19148/... I Did Rule A Planet Once...

... I Did Rule A Planet Once...
Date of Scene:	24 September 2024
Location:	The Gardens
Synopsis:	Lorna treats the Juggernaut to a dinosaur steak after his brush with cultic enslavement. While attempting to lay the foundations for a proper relationship beyond Employer/Employed, she floats the idea of exploring ways to protect him from future incidents.
Cast of Characters:	Lorna Dane, Cain Marko

---

Lorna Dane has posed:
One of her own --

Cain is a mercenary paid to be a member of the Brotherhood, but it's an arrangement that's stood for years, reinforced by ready access to the organization and Genosha's resources, both; a degree of instinctive protection is natural, after a while

-- was nearly turned into a mindless weapon by the machinations of a mad god and his cult. That it's just one instance of tracking down the cruel handiwork of a destructive cult plaguing Lorna of late only intensified her resentment for the whole thing: bad enough they dared to co-opt an ally of the Brotherhood, but to do it along another foe's angle?

It's tacky.

The growing urgency of the Purifier situation plays into why it's taken so long for them to catch up with one another, to say nothing of his own recovery process. Lorna figured he could use the space anyway, and if he REALLY needed her, or them... he'd call.

-- or stubbornly refuse to, due to being invested with the incalculable power of the Juggernaut and thus feeling above such thing. That's also a possibility, but at least it'd come with signs to follow.

Ultimately, it's a lunch in the Asteroid's gardens that offers Lorna a reason beyond the obvious to call for him-- not that the obvious is above either of them, of course, the Juggernaut and the Matriarch of Magnetism.

It's just that the entire Cyttorak affair also happened to expose how little she knows of Cain, really-- so why not fix it over steak?

A lot of steak.

Flown in directly from the Savage Land and roasted to rare perfection, big enough to dominate a serving platter with its steaming bulk.

Polaris herself is wearing a sleeveless, collared black halter with shoulder cutouts, tightly fitted white slacks, and black heels with dark green rhinestones glittering around the toes and sides. Her hair's swept back into a braid threaded with gold and platinum strands.

Cain Marko has posed:
THe distant echoing *booms* of heavy footfalls and a not so subtle vibration begins to tremble the gardens... Rippling the fountains. Disturbing the waters. Shaking the bushes. Rustling the leaves. He's approaching.

Gentle steps and careful movement was never one of his strong points even when simply a mere mortal. He never moved with any sort of grace or need to restrain his presence. It does have the benefit of letting people know when he's coming at least though sometimes they might wish a sudden surrpise version the inexorable feeling that he's on his way - and can't be stopped. Such a feeling can invoke its own brand of terror and one most people would rather do without.

Today, however, that menace is subdued and the atmosphere remains without the pressure that usually accompanies his boiling rage or desturctive path. Instead, when The Juggernaut steps into view it is -- as Cain Marko. His gigantic figure is sans armor, sans helmet...sans the overwhelming immensity usually associated with the Avatar of Destruction and Physical Power. He's still gargantuan of course. That can never change. A mountain of a man equal even to Fred Dukes ... but his arrival without armor and helmet - wearing simple jeans and a tee shirt emblazoned with a cartoonish version of Godzilla looming over Tokyo, may speak volumes. He's never boarded the Asteroid without those on before. It's typically all business and a degree of distrust and self defense. Now he trundles in as if he were strolling into central park .. heavy footfalls aside. Even if his helmet was off he'd have his skullcap on but the Genoshan queen can see the mans roughly shaven, lightly bearded face in all its brooklyn-brawler thuggish glory. His blue eyes locking onto her as he draws nearer. She'd know his face anyway given her affiliations and experiences, let alone basic data banks but....still.

"Queenie..." he rumbles out, boulder like arms hanging at his sides and tee shirt straining under his bulk as he slows to a stop to look over the food.

"....You been cookin'."

Lorna Dane has posed:
His presence was planned for to the extent of picking a clearing with a wide path free of overhanging plants, to minimize the collateral damage.

Lorna still tenses at his approach. The sense that he just might break something - anything, not necessarily the plants - simply by existing near things follows him like a stampede's thunder. She has - if anything - only seen him in increasingly concerning stages of 'being the Juggernaut', ranging from 'chill; talking about Dazzler' to 'on the cusp of seizing the power of utmost Destruction'; even bringing him to Genosha to talk business left her with the distinctly renewed sense that he he was an act of god waiting to unfold, with the way he dominated the atmosphere of her meeting hall simply by choosing the right seat.

"... what the fuck--..."

So hopefully, she can be forgiven a little incredulous laughter and a lot of wide-eyed shock at the sight of a stubbly giant in a Godzilla tee. After gulping down a swallow of deep red wine, Lorna hops to her feet and approaches to reach for one of his hands with both of hers, intent on shaking it while looking aaaaaaaall the way up without so much as a token effort at disguising her disbelief at being granted a chance to take in Cain Marko in the flesh, for the first time.

"Someone cooked," she offers with a grin. "A normal ribeye, or whatever, that's one thing, but megafauna?" She clicks her tongue softly, shaking her head as she steps aside and gestures to the table. Both chairs are more than broad enough, heavy enough to fit him, having been sculpted from solid metal and upholstered with burgundy and violet in blended gradations.

"That is one hundred percent sauropod, straight from down south-- little like pork, if you've never had the opportunity." Cain has the money for establishments and events that might be liable to get their hands on such rare delicacies, but does he have the access? The interest? Looking at him without a scrap of armor, it's hard to be sure of anything about the Unstoppable Juggernaut, necessitating the most open of minds.

"There's a cherry demiglace-- Genoshan-grown cherries, of course," she adds. And wine, and an enormous bowl of mashed potatoes, another of buttered asparagus, another still of soft, steaming rolls...

"How have you been feeling, since Thailand?" she carefully asks, readily slipping into a concerned register.

Cain Marko has posed:
WIth his face so exposed to her, every expression reads loud and clear as if he were carrying and shouting through a bullhorn which is probably just adding to the absurdity of the moment as the full range of his emotions are on visible display. The crinkling of his eyes, the furrowing of his brow and the pursing of his lips as they pull up towards his nose in a surprised look at her initial reaction. This is then followed by a more mildly bemused look as he fully comes to understand why she's responding as she is. After all, it's not like they hang out on the regular back on ol'Terra Firma and prior to the arrangement with The Brotherhood she'd only have really dealt with him or read about him during 'working hours', so to speak.

So when she grasps his hands he allows the shake and then finally rumbles, "Aw...you went and cooked Little Foot fer little old me? That's some serious aristocratic flexing there, Queen..."

Curiousity burns in him now. Eating a perfectly presented steak made from that brand of meat? "Like an ol'episode of The Flintstones." he adds before allowing himself to be directed to the seats.

Then - the question.

The helmet is not there. His face is visible - and so is the visible darkening of his expression. He flits his gaze away from her and then reaches up to bring a massive hand against the back of his head, rubbing it in a gesture of mental weight and weariness as his other hand rests on his waist.

"...Thailand.." he repeats and then slowly continues, "I'm...uh....I"m fine. Better. Getting better. I... Look, sorry for taking so long to get to you. It..uh... I'd been meaning to reach out to you. I figured I owed you a talking to and...well...my thanks."

That last part tumbles out with the expected difficulty of a man who very rarely utters those words without at least some sort of sarcasm attached.

"Yeah...my thanks for stickin' it out, not givin' up on me. I had to go see Charles first is all and John Constantine kept getting me wrapped up in this stupid Galactus stuff. I owed him big time as well....and Charles..."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"Don't worry about it," Lorna says with a smile and a sweep of her hand.

"I've been..."

Hunting the Deacon's murder cult, preparing for conflict;
    Squeezing in precious time with little ones;
        Slipping into the cracks of Jen's schedule;
            Falling for a fantasy princess at startling speeds--
                    "... Busy, also."

Lorna drops back into her own chair and draws her legs up to rest comfortably on the cushion while it slides itself against the table.

"Any of it-- if anything, you can consider this a make-up for letting-- that," is said with a twist of her lips and dismissive gesture, "be the thing to remind me that you're more than just an asset, Cain." Her hands come together in a loose knit, elbows propped on the table as she tilts forward. A carving knife and fork sitting against the platter lift into the air, the latter skewering the Bedrock-scale chop and the former smoothly gliding through it.

"And I want you to know," she adds, a little quieter-- a little more cautious, eyes trained unerringly on his, "that if you're ever willing to explore the possibility of making sure you're protected against future intrusions... I mean, I can't promise anything, but I do happen to know a woman who knows a little about gems." Despite the somber gravity of her offer, she can't help a small, fond smile.

"And magic," she adds as it grows. "... you deserve the consideration," she then says, the line on her lips shrinking minutely as her focus shifts. "Whatever else you are, whatever else you do when you aren't working with us... ... including letting Constantine hook you into fighting a space god--

"... I can't think of all that many other people I'd trust with the kind of power you've had for all this time-- not to mention the temptations that probably come with it," she lowly concludes, laying a slab of dinosaur meat across Cain's plate, followed by a drizzle of deep, dark red sauce courtesy of a steel ladle.

Cain Marko has posed:
The giant man flares his nostrils, scenting the smell of the meat in a gesture that'd probably make both Logan and Victor nod in approval. The pleasure of eating and drinking is ...well...a habit for him. He doesn't need to do it. Ever. Sometimes he just flat out forgets. But his tastebuds were not taken from him, nor his ability to enjoy such things. It's simply a different matter when you also lack the urgency of it being a requirement.

So he -really- wants to try this meat out.

When it's finally presented to him, Cain takes up the utensils with a practiced gesture that is not only in defiance of how immense his hands are but in any expectations that he'd just tear into it like some neanderthalish brute. Instead, he manipulates utensils and meat with the ease of someone raised in - well - a posh upstate New York environment.

A bite is taken as Lorna speaks and he savors the taste of - well - dinosaur. His eyes widen ever so slightly at it ..but then there is a slow pause and his gaze cuts back towards his green haired dining partner and there is a subtle, ever so subtle, tension that flickers across his features.

She means well. But it seems, she's found one of -those- sore spots. A complication of still trying to learn and figure this man-monster out.

He is silent for a long time. Too long, not chewing even. Then ..he begins to slowly finish the meat off and swallows in a deliberate act as if using that time to gather turbulent thoughts. His next statement is simple and to the point:

"Who?"

Lorna Dane has posed:
Subtle as the disturbance is, Lorna's looking for signs of dismay, well aware that what she has presented is far more significant than the ease with which it rolled from her tongue, and still prone to nervous tension when her prediction proves true. The giant is only so gentle; they only know each other so well, and her habit of cutting straight to the point of things is--

Who? sends tremors through the oldest parts of the Queen's brain.

"... well," she begins, quiet and careful as she works on cutting her own - substantially smaller - slab down to size. "If it helps, she's a sorceress from a place called Gemworld." Exhaling, Lorna drops her attention to the plate, finally.

As promised, the meat is -- like pork. It's got a similar color, a similar texture; it's unctuous and fatty and grassy, with the subtlest of shimmering green undertones visible from the right angle, under the right light. Earthiness abounds, dark and rich; combined with its deep and gamey overtones, it tastes distinctly unbound from even the idea of civilization-- a message from the ancient wilds bottled in protein and teased out to perfection by the Asteroid's kitchen.

"And she's been working closely with Constantine lately, besides: her name is Amethyst, and I trust her completely," Lorna offers him before taking a small bite of meat dripping with tart, semisweet cherry.

"... more importantly," she adds upon swallowing, "it's just something to consider: insurance against your patron fucking with you again. If it's something you even WANT..."

Piles of mashed potatoes are dumped onto both plates, and Lorna's is only so much smaller than Cain's.

"I mean... how do you feel, now that you've gotten some space for the whole thing?" she softly wonders as the corners of her eyes crinkle with concerned contemplation. "About all of it--? I don't know much at all about your relationship to the gem, the power, the patron, any of it," accompanies another bite of steak being gathered onto a fork along with a thick, creamy potato smear.

"What's it like? What do you want from it--?"

Cain Marko has posed:
"It's complicated."

There's an understatement. That chill still remains. He's a high magnitude quake when he's in a good mood or just doing casual brawling. Losing it? That's another matter.

And it's a matter that is still weighing on him. He avoids looking at her, looking instead at the meat now but no longer looking quite as enthused as he was before - despite the taste or the investment of the moment and the unique meal.

Finally, he sighs, emitting a low rumbling tone of acceptance - as if figuring the moment of lunch was too good to last. "I can't blame you fer being concerned... I kinda got screwed up there, huh? I kinda screwed up...." he grunts, once more acknowledging fault and limitations. Baby steps.

"Amethyst. I know her."

Surprise! Cain's affiliations are seemingly more tangled then one might presume. "...I've been uh, kinda working off and on with this group called The Justice League Dark." Another surprise perhaps. The Juggernaut is a Justice League member. "They're kinda....how do I put it, Mystic Black Ops. Figured I'd help 'em out from time to time. Have fun punching out Cthulhu. Plus I got a kick out of being on something affiliated with The Justice League. SOmething to hold over folks heads.. That's why John Constantine showed up at the temple. I guess he's kinda okay with me." Cain allows a wane smile but it vanishes again as he gets more serious once again, ike a distant but slowly approaching thunderstorm,

"....Anyway, I think I know who yer talkin' about. There was some demon thing I helped 'em deal with and she was there. Good kid. Actually set up a good move for me to knock the thing on its ass... Real dramatic anime-girl lookin' chick."

He pauses, collecting his thoughts and then moves to set the fork into the meat again but doesn't raise it to his mouth yet. "Listen...you gotta....you gotta understand. I've been The Juggernaut longer then Magneto and Charles have known each other and been feudin'. It's not like I'm keeping the power safe from anything. Maybe it seems that way but...it's not like I haven't wanted more power on my own terms or gone after it. This thing with Cyttorak... It's not the sorta thing that's safe to mess with. I don't care if she's on par with Doctor Strange. Cyttorak isnt' something to play with."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Green brows rise--

The Juggernaut is a Justice League member. The Justice League shares hypothetical, conceptual space with the Avatar of Destruction, and--

... honestly, there's a level on which it just fits. A level low enough, gray enough with miasmic sardonicism to put a small, taut smile on her lips; how often have the two gone hand in hand, the pursuit of justice and destruction? Why does the one follow so readily in the other's wake?

Maybe his presence among them marks a level of heightened awareness of the grim realities underpinning justice-- total justice, grim and equitable and applicable even to the machinery that keeps the world turning as smoothly as it manages to. If only subconsciously.

It's a nice thought, anyway.

"... 'dramatic' is putting it mildly," Lorna ultimately murmurs, that smile having softened considerably and compulsively as fondness edges cynicism aside for the moment.

Given a moment to take a deep breath, however, she manages to give the rest of his account the sobered, receptive gaze it's due, keeping her eyes trained on his while her hands fold beneath her chin, leaving utensils standing on end and waiting. Lips pursed, she nods thoughtfully as he explains the inglorious truth of his connection-- only to briefly pause, then glower at the end. It isn't the implication that Amethyst might not be up to the task of manipulating a powerful, ancient extradimensional force through its ancient totem so much as:

"Neither are my people."

which slips out with hardly a thought to delay it, or potentially cool the inflamed determination flaring in her eyes.

"And even though you aren't a Mutant... even though you're a member of the fuckin' Justice League..." comes with a flicker of disbelieving mirth, "... even if you're a guy with the power of a god who wants more, sometimes, who I pay to hit things... you are one of my people, Cain."

By the end, there isn't even a ghost of sarcasm, irony, or anything else approaching humor: there's a protective gleam in her right eye that's bright enough to sparkle, and the adamantine promise of trouble for anyone, anything foolish enough to threaten him again.

As if he isn't the Juggernaut.

As if he's just Cain, her sometimes colleague who shows up to solve problems and eat startling amounts of cafeteria food.

"And I'm not gonna push anything on you; just know I've got your back," she concludes. Slipping the stem of her glass between two fingers, she cups it to her mouth for a deep sip and finally lets her gaze slip from his, exhaling slowly into the wine before it hits her lips.

Cain Marko has posed:
The giant man is silent, meeting Lorna's gaze now with the unflinching weight of his sharp blue eyes. His expression becomes more reserved, restrained and even guarded for a moment there.

But his poker face breaks and he ends up closing his eyes and leaning back while running a massive hand over his face once again. When he finishes, he lets his arm drop his side, elbow and hand resting across a giant leg as his head tilts back and up to look towards the ceiling of the high vaulted garden.

"Man... John, Charles...now you. I must be...lookin' pretty pathetic and rattled right now. Everybody wantin' to protect me and stuff like I aint the damn Juggernaut..."

Did her words backfire there? Triggering some sort of ego based reflexive response. There's a heavy moment of dead weight there and then...Cain just leans forward.

"Thanks." he rumbles again. "...It's good t'know folk have my back."

Another baby step perhaps. "Listen, I'm not sayin' absolutely not to whatever it's just...basically ..you said earlier about trust and temptation. That's not really what it is. It's -because- I want the power and want to use it ...to prove my power, my strength...that I'm the way I am. It's part of the equation. Sure, if say Doctor Doom got ahold of the crystal and became The Juggernaut he'd access it in a different way or maybe use it more deliberately then me. We just don't have the same interests and drive. That's what Malphegor pitched to Cyttorak, not realizing he was just playing into Cyttorak's own game from the get go. That he'd use the power the way it was meant to be used."

Cain slowly leans forward, and for the first time since this talk that 'Ol'Juggernaut Feeling' starts to settle over the conversation. That looming feeling of a conversation with an incoming meteor impact.

"So it might -seem- like I'm ...using the power responsibly but...don't lull yerself into thinking that I wouldn't rip Mount Everest from its moorings if given the chance just to make Thor and Hulk look like a shallow hundred and twenty pound weakling next to me if I got pushed into the mood to do so....and it aint hard to push me.."

It's not a threat or a promise of harm to her but natural disasters don't threaten specific individuals to feel catastrophic.

Then he leans back and seems to shrink back to a more restrained presence once again, "...I'm not vetoing talkin' to the girl. But I aint gonna risk losing my power...."

Lorna Dane has posed:
The Juggernaut is - conceptually - an ineffable and nigh-infinite power channeled from an extradimensional source into a singular human conduit. Its limits, its nature, its precise applications beyond the obvious are all a mystery. So as its present bearer leans across the table, a question naturally arises in Polaris:

Can he feel it, somehow?

The steady rise of her heartrate? Her mouth drying out? Lungs crumpling as tension squeezes them clean?

The mounting dread invoked by the fullness of his presence falling across the conversation and her spirit, locked behind clenched jaws and quickening breaths?

When she slowly asks him:

"... and would you crush the enemies of Mutantkind beneath that mountain if I asked you to?" in low, taut tones, "If we needed you to?"

Is it enough that she keeps her voice from trembling?

"You AREN'T a hero, and that's fine. You wanna be more powerful, strong... and that's fine," she deliberately murmurs, "because as best as I can tell... you also just wanna live your life. You bought a penthouse when you could be lording over a citadel or something-- that's why I trust you."

... there's no hiding the way her shoulders drop when the tension recedes along with Cain himself. Nor the soft, brisk sigh; nor the way she sinks back in her chair as if coming down from a marathon.

"... if this conversation happens," she quietly offers, "then it's just that: talking; nothing binding. Nothing that'd risk what you have; just a chance to consider options."

Cain Marko has posed:
"...I did rule a planet once..."

Cain lets that slip...followed by a slow growing lopsided grin as his eyes narrow ever so slightly. He -could- be joking....

Or maybe he -does- have that capacity in him. His grin says he's being sarcastic.

It also says he's being very serious.

"...I would crush the enemies of mutant kind..." he finally affirms. "...but maybe depending on who was asking and why...I might crush a mutant as well..." he admits, his expression becoming more neutral as he walks through this with her. He saw her tension. He senses the need for her to understand him more. She's -trying- to. That counts for something here and mounting confusion and contradiction boils within him more and more.

"Listen, this is..." he stammers, haltingly now and pushing the meat away as if contemplating an early departure. "...Look I'm ...this is becoming more then just me doing a job for a paycheck, isn't it? Just like it's happened with Justice League Dark. There's personal attachment now that I gotta navigate with all of you. I can't make promises I can't keep but I can say I got The Brotherhood's back. Just know yer walkin' a tightrope..andsooner or later it's gonna snap."

He finally digs into the meat again, plunging a fork down into the offering of food.

"I'll listen to what she suggests. I owe you all that much."