Memento Vivere (Mike)

It is not often that Lucius Alba finds himself in New York these days. Once the city that made him, it was now rebuking his very existence. Though, that was the entire United States, to be fair. Lucius was not a popular man in the West. Seen as a criminal, dictator, or mad scientist by many, New York City's former golden boy was constantly judged by the freedom loving Americans. They did not understand. Or, perhaps they did, but they were simply too weak to admit it to themselves. Either way, their irrational and not very well thought out hatred was beginning to become grating.

Lucius, hollowed and pale, rode in the back of a limo. His eyes were covered with a pair of sunglasses despite the fact there was little light getting through the tinted windows. The normally powerful, confident, and strong Rise Head was gaunt. The images of the previous few weeks were fresh in his mind. His daughter, his Isalia, was gone. He had managed to get into this car though, and he had even managed to strike up a deal with a rather curious man calling himself Savior. He was hurt, but he was still going. He was grieving, yes, that was visible on his face, but he also had determination in his eyes. Once again, his goals had been reinvigorated by loss. After much thought after the events of that ice castle, Red had concluded his path forward, and this was it.

He was giving a speech to some university students, and whoever else would come, in the middle of Central Park. From the driveway, the dictator could already see the massive amount of protestors and media personal. Most were not happy with him being here, and those that were still tended to be cautious. Lucius was a man rumored to be the world's worst tyrant since Hitler or Stalin. Though that simply wasn't true, it was the stigma that these people held, and that made them furiously opposed to even a simple speech on American soil.

But Red had obeyed all the laws. He had paid all he needed to make this happen, and he would speak. No amount of outrage or protest would prevent him from making this declaration. Lucius was in many senses renewing himself, for better for for worse, and he wasn't going to allow a bunch of idealistic kids with signs stop him. The limo stopped just outside the stage, the crowds parting. Security was buzzing all around, and they seemed to be able to keep everyone in line.

Lucius got out. There was a flurry of camera flashes, microphones in his face, and insults flung his way, but he pressed forward. Red himself pushed a few reporters out of his way. He wasn't interested in making comments, especially before he made his actual speech. The man was impatient today. It was as if his rage was only hidden behind a dam of tissue paper. One thing, anything, seemed like it could set him off.

But, Lucius remained controlled, and he made it to the stage.

He looked down at the crowd. Security, academics, journalists, government agents, police, students, and angry teenagers with masks on seemed to be what made up the demographics. As Lucius approached his podium, he cleared his throat, then smiled. He left his sunglasses on, however.

"Good evening, my fellow New Yorkers. It's good to be home."

Coming to New York was not a common thing for Michael to do. He hated the city, especially how cold it got around certain times of the year. This was one such time of the year, him pulling the jacket closer to his skin while moving through the people that had come. Some were in support to the person speaking, while others wanted to decry them as the greatest villain since Hitler. That alone was good enough reason to see Lucius Alba, but he also had other reasons for doing so. Ones that he would have to get into when actually confronting this guy. First was making something out of it, and he had to look into how that would happen. Talk of those that were less than pleased with the dictator coming around was buzzing in the criminal underworld. Places that he knew how to access, and ones that spoke when he pressed on the right pressure points.

He moved through the growing crowd, shoving aside anyone that actually stood in his way. A few scrawny millennial shits that couldn’t even really stay standing with a small push. Trying not to break any bones was a difficult thing to do, but he was doing fine. The fact he was actually making speeches on American soil was a pretty ballsy move. This could go very interesting if he didn’t somehow fuck this up. Luckily mingling within the small crowd, people shove aside was easy. Mingling with the angry teenagers with masks was easy enough, even allowed him to hide with a mask with the hood of his hoodie pulled up to drape over the apex of the mask. Security attempted to keep people in line, small little people unaware of what they might have been dealing with.

As soon as the man of the hour emerged from his vehicle the scene was lit up with flashing cameras. What he had expected was far different than the gaunt phantom existing from the vehicle. Instead of yielding pointless words towards the cretins called press, he strode confidently onwards to the stage. All eyes on the brazen figure taking his place, Mike silently watching while everyone else jeered or cheered.

Few in the crowd around him were shuffling, moving things within their coats. Either weapons or more of the garrishly designed signs. There was no telling with these ralleys and their odd motives. Either way, it was hard not being tense when expecting something to happen. What people called for this mans death and how did they expect to go about it? Not that he would let them get to his mark first.

Likely some of the speech would go through first before anyone did anything. So he waited.

"..Not that I've been given a warm welcome," Lucius said, still smiling. Someone in the crowd yelled something in response that Lucius couldn't quite make out. It was something about him being a tyrant. Pretty predictable, if nothing else. Red just sighed in return, removing his glasses. The man's eyes, normally grey, were alight with red energy. A few people seemed to gasp at the mere sight of them. It was as if a change in eye color spelled their doom. Lucius couldn't help but be amused.

"Oh, let's be civilized, shall we? I thought we cared about the content of our character in this country, not appearances," Lucius said. The crowd stopped shuffling slightly at that. They were still erratic and uncomfortable, that much was apparent, but with Red's comment they didn't seem like they were about to panic at any moment.

"Ironically enough, I'm here for precisely such a reason. See, I've noticed a phenomenon in people over the last decade. Whatever looks evil to you is so, whoever is called a villain is such, and those labeled heroes are automatically saviors, all without a look at the evidence. Perhaps it's your obsession with movies and stories, or perhaps it's just another example of the stupidity of the masses. Either way, I'm here to set the record straight." Lucius momentary stepped away from his podium after speaking. He was moving to retrieve a remote from one of the nearby ushers. With a flick of a switch, a screen rose up from the stage. It was blank right now, but it was obvious it soon wouldn't be. Once it was readied, Lucius returned to his platform. After pressing some more buttons, stats appeared on the screen.

"This is the GDP of Belarus. After it's liberation, it's increased by a power of ten. This is the median household income. This, this is the violent crime rate. Both are improved by similar margins. And this, well, this is the demographic breakdown of metahumans vs humans. For so long the part of the population blamed for violent crime, it now makes up the vast majority of the most peaceful country in the world. I think anyone in this crowd would agree these are good things, and they might also agree, given this evidence, that metahumans aren't the problem. If i were to hypothesize an alternative, i would say It's the way they are being handled," Lucius said. More shifting in the crowd could be seen. It's not like Lucius wasn't aware of what was going to happen. These kids in masks with weapons showed up for a reason, and it wasn't to simply call him childish names. Things would get bad, but that would only serve his point.

"Metahumans in the West are simultaneously demonized and celebrated. Scrutinized for their power, yet praised when it is put to use in a way the people like. This in many ways takes their freedom away. They can't be normal, or they will be feared. The only way to be accepted is to go out into the streets and fight other powered individuals under the guise of justice. What sort of backwards system is this? How is this any different from regulating them? You're forcing them down one of two paths: heroics that bring the fight to the streets, damage infrastructure, and get people killed, or open rebellion against society, which does the same." Lucius was asking honest questions. He couldn't wrap his mind around America's relationship with Inhumans, but he intended to get to the bottom of it.

"So perhaps you should question your preconceived notions. Ask yourself if these people you call heroes are doing what they do out of the kindness of their heart, or if they are forced into it by society. Ask yourself if the average metahuman is really a ticking time bomb, or just an abandoned person with no hope of being accepted. Ask yourself if these people can be encouraged to really contribute to and be a part society, and discouraged from using their abilities in urban brawls. Ask yourself if allowing people, heroes or otherwise, to run the streets is helping anyone. Ask yourself if a bit of control and order, not superpowered wild west anarchy, will integrate these people into the community and help to improve it. And finally, ask yourself if the mad dictator who took down The Talons is truly the bad guy, or if he's simply fighting against a dangerous and repugnant culture that surrounds those with abilities."

Suddenly, groups of masked young adults circled the perimeter of the crowd, running for the stage. Some in the center even pushed forward. They revealed all manner of weapons. Guns, bombs, sticks, swords, knives, and even a few things Lucius instantly recognized as high tech sonics. They had flags with cute little sayings like 'Kill the Devil' and 'Down with the Dictator.' It was as if they hadn't heard a word he said. Lucius didn't react. He finished the speech.

"Does what the men in tights represent truly improve the world, or is it just perpetuating violence and disorder? Are the kids born with abilities truly monsters inherently, or are they made that way by those that cast them
out? Is the dictator with red eyes really a devil, or just a man trying to put a halt to the same sorts of battles that battered this city, and that took his family? Think for yourself. Things aren't always what they appear to be."

The welcome to the world leader was anything but warm. Whispers moved through the crowd even when he began speaking, some in support and others in dissent. Even still he had to admit the guy was dealing with it gracefully enough considering the situation. Civility was not a situation that he expected from the supposed dictator, but this was a public setting. Perhaps he was hoping not to immediately incite some manner of riot. It was hard not to consider how many ways he could kill the man if only to further avoid any problems. Granted the whole thing came from his brother casually mentioning that the two had spent some time together before they met a space stitching red headed lady. His mind was running a mile a minute while the man spoke, thinking over angels and directions that he could go while people shifted around him. Some were removing weapons from hidden locations, prepared to take down the object of their ire.

Apparently they were less interested in the improved GDP of a country and more about pointless emotional vendettas. Instead he was now only half listening and texting. Not like they would be moving too fast for him in the span of a few seconds. He didn’t need to hear the heroes and villains were the problem speech. There was likely someone that could have argued it till they were blue in the face, not like he cared.

Michael was afterall trying to give it the college try rather than continuing along the curvy and wide. Couldn’t let some politician blow it up all in one fell swoop. Either way, he had decided to take refuge within the crowd of rowdy, and potentially violent humans. Maybe this was the plan all along, to swoop in and take them down with ruthless efficiency. Not that he cared for random people throwing praise towards him, especially with how shallow humans were. Give them a nice thing and they’ll be sure to let any evil overshadow that. All of them circled the podium, brandishing rudimentary weapons aside from a few he swore were stolen.

Looks like some of them aren’t fucking around. He thought o himself, almost amused by the fact the dictator didn’t cease speaking. Well, at the very least the guy had some balls on him. Now he had to help a little, maybe dissuade these fine young gentlemen from doing anything stupid through his favorite medium; violence. One would find their knife plucked from his hand, the blade immediately ramming into their thigh. Pain was what caused them to fumble face first into the ground. With speed that expanded beyond human limits, he continued dismantling the resistance with a kick that sent the other beside him slamming into a few other.

Not breaking bones was hard when you kick people that hard, but they had it coming. It didn’t take the little geniuses too long to figure out that a meta had broken into their ranks, kicking the shit out of most of them. ”You rebellious types don’t think too far ahead. Always just assume anyone with the mask is on your side.” Unfortunately for them, he was on no-ones side at the moment. Something the next found out as the pointed their gun, and he seemed to move faster than they could react. Bending the metal barrel upwards, ripping it from their hands and bashing them over the head with it.

Okay, this was fun. Especially when the crowd started screaming.

Lucius stepped back from his podium. He could have went on; he could have showed this crowd a dozen more info graphics or given a dozen more speeches, but he had made his point. Metas weren't the problem, but how they were being treated. They were allowed, and in some cases encouraged, to engage in violent, renegade activity, and they were simultaneously shunned for being who they were. Lucius was proposing control and order, yes, but he was also proposing that society open up to this individuals. He wanted to show them they had a place in the world beyond punching other powered people through buildings, and that there were better, safer ways to help.

That point was lost in the crowd, apparently. Lucius' suspicions were confirmed when the stage was surrounded. Security did their best to keep them at bay, but it was clear these kids had prepared well. With the activation of a small metal sphere in one of their hands, a high pitched screeching sound enveloped the area. Those without the proper gear or abilities to counteract the attack dropped in pain almost instantly. In a matter of seconds, most of the crowd was screaming and running. The ones that remained firm Lucius could only assume were the assailants.

"Interesting, isn't it? I assume you fight against me because of the extreme things you think I've done in the name of my cause, yet here you are, using violence to achieve yours. Though your hypocrisy doesn't absolve me, i have to wonder why you concluded to oppose me in the first place," Lucius said as a few people closed in. The sonics were annoying, but Lucius was durable. Plus, it wasn't like he hadn't been exposed to far better sonic weapons in the past. He often used them, after all.

The kids seemed to ignore Lucius, chanting their mantras and holding their signs. They had become radical. There was no reasoning anymore, just a blind emotional doctrine. They thought of Lucius as their enemy even while doing the same things they opposed him for. It wasn't about ideals, it was about tribalism.

Lucius saw, in the crowd that was left, an interesting sight though. A man, most likely a meta by how competent he seemed to be, dispatching these attackers with extreme prejudice. Red would have called out, or otherwise engaged the young man, but he had other issues. Namely a group of kids trying to kill him.

The humans that surrounded Red were of no concern. They couldn't harm him if they tried. A few bullets were sent Red's way, but one by one they were caught. Even the stolen tech and bombs were useless. Lucius snapped his fingers, sending out a faint pulse of energy, and just like that the weapons within range were disintegrated in a red haze.

Most of the teenagers stepped back at this point, losing confidence. However, three in particular remained where they were. This was the stance of someone that had power behind them; Lucius could have recognized it anywhere. The Rise Head smirked.

"You too? Now this is interesting," Lucius said. Before he even finished his last word, a torrent of flames was sent his way. Lucius remained defensive, though, and put up a barrier of energy in response.

Meanwhile, one of the obvious metas in the group turned his attention to Mike, who seemed to be having a grand old time messing up anyone he laid his eyes on. With a leap, the hooded teenager jumped into the air then came plummeting down on Mike's position. Upon impact, devastating force would hit Mike, or it would hit the ground, but either way there would be a pretty brutal shockwave. The sheer impact knocked fleeing people off their feet from twenty meters away. Mike got the superstrength guy. Yay.

It was hard not to give into sadistic urges when the opportunity came. All it took was bones breaking, blood gushing and people screaming to make his heartbeat skyrocket. The futility of people fighting back, well that just added spice to combat even if he enjoyed a little resistance. The one bashed over the head slump to the ground like a sack of potatoes, others looked to him with what he assumed was sudden fear. Maybe the idiots realized he was a little above their pay grade? Either way someone grew a pair enough to attack him, even a metahuman with some smashy looking powers. That was his guess as someone leapt into the air and proceeded to come crashing down to the ground.

There was no question he would avoid it, tapping into above human speed to propel himself backwards as the ground rippled and broke on impact. He was thrown back by the ensuing shockwave, violently buffeted by the ground as he rolled and oriented himself. If anyone not part of the assault on Lucius remained, they would be running away from the combat. Now things were getting interesting. Not every day he actually got to fight someone, unless he was just hyping himself up for nothing. ”Lets see what you can do. Try not to disappoint the audiences at home.” Ethereal energy reoriented itself in his body, augmenting speed, durability and even strength itself bounds beyond his norms.

In a blur he rushed the metahuman, sidestepping what looked to be a transparent attempt to hit him and began whittling away at him. Taking the form of powerful blows against their side, gut and even neck. To the casual observer he was nothing more than a blur, striking away at someone that could have been a deadly threat to any human. It would have taken the most durable of flesh to actually withstand what he was dishing out, but something told him this guy was not the most durable. Each step was him ducking out of the way of blows, and returning fire with brutal efficiency.

Not that he struck at the kill points but they would be feeling each strike. Eventually they fell to one knee, Michael slamming their face into the ground with a brutally efficient kick. ”That’s what I was expecting.” He muttered, stepping over them and looking to Lucius who had his own superhuman to fight.

So it was now clear to the remaining metahumans that Lucius and this mystery man were quite out of their league. Red had destroyed the entire group's weaponry with a gesture, blocked every attack thrown against him with ease, and was now stepping forward with a devilish smirk on his face. The camera crews were gone now, and that meant he didn't have to keep up appearances. Though he would have been justified in defending himself, it was easy to twist such imagery, thus undermining the point of this speech. Nevertheless, that wasn't an issue now.

Another pulse of energy was all it took to end this little escapade. It seared everyone it came into contact with. The more durable the person was, the more Red amped his power up. Of course, he was only aiming to injure at this point. He seemed to be quite successful, too, because the assailants were now doing their best to run away. They howled and held their burns, spewing obscenities as they tumbled. Lucius shook his head. This wasn't very well thought out.

Lucius then turned his attention to the man that had just made quick work of an otherwise powerful individual. He had made sure to stop his energy from affecting the male. This person had, after all, helped get rid of the attackers—not that it was a very challenging issue. Regardless, Lucius clapped from atop the stage in congratulations.

"Impressive, I must say. If you had been one of them, this might have actually been a bit of fun," Lucius said, walking off the stage. He then approached Mike, bowing his head ever so slightly.

"Lucius Alba. To whom do i owe the pleasure?"

As soon as combat started it had ended. Leaving people either fleeing, or unconscious even though the fleeing took the brute. At the very least they weren’t willing to leave a friend behind despite how poorly they showed in the ralley. Seeing Lucius easily deal with the piss-ants arrayed against him, well that was also amusing. How none of them were dead was an even more interesting concept to him. His attention turned to the dictator walking towards him, silently wondering what intentions the man held. Did he think him some kind of enemy or something else? What came was something else, even if it wasn’t unwanted.

He was making conversation? ”You weren’t so bad yourself. I’m sure a lot of them pissed themselves from that little display there.” Despite how calm he felt, Mike was more than prepared for any attacks to come when he let his guard down. Not that he ever left himself open like that. ”Can’t say I was impressed with these assassins. Would think they’’d try a little harder to kill a world leader.” Not even a sniper ready to blow his head off.

Either way actual introductions were getting underway, with Lucius offering a small bow. Had to give him points for the attempt at manners anyway.  ”Hyperion, but some call me Michael. Was hoping to get a little on on one talking time but these assholes got in the way. Wondering if your timetables freed up now.’ Now that he intended to give him much of a choice.

As if to see if he was still needed, Lucius looked around quizzically. He saw cop cars rolling into the park, people running away, and a few helicopters circling above. It would probably be more polite to wait and give his statement, but he didn't really owe anybody anything. Even if they somehow decided Lucius was guilty of a crime, he had diplomatic immunity. He couldn't be arrested, and that meant he didn't have to play this game. Red shrugged slightly, smirking.

"It just so happens the only thing on today's schedule was cut short by those delinquents. My driver is still waiting, if you'd like," Lucius said, walking back to the limo he had arrived in. He gestured for this 'Michael' to follow, but he honestly didn't care if the male did. He was in New York, after all, and he had some free time. Both of those things were very rare for Lucius these days.

Lucius would open the limo door and get inside. The interior was a lot more spacious then you would expect; there was even a bar.

Sitting in the posh leather seating, Lucius grabbed a pair of crystal glasses. He began filling them with ice and decades old bourbon as he waited for Mike to join him—not that he was far behind.

"I can spare some time for anyone with such impressive competence, so long as they aren't trying to kill me," Lucius said, taking a drink from his glass. Once Mike got in the limo, the door would shut on it's own. The interior was decorated with a mixture of modern luxury and sleek new technology, screens all around. Mike would be able to sit across from Lucius, facing him. Between the two men would be the small bar, which also acted as a sort of coffee table.

"So, tell me Hyperion, what's the matter at hand?"

As soon as the police began moving in he found himself wanting to scoot out of there. Not that he felt himself threatened by blue suited fools, but he did want to avoid needlessly hurting people. ”So all it takes to get a ride in a dictators limo is saving them.” He noted with a casual shrug, following the dictator to his limo which looked far better on the inside. Not that the exterior looked bad by any stretch of the imagination. He took a seat across from him, and eyed the aged bourbon filling the glass.

Lifting the mask up enough, Michael took a sip from it.  The taste was smooth really, something he would continue drinking. They were in agreement that he was competent, something that few people could argue but that wasn’t his intention to brag. Working over the flavor that ran across his tongue, Michael worked out what he could say. Simply saying to leave his brother alone would have seemed awkward but then again that was the essence of things.

”I don’t have any intentions of killing you. Not yet anyway.” It was very apparent that he was messing with him. ”I suppose I should cut to the chase then.” A small pause as he took another sip from the small glass while ruminating over what to say. Reclining against the seats really gave a feel for how high quality they actually were. It came in dealing with the leader of a prosperous country like Belarus had become.

”A young metahuman named Silus, i’ve heard you’ve been spending time with him. What exactly is someone like you doing hanging around with him?” There was no bias or judgement in his tone. Oddly enough it was very matter of fact.

Lucius' eyes lit up with amusement at the prospect of this kid trying to kill him. It was an arrogant, misguided, and downright far fetched idea, but something in Lucius had to respect such an attitude. It was brave, confident, and self empowering to face down a man with Lucius' reputation, let alone threaten to kill him. Lucius just took another sip of his drink, saying nothing. He let the look on his face express how unlikely he thought it was, but he showed no disdain for the boy, yet.

Michael then decided to get to the point, which pleased Lucius. He after all didn't like his time being wasted, especially his free time. Sure he could sit here drinking with an underage in a limo all day, but he could also be reacquainting himself with his hometown. As interesting as the kid was, Lucius' old stomping ground was more so.

Until Silus was mentioned, at least.

Flashes of the boy entered his mind. His death and subsequent resurrection was still fresh in Lucius' thoughts, and Mike's words only served to further remind the man of the similar death of Isalia. For a moment, a fraction of a second, grief was evident by the look on Red's face. The dictator's hand even twitched slightly as he brought his glass to his mouth once again.

Lucius had come here to think of other things, but these memories seemed to follow him, and they were sitting in his limo.

"Slius? A metahuman? Doubtful, though he hasn't quite given me a straight answer on what he is," Lucius said, pivoting his mind to a less painful aspect of the conversation. There was a part of Lucius that wanted to kick this Michael out and then drive off, but there was also a part that was far to curious too end this here. He swallowed his emotion, returning to a somewhat calculated mindset.

"That's the thing, Michael, i don't know. Silus comes and goes, and his interest in me is a bit of an enigma. It was never my intention to 'hang out' with him. I can say he's my friend, sure, but our relationship was foremost his doing," Lucius said, choosing his words carefully. He could tell when someone had an axe to grind, even if the only indication was an off hand threat of violence.

"Please don't tell me you're one of those 'hero' types that thinks I'm going to corrupt the boy. Even if i wanted to, it's not like I'd succeed. He's remarkably solid in his convictions, from my experience.... Also, i already tried killing him once. It didn't work out, so I'm unlikely to try again. No worries."

Michael never feared people, not even leaders of countries or supposedly powerful beings. Lucius Alba was no different, especially because he wore the face of a man. Despite what would be described as sharp, imposing features mingling with an air of dark menace that could ruin any lesser man. Luckily he was no lesser. Hopefully this didn’t boil down to him having to fight, maybe even kill the man before him. Not that there was any moral issue with it, aside from the fact that he would have a nation potentially after him. Now that would have been annoying. The bourbon was pretty nice however.

One thing he could give Lucius credit for was not poisoning people he shared a drink with. ”He does like being really vague about that.” Michael had to admit even he didn’t know what his brother was anymore. A connection to the Etherium wasn’t there anymore, which meant he wasn’t an Ethereal. As far as he knew they had no metagene to gain powers from, but then again using the phrase metahuman was far easier than just trying to guess at what he was. So in the end he tended to use shorthand, usually getting the point across.

Even still the two of them shared a lack of understanding on why the kid wanted to spend time with this man. ”You’re probably just another broken thing he’s trying to fix,” He threw out the suggestion, downing the rest of the dark brown liquid with a single motion. ”That’s always been a weakness of his. Trying to do good despite how stupid that might actually be.” Being good and helping people never made sense to him, especially when someone got nothing out of it. Actually meeting with a supposed dictator and threatening them also did not seem smart. Yet here he was doing so, despite the fact that Silus would do that anyway.

Being questioned about being a hero did make him scoff, chuckle even at the concept. ”No, i’m no hero. You could even say i’m a shit person in general,” Settling down the glass, he seemed to narrow his focus on Lucius sharp as a razor. Though the only indicator of this was the air growing deathly cold. ”I don’t have any good intentions or whatever horse shit you might have in mind. People like you are like poison, you ruin anything good by touching it. He’s probably been through enough without whatever problems you could cause.”  His tone was oddly cold, as if it alone could run someone through.

Lucius just sat back, letting the kid talk. He wanted to interject at a couple points, but he restrained himself. Better to let all the chips fall before playing your hand. Luckily for Lucius, this Michael had nothing but hot air. It was all just rhetoric, regurgitated from those that opposed him. It was the same type of notions he had came here to extinguish, and yet it seemed Lucius had missed a spot.

There was a good ten seconds of dead silence. Lucius looked upwards slightly, thinking about what he would say a moment. What the kid said made him angry, but he had to pick his words carefully still.

"Funny, coming from someone who just labeled themselves a bad person," Lucius said, refilling both glasses. Things were just getting fun, so it would be a shame to continue without refreshment.

"And what exactly, might I ask, are you basing that off? My creation of the closest thing to a utopia we've ever seen in Belarus? My destruction of The Talons, that league of international inquisitors? Perhaps my charity work for troubled metahuman youth? Oh, I know, my creation of Rise. Yes, that despicable organization bent on improvement of the world and it's people is nothing but poison. Those are surely examples of me ruining everything," Lucius said, his eyes narrowing. He laid the sarcasm on thick, paying no attention to the kid's theatrics. Lucius had seen worse then a boy with a few fancy tricks, and he simply wasn't scared in the slightest.

"Did you listen to a word i said in my speech, Michael, or were you too busy gallantly beating the tar out of my detractors? Your claim has no foundation but appearances, and of course, what you've been told to think. Sure I've made a few mistakes here and there, and yes I have done morally questionable things, but I would challenge you to name one nation with leaders that haven't. People are scared of me not because I'm any worse then those that lead them, like they imply, but because I represent change," Lucius said, taking a drink from his glass. He then leaned forward, eyes still blaring red.

"Poison? Please. Poison destroys everything in it's wake. Poison is malicious and desires nothing but death. No, I'm a firm hand. I'm the one that does the jobs nobody else has the stomach to do. I'm necessary if this circus we call a planet is ever going to survive the transition into the next era. This world is sick, divided, ignorant, superstitious, and hung up on sentiments that will be it's downfall if not done away with. No, I'm not poison, Michael—I'm the bitter cure," Lucius said, leaning back once again. He swirled the ice around in his glass, taking a moment to let it all sink in before speaking again. He'd rather not let the kid, as teenagers are prone to do, drive right over the top of his words.

"Besides, with how violent you were out there, perhaps it is I who should be concerned for Silus' well being," Lucius said, a knowing, snide smiling playing on his face.

Michael had seen people like Lucius before. Proud types who always had to be right, even at the expenses of others and especially at the expense of others. When it was to bring the blowhard Phoenix down before everyone that seemingly loved the guy it was one thing, but Silus was not Phoenix. If anything the kid was far from him. He was also family, something he had come to learn was more important than anything else. Still the male proved him right by bringing up the fact he had called himself a bad person, despite not understanding how that worked. ”Yes, please tell me how much money went towards the parental murder aspect of that department. I would really like to volunteer there.” His sarcasm was scathing, something that cut through all of the bullshit in one fell stroke. It was almost amusing to him how the male painted himself. Not to say he was by any means pure, but he could tell when something was messed up.

”You made the mistake that all leaders make when they murder families. You let someone get away and I imagine you suffered dearly for it. Though I imagine it won’t be the last of it.” He sounded as if he knew something, swirling the ice cubes about before taking another sip. Getting information from Ryan had been easy, considering he did form a little trust with the male. Even still, it was a shock to hear that someone so nice had fallen to murdering daughters. It was almost discouraging, if only because he knew what that would do to his brother. ”But honestly your words mean nothing to me. The protesters were in my way, and they were annoying. Everyone's lucky I didn’t cut them down.” There was no hiding the fact that he could kill if he really wanted.

”I’ve seen the closest thing to utopia Mister Alba and it was run by a man much like yourself. When he wasn’t around, it fell into chaos and all his work was destroyed.” Another sips of the bourbon. ”Either way, why don’t we cut the holier than thou shit? Couldn’t really care less about what you think of me or why i’m doing this. I beat down a few people that took lynching a world leader into their hands. ” He gave a small shrug, setting the glass aside. ”Though honestly your organization isn’t that impressive. Despite that crock of shit you’re trying to feed me, one of those heads of yours was still beaten by a human and locked in their basement. The risen have fallen really low, huh?”

Did he really have to mention that? No he didn’t but it was nice to rub it in the wounds.

Lucius just shook his head the entire time Michael was talking. This guy acted as if he knew the truth of everything. When he failed to back up his claim of Lucius ruining everything he touched, he resorted to cherry picking the bad and ignoring the good. Lucius had already admitted he had done bad things, but that didn't make him poison to everything he touched, that made him immoral--no different from the kid sitting across from him.

"Oh, you've got me good, haven't you? No, no you don't. You think bringing up my daughter changes anything I said? You think my killing of that woman years ago punches a hole in my reasoning? It doesn't. I already admitted to doing immoral things. Those evils won't away, but you can't sit there and ignore the good I've done to paint me as some sort of complete monster without coming off as dense. I can point out faults in anyone all day long, but it doesn't make the right things they do go away," Lucius is said, grtting his teeth slightly. He wanted this kid out of here, if he were to be honest with himself. That said, this kid seemed to know quite a bit about him, and that warranted further investigation.

"Who's playing holier then thou? You're the one who called my morals into question first, so i would say it's up to you to cut that part of the conversation. All i did was point out your lack of room to talk, which seems to deplete the more the words pour out," Lucius said. He proceeded to continue to listen to the sarcasm and teenage narcissism, downing his glass of bourbon half way through. At some point Lucius just couldn't help but laughing. It was like he was being grilled by a school boy during recess.

"Would you give me an actual reason why I should stay away from the boy beyond baseless attacks on my character and the competency of my organization, please?! You're doing just as those fools in masks do; you're throwing insults and making declarations about who I am while dismissing anything that doesn't fit your predetermined narrative." You could tell Lucius was a bit angry now, and perhaps that was the intent. It was clear this Michael was trying to get under his skin from the start, otherwise Isalia wouldn't have been mentioned. Regardless, Lucius was on his last nerve.

"So what's the real reason here? Forgive me for assuming, but i just can't think this all revolves around someone like you having an issue with me murdering some scumbag's mother. What, did Silus forget to text you? Maybe he typed out 'TTYL, hanging with Red' one too many times?"