like just about anything someone brainwashed says in response to that question is gonna be that confirmation. So she breaks you out of evil jail."

He blew out a long, frustrated breath. "But I could also be a million miles off base and this is all some sort of grand Machiavellian scheme and that is at least equally as plausible. Dude, no offense, but I've only known about your sister for like ten minutes and I'm terrified of her."

“Well, no kidding.” Violet smirked. “Come on, step it up. Will it help if I do, what, three, four, to every one you’re doing?”

Mel jabbed an accusatory finger at her. "Violet, please. You're polluting the learning environment. Shouldn't you be trying to build my confidence? You should be *nice* to me." His attempt at holding a stern expression broke immediately and instead he gave her a shit-eating grin. Still, he picked up the pace.

“She’s objectively terrifying. But we got separated in the raid. Seems to be some evidence that she’s still with the circle, but I haven’t been able to get close enough. Wanted Maria to help track them down. Jackal was going to ask Old Jackal. Tried interrogating Dez a couple times. And then we captured this representative of the Circle on an alien auction barge of all places. Which-- don’t get me started-- is pretty weird. Still no luck getting a location to follow up on, actionable intelligence,” Violet explained with a sigh. “And I *am* being nice.

“So, there are a couple of possibilities there, and either one determines the whole context for my existence. But, uh, guessing you’re no stranger to that, huh?”

Mel laughed. "Yeah, welcome to my hell for the past several months. Complete with anxiety spirals and hiding in my room for weeks at a time. You've been doing a way better job at investigating than me, though, kudos to you. I mostly spent my time whining about how I didn't want to talk to my parents, you at least went looking for answers about the Circle--WAIT."

He dropped the dumbbell. "Not--the *Crimson* Circle? Is *that* what Cadenza was blathering about?"

“Uh. Dunno, maybe?” Violet blinked twice, pausing in her squats. “What did Nat tell you?”

"Okay, so, it's not that she told me anything, because she told me absolutely nothing," Mel said. "But we *might* be siblings. Also Shade."

“Uh. No offense, but-- how do you figure?” Violet scratched her head.

Mel paused, the gears in his head almost visibly working as he reversed his train of thought to figure out how to explain. "So, okay, remember when we went to the museum, and you saw the apocalypse? And then like all this weird stuff happened with time? Well, Ryan and I went to the future to rescue Lugnut and their mom from a supervillain, and Nat found out, and she insisted she was coming with us and it turns out it is utterly impossible to talk her out of, like, anything. So she came with us." Mel paused for breath. "Um, so we went to this apocalyptic future Halcyon City, and most of the details aren't important, but one of my evil dads had walled off a section of the city and like, set himself up as a dictator there or whatever. His name is Lucian Quinn, but he calls himself Prometheus. And he wears this helmet, right, and it has a red circle on it. So he video called us--well, I called him first, but that's really neither here nor there--and we were arguing with him, 'cause he's the worst, right, like, of all my evil dads, I hate that guy the most. And then *Cadenza* asked if he had anything to do with the Crimson Circle, because of his symbol, right? And he gave this really cagey like, non-answer, that kinda implied that he did? Like, I dunno, I was a little preoccupied at the time and didn't know what she was talking about so I might not be remembering perfectly, but I think it was something like, if they were using his symbol, he was probably cool with it? *So*--"

Mel spread his hands out, as if presenting the story for Violet's approval. "We might have an evil dad in common."

“They do like their insignia,” Violet said, considering this. “And, yeah, it definitely is a literal Crimson Circle. But I don’t know if I’m ready to claim sisterhood to every person whose life they defined.” She took a moment to ponder. “Kinship, possibly. You said you grew up not knowing, which implies you, well, grew up. Your memories and everything weren’t synthetic? Your parents still raised you?”

"For a certain value of raised, yeah," Mel said, with a brief sardonic edge that quickly faded as he continued. "Far as I can tell, I spent eighteen real human years living in Halcyon with my parents and Cassi. And Cassi sure remembers them too, so unless there's a way weirder and more sinister conspiracy going on here that she's in on--which, frankly, uh, *no*--my memories are all real."

“So… I guess, in what sense does this Prometheus dude count as your dad?”

"Same way Smokescreen does, I guess, except Smokescreen has the manners to just, like, leave me alone. Neither of them raised me, but both of them… *made* me. Obviously it's not the same kind of relationship as my *dad* dad, but it's easier to say 'evil dad' than 'scientist who helped build me.'" He grimaced. "Especially when he keeps *acting* like he's my dad." Mel gave a full-body shudder. "Ugh. Prometheus is *such* a creep."

His expression lightened and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Plus, it's like… a bright side? Not--not being related to *them*, obviously, but if Smokescreen and Prometheus are my dads, then Smoke's my uncle and Hana's my sister. And that's nice, y'know? Silver linings, and all."

“Dunno.” Violet resumed her exertions. “It’s stretching the metaphor a little? I guess I do consider Lachesis my sister.” *And was that programming?* *Did you have a choice?* “But I don’t feel like I want to claim The Director or any of the fucked up engineers or ritualists or designers that worked on Project: Norn as my parents, you know?”

Mel hummed, following her lead a little belatedly. "Yeah, that's fair. It's also not like they *created* you. And I wonder if I would feel differently about my evil dads if there were twenty of them instead of four. But, hey! Even if we don't have a *dad* in common--we have an enemy." He gave her a wolfish grin. "And he happens to currently be in AEGIS custody. You're welcome. It's a nightmare to get access to an AEGIS prisoner, but I know someone who's done it before and probably wants a crack at Prometheus. We might be able to get information out of him for you."

This would draw Violet to a halt. “AEGIS has usually been… mostly cooperative about these sorts of things. Heaven knows they’re not actually very good at keeping high security prisoners.” She counted off on her fingers. “Chelicerae, Dez, that one Rokkr wolf, Dez again…Uh. Chelicerae, again. You think you’ve got a way to make him talk? All my other attempts have come up pretty dry.”

"Smoke, Tempus Fugit… Mirror." Mel's grip on the weight briefly tightened. "Assorted other supervillains I don't know personally. Believe me, I am… intimately acquainted with AEGIS's failures in security. But nobody's sprung Prometheus yet, and odds are, even if he gets out… it won't be long before he inserts himself in my life again." He made a face. "I wish I could get him to *stop* talking most of the time. As for giving actually *useful* information… probably. He's… well. He's proud of his kids." His expression soured further, then he shook his head and refocused. "There's a chance, if he *is* directly involved with the Crimson Circle, that that extends to you and he'll be happy to monologue all about it. Otherwise… well, it wouldn't be a *fun* conversation, but I bet I could get him to answer some questions."

“Alright, Mercury.” Violet nodded firmly, offering him a hand. “You’ve got yourself a plan.”

When he accepted it she grinned. “Now chin up, you’ve got two more sets to do, just like that.”

--

When Mel finally finished the last set, he flopped overdramatically onto his back on the floor. "You're a harsh mistress, Violet," he groaned. "I've never been this tired, and I've fought for my life *several* times. Why do people do this to themselves willingly?"
Violet was returning from the kitchen with a couple protein drinks from the kitchen. She tossed him one. “Flex,” she instructed.

Mel bobbled the catch, nearly dropping the bottle on his face, before clutching it safely to his chest and reluctantly heaving himself up into a sitting position. He took a sip of the drink and made a face, then obediently flexed an arm. His eyebrows shot up at the visible movement of his muscle and he unconsciously took another sip. "Huh. Okay, then." He held up the drink. "This is disgusting, by the way."

“Really? At this point it’s mostly a nice change from all the cupcakes-- or whatever Ernest abandons in the kitchen.” She shrugs. “You’re going to need to increase your protein intake, if you’re hoping to pack on some muscle. This is as good a way of doing it as any-- preferably in the window after you work out, when your body’s looking for raw materials to deal with all the stuff you just asked it to do.”

"Violet, literally everything you say about the way you live distresses me," Mel said mildly. "*Please* eat something else. Frozen pizza. A hot pocket. An apple. Literally anything."

“When we have a successful mission, we get Denny’s.” Violet said, absolutely deadpan. “I like the Moons Over My Hammy.”

"Well thank god for that." Mel clambered to his feet and stretched out his arm to offer the drink to Wingnut. She looked down at it and then back up at him with palpable disdain.

Mel shrugged. "All right, suit yourself. More gross goop for me." He took another swig. "Seriously, though, Violet, I didn't get out much as a kid--I have a whole list of shit I did to keep me busy. We gotta find you something to occupy your time with *besides* running marathons in the basement. We're all very impressed, but it hurts me inside. You need a *hobby*."

“Exercise is a hobby,” she said, tersely. *Oh, yeah, tons of fun*. “Sometimes I use the punching dummies.”

"Okay, then at *least* come roof-hopping with me. You can show me up, it'll be great. We can work our way up to relaxation." Mel squinted at Violet, tapping his chin. "Seriously, though. Needlepoint. Cassi went through a phase. I tried it and sucked at it because I kept getting distracted and lazy. I don't think focus would be a problem for you." He gave her a crooked smile.

“I dunno. I don’t--” she looked away briefly, chewing her lip in contemplation. “I don’t like to go out in public without, you know, enough of an escort to take me down if things go bad?”

"Okay, so I'll bring Lugnut," Mel replied easily. "He's, like, three people in one. Plus, then I might actually have a chance in a race. We can invite other people too, if you want. You just gotta get out, dude."

“... I...” *Fuck. He called my bluff*. “I guess that sounds OK?” she shrugged, taking a gulp of her protein drink, trying to figure out how to wriggle her way out of this. “Assuming we get a couple other folks.”

Mel beamed at her. "Great! I'll rally the troops. It'll be great." He stretched both arms over his head, careful not to spill the protein drink. "Well, I should head home. We should do this again soon! I *promise* not to be such a bummer next time." He laid one hand over his heart. "I swear, I'm usually a delight to be around. People even do it on purpose, sometimes." He laughed.

“I don’t mind.” Violet smiled --just a little-- doing some stretches. “Two days. I, uh, ought to warn you, you’re going to be pretty sore, tomorrow.”

Mel sighed. "Just the latest in the series of unending nightmares that is my life." He cracked up and held out a hand for Wingnut. She hopped onto his arm and he transferred her to his shoulder. "Well, I'll see you--wait!"

He jumped, scrabbling in his pocket to pull out his phone. He shoved himself in next to Violet and held it out to take a selfie of them. "Proof!" He said, grinning at her. "For Melody and Boon. Now they can't accuse me of faking it."

Her scowl had already repaired itself before the shot.
“I-- uh, try to stay off the internet,” Violet said, suddenly quiet again.

Mel shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Sure thing, dude. Big Team eyes only. You got it."

“Dunno why Mel and Boon would want a picture of us?” said Violet, assigning the ‘Mel’ label more selectively.

Mel laughed. "You're my alibi."

“Keep it up, Mercury, you won’t need an alibi to prove it.”

"I'll believe it when I see it." He offered her a fistbump. "See you, Violet. Thanks for taking pity on me."

“Yeah, no sweat,” she said, accepting the fistbump with a wink. Wait, had she actually not--

"Don't rub it in," Mel said dryly. He headed for the door, and as he opened the door he turned to give her a two-fingered salute. "Needlepoint, Violet! Think about it!"