[Fiction] Steel Heart

[z-Carver]

Sunlight poured into Carver's studio, rich and nearly blood-red from the setting sun. The graceful nova stared silently out the window, basking in the warmth and glow. Harry was coming over to pick her up for dinner, at some point. As his job took more and more of his time, Carver felt more and more resentment toward his wrestling. She had hid it so far - after all, her work could take up days of her time, and since she didn't have to sleep, she didn't even spend every night sleeping next to him. When the work caught at her, drew her away, she was gone as much or more than he was.

Behind her, the prancing horse was almost done, and the white marble of his construction seemed to glow with fire as the dying sunlight touched him. He was for a race stable in Japan - one of those places that had more money than land. He would be finished tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. Soon enough to please her quietly picky clients.

The refurbished Greenwich Village apartment was a delight to the anxious young artist, and Carver sighed with more contentment than sorrow after a moment of consideration of her place. Sure it wasn't perfect; sometimes in deep winter, the sun was blocked by the Twin Towers, and the cargo elevator sometimes rattled loudly when it carted her stones up to the sixth floor. But the landlord had even given her access to the roof, so that she could have material flown in and placed directly on the elevator, and the view was killer. Overall, Carver loved the building with it's colorful, polite residents; she would have considered living there if not for the fact that she loved their spacious apartment on the Island a little more.

Behind her, the horse squealed suddenly, a harsh sound nothing like the soft noises he had been making until now. Frowning, Carver stepped back further into the room, suddenly wary. That noise - it was a warning. Something dangerous was coming.

[Wargear]

Her stereo system began to hum softly, a hint of feedback that lingered a moment before fading, a whiffof ozone slipping through her open window and tingled in her nostrils just below the level of human perception; her keen ears caught a hint of something massive vibrating the support beams of the building as something settled on the roof. Then stillness, silence, and the slowly dying sun again filled the apartment... along with a quiet, unshakable sense of foreboding.

[z-Carver]

Most people would have snuck up the stairs to see what was on the roof. Or they would have called security or something akin to that. Carver was not like anyone else.

"Anyone wanna tell me what's up there?" she asked the room, glancing around at the various pieces of art scattered around the room. "Or should I start guessing?"

The room was quiet, and Carver shrugged; as her shoulders rose and fell, they darkened, turning black. The darkness rippled down her body; her eufiber reshifted itself into a sunset catsuit. Making sure her hair was tucked into place, Carver activated her silence and opened her window. Completely silent, she began to climb the side of the building, just on more fire-drenched feature, bloodied by the sun.

[Wargear]

The shadows had gathered thick on the roof by the time Carver reached it, casting the blood-rimmed strands of light in stark relief, and it took her sharp eyes a moment to pick the dark-clad woman out of the shadows; it was her stillness that did it, the complete absence of motion that allowed her long black trenchcoat and long ebony hair to fade almost invisibly into the darkness. The block of steel, on the other hand, was a glaringly obvious addition to her roof: the polished metal caught the dying red sun and cast it back into the city in glittering streams of crimson.

[z-Carver]

Well, this is special,* Carver thought, slipping back below the edge of the building. It appeared to be a customer, and Carver began to skitter back down the side of the building. As she slipped into the room, her catsuit became a professional looking pants suit done in a dove gray color. The red blouse was the only touch of color beside the pale nova's strange hair.

Moving quickly across the room, Carver got her cargo dolly. She could move the block by herself, probably, but it wasn't easy to balance with one person carrying it. So the dolly was a necessity.

Five minutes later, the elevator rumbles to the roof and Carver throws up the wooden slats. "Hi," she said, holding a hand up to block out the sun's glare. "I assume your looking for me?"

[Wargear]

“If your name happens to be Jael Carver, then that would be correct.” The woman's voice was smooth and graceful, just the hint of a British accent almost erased by years of world travel, and when she turned to face Carver there was a glimpse of cool gray eyes and elegant Pakistani features before the shadows reduced her to a slender black silhouette against the sky. “I wished to have a gift prepared for a friend of mine, and I understand that you provide a... unique service in that regard.” There was the hint of a smile to the woman's voice as she continued, a gloved hand brushing long strands of dark hair back into place as the wind toyed with them. “As you can see, I've brought the materials for the project. I hope they will prove sufficient to your needs?” The words framed a question, but the voice was the cool steel of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

[z-Carver]

"Actually, it's Jael Willa Carver, but for simplicities sake, just call me Carver," the stripe-haired nova said easily, smiling at the mystery woman. There were no visible aberrations to offer any clues to her identity, and there was still that unnerving stillness she had displayed earlier.

Business first. If the woman proved to be dangerous, Carver could probably get away from her. "Hmm... this block of steel? Iron? Titanium? It'll probably be ok, depending on the dimensions you're wanting, which we can discuss once we've agreed to do this. It's not some super-nova made alloy, is it? Because if it's crazy-stong, then I may not be able to cut it at all."

Carver turned back, still studying the woman carefully. No visible weapons, but no visible machinery either, so the woman was either super-strong or had a gadget to move the block to the roof. Or a nova friend nearby. "Just to let you know, I'm not sure I can have it done any sooner than a couple of weeks, maybe longer if the metal is resistant. If that's a problem, you need to find someone else."

Carver eased the mental link to Harry open, filling him in on the situation in the space of a second. His worry flooded back; while the woman had offered no threat, she didn't exactly drip with good will either. *Who is she? I don't know her,* Harry asked, his mental chorus agitated.

*Let's find out,* Carver answered. "Before we go much further, though, I need your name. And if giving me that is going to be a problem, I can't accept your commission." Perhaps that statement was aggressive for an artist, but Carver had earned the right to be wary of strange novas - especially strange women. Even now, she could feel Harry watching her mind attentively, looking for the first sign that she was being overrun by this stranger.

[Wargear]

"Carver. I see." The woman's voice was approving, as though the crisp simplicity and functionality of the name pleased her. She continued with the calm, precise pride of an engineer, gesturing to the gleaming block of metal behind her. "Ten feet by six feet; steel-titanium, to prevent rusting and wearing. Machine tools could cut it well enough; I was more interested in long-term durability than raw tensile strength. It should respond well to your work, and as for endurance.... well, it will last long enough.” The sun settled imperceptibly lower as she spoke, shadows spilling out around her, and the dying red sun flared behind the fall of her hair as though it were there to frame her. “I've budgeted up to a month and a half for you to finish the composition, though of course I do hope you can have it done sooner. Things will be rushed if you need the full allotment.”

The blinding crimson light shimmering off the metal pillar began to fade, and as it did Carver could begin to pick out details from the silhouette a few at a time. Heeled leather boots to the knee, firmly polished and immaculately clean. A heavy cloth trenchcoat, black, falling well past the tops of the boots, without any of the characteristic bulges of nova-scale weaponry. A hugging, sensibly cut bodysuit that glittered with the distinctive sheen of eufiber and a flat black set of harnesses that framed her torso. Long black hair gathered intricately at the back of her head and spilling down nearly to her waist. High, aristocratic cheekbones. Full lips, paler against her skin. Piercing, gunmetal gray eyes.

“Doctor Alexandra Rothstein, Miss Carver. A delight to make your acquaintance.” Her lips curved in a slow smile that was pure velvet, and unmistakably steel beneath. “I do hope the pleasure won't be entirely mine.”

[z-Carver]

I see no offer of a hand with the good doctor, Carver thought without a glimpse of her internal thoughts on her face. "It's good to meet you, Dr. Rothstein," Carver said evenly, even managing a smile.

*She's a predator, this one*, that dark voice whispered, and Carver fought not to roll her eyes.

*No shit, Jael,* Carver replied, even as she wondered once again about the unholy trinity that made up the parts of Carver. *Even Willa can tell she's dangerous.*

*She's not as dangerous as me,* Jael whispered, then would speak no more.

Ignoring the most tempermental part of her trinity, Carver ran an appraising hand down the side of the block. "I'm sure we'll both gain pleasure from his meeting," the stripe-haired nova said, her voice distant. Part of her was listening to her client, but another was waiting for that whisper from deep inside the metal.

Her strobing gray eyes focused on Wargear with a startling suddenness. "What do you want me to do with this?"

[Wargear]

There was a moment's pause, like the silent gathering of the sky before a roll of thunder, and Alexandra's smile faded a fraction as her eyes shifted from Carver to the cool surface of the metal from which her own reflection looked back at her with scarcely more warmth than the steel itself. She cocked her head fractionally, the piercing insight of the mind behind those eyes an almost tangible presence in the air around them, and Carver was distantly aware of the scent of ozone before those fierce gray eyes shifted back to her own and put every other consideration firmly out of her mind. “I had been given to understand that you have a certain talent for finding the proper form for things which your clients had not been able to put precisely into words. A gift for the expression of hidden truth, if you will.” She gestured to the metal with a gloved hand, a precisely encompassing movement as crisp as a battlefield command. “My only request is that you find the proper shape for my gift, whatever that may turn out to be. I trust I do not ask too much?” Her voice shifted slightly on the question, almost playful in its challenge as one savant tossing the velvet gauntlet down to the other, then faded back to the crisp intensity that would have sent shivers up Mythic's spine. “Beyond that, I would no more try to dictate to your artistic talents than I would allow you to dictate to me the proper form for an engineering project. It would hardly be an intelligent use of your gifts.”

[z-Carver]

Oh, god, not again, Carver gulped to herself. The last time-

*The last time, we weren't ready for what happened,* Mythic gently pointed out. His love brushed over her soul like a passing band of warm spring rain, cleansing and refreshing. The tension from remembering the harrowing time she was sculpting Vulcania faded away, leaving her calmer and happier.

"I can do that," Carver said easily, nodding as she ran her fingers over a slight flaw in the surface of hte metal. "But before I agree, I have to know something." How to phrase this without sounding like a nut? Wargear was clearly waiting for her question, and Carver pushed forward. "Did the material of the statue come from a place of violence or high emotion?"

[Wargear]

"It was created entirely in my laboratory." By my own powers, no less Alexandra thought but did not add. Her response was without emphasis, but one elegant eyebrow curved slightly as though in carefully restrained curiosity. "The original materials were freshly mined when I obtained them, from thoroughly unremarkable locations. It is, in that sense, virgin material. I trust that will not present a problem?"

[z-Carver]

"No, in fact, it might have been a problem if you had gotten it from somewhere like that," Carver admitted. "I work off the resonances from the stone... or whatever. If it's been somewhere that's been strongly influencing, then that can interfere with my... reading, or whatever you wanna call it. For this to not have influences means that it can be what it's supposed to be."

Carver turned to Wargear. "I'll do it. Is a couple of weeks ok?"

[Wargear]

"A couple of weeks will be quite sufficent. I'm planning delivery on or about the twenty-third of April, with a week to two weeks for shipping and the like." Alexandra considered Carver for a moment, those piercing gray eyes seeming to peel her open and lay her individual pieces out in the open air for examination, then extended a gloved hand. "A deal, then?"

[z-Carver]

Carver realized she hadn't mentioned fees, but she mentally shrugged it away. She didn't need the money, not with what Mythic was making and her own influx of cash from her occassional sales. And not to mention the commission work she had coming to her pretty regularly.

Besides, there was something delightfully curious about this woman, and Carver was intrigued enough by this project to forget about money. Or at least, accept it on a donation basis.

"Deal," Carver said, grasping the hand for the first time.

[Wargear]

The handshake was quick and firm, despite her surprisingly delicate hands. Alexandra's smile widened slightly, a knowing glimmer in her eyes as she took back her hand to reach into an inner pocket and extend a folded slip of paper. "I trust this will be sufficent as payment?"

[z-Carver]

Carver took the paper and glanced at the sum before closing the paper. She was aware of how this dance worked; she was supposed to be impressed by the sum, but not too impressed. Grateful rather than fawning, as it were. But the numbers that seared across Carver's brain made the patron-artist game hard to play.

Her mind almost shorted out at the amount. Did I... did I really see that!?

She didn't check the paper again. To do so would be déclassé in the extreme. "Yes, of course," Carver said. She would have said the same thing, with the exact same tone, if the paper had been smeared with dog crap as well. Though in all honestly, had it been smeared in dog crap, Carver might have been hard pressed to find motivation for her work.

[Wargear]

Alexandra smiled then, a knowing little smile that said all to clearly she knew exactly what games were being played and that Carver's face had said everything their was to say about the numbers in her hand. "I'll transfer ownership of a local account to you by the end of the day. Half the amount now, half on delivery, as is my usual policy." Her hair caught slightly in the light breeze as she half-turned, watching the last of the sun's disk slip beneath the horizon. "Is there anything else you need to know before you begin?"

[z-Carver]

"Sounds good," Carver managed to say smoothly, despite the fact that she so badly wanted to check the paper again. She stared at the woman who had walked in so nonchalantly and dropped a small fortune in her lap for a single statue.

But in a sense, Dr. Rothstein wasn't purchasing a statue. She was purchasing Carver's talents; in short, she was paying Carver to find the perfect art, the absolute best expression of this piece of material. And Carver would do her best.

"No, I don't need anything else," Carver said firmly, lining the massive block of stone up with the dolly. "I'll be in touch around April 23."

[Wargear]

The tall block of metal slid itself onto the dolly with a low grinding sound like the gnashing of vast teeth, and Alexandra flashed Carver a faint smirk as she stepped to the edge of the roof. "I'd wish you luck, Carver, but I suspect your skill will more than suffice." Then she was gone, vanished into the night sky with only the swirl of the wind in her wake.

[z-Carver]

Carver dropped the polishing rag and smiled at her sculpture, proud of the way that it shone in the natural light in her studio. It had come out better than she had hoped, but she still wasn't sure what it was. Well, she knew what it was, but she wasn't sure why she had done this.

Man, this doesn't seem like enough for the amount of money she gave me, Carver sighed, tilting her head to study the finished statue critically. The woman who was the subject was standing in a simple business suit, looking away to the side. Well, she was looking to the side if you stood at the front of the metallic statue. Carver wasn't sure how she knew this was the front of the piece, just that she was sure that the woman wasn't supposed to be looking at her.

It gave the statue a coldness, a distance. Carver frowned, feeling melancholy roll through her for no good reason. The statue... that sense of despair and sadness... it's coming from the statue. Or rather... it's what I should be feeling... maybe?

The woman was looking away, but she also had a hand extended behind her, toward the viewer. It was held up in a dismissive 'wait here' motion, as if she was carelessly holding someone away from herself. Her other hand was reaching the same direction the woman's face was pointing, and it was open, beseeching, perhaps unsure.

Carver looked at her face, noting again that it looked familiar. Still the artist couldn't place it; she finally just decided that whomever she was, she was fairly famous but not hugely so. Yeah, I'm getting a total, "Hey, it's THAT Guy" vibe from her. I wonder who she is...

"I'm really not sure this is worth two million," Carver groaned, knowing that there was nothing to do now but present it and hope.

[Wargear]

Two days. She'd made the call, gotten an answering service, let Alexandra know it was finished, and then there had been nothing to do but wait.

Two days.

Carver got the drop cloth over the statue, preparing for the big reveal to Dr. Rothstein. She wished that she had a display area to show off the statue to its fullest. Maybe she'd take the money and do just that; build a small viewing area for future art. Regardless, she didn't have that now.

Turning in a small circle, she looked for another way to pass the time until Rothstein arrived. Finally, she swept the floor, even though she had already done that about thirty minutes ago. Why couldn't she just relax and wait like a normal person? But the fear that Alexandra might not like the sculpture kept her in motion.

Finally, the buzzer. She wasn't expecting anyone else today, which meant the odds were that her client was now on her way up to the studio. At least she's using the elevator this time. It was gallows humor, but it would have to do. Giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, Carver tried to quiet the butterflies in her stomach and went to meet her client.

Whatever Carver was expecting, though, it wasn't the elegant woman waiting for her at the door; the elaborately bound up hair that fell nearly to her hips, the tastefully subdued blue and red and black of her formal sari, the careful poise balanced on delicate heels. For a moment she found herself wondering if Alexandra had sent a relative, a sister perhaps... but then their eyes met, and there was no mistaking the cool authority of that steel gray gaze. Alexandra's lips curved in a delicate smile, and she inclined her head slightly as though taking in Carver and the entire room at once; it made Carver feel somehow small and fragile, like a mouse under the gaze of an owl, and she was wordlessly relieved when Alexandra finally broke the moment by speaking. “Good afternoon, Carver. I trust I am not too early? Your message was not precise as to when I should arrive, but I wanted to allow myself enough time to examine the sculpture before the lecture I'll be giving this evening.”

[z-Carver]

"No, no, you're right on time," Carver said with a smile, gesturing Wargear inside. "Love the dress, by the way." The stripe-haired nova turned and looked at the only draped object in the room. "There it is, ready for you to see." Remember: at most, you'll give her a seventy-five percent refund, at the most. She gave you no criteria, so if she doesn't like it, then next time she should give you some idea of what she wants. So seventy-five percent back, because you don't want to wholly piss her off. And she did provide the materials.

"Ready?" Carver said, taking an edge of the dropcloth in hand and waiting for Alexandra's indication.

"No, don't," the statue whispered, the first sound it had made. Carver turned her head to look up at that shrouded face, unable to keep the surprise off of her face. She looked even more startled when it added, "You'll hurt her."

Sure, now you start yapping, Carver sighed, but she knew the drill; do what they wanted, or suffer annoyance. Even through Wargear had already indicated for her to throw off the cover, Carver asked again, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

[Wargear]

“Well, it doesn't do to wear one's work clothes to an academic banquet.” Alexandra took the compliment in stride, a wry smile on her lips as she stepped into the room and examined the dropcloth-draped object with restrained curiosity. When her gesture of acknowledgment to Carver's first attempt to remove the covering resulted in the repetition of the question, she arched an elegant eyebrow in dry amusement. “I assure you, Carver, you performance anxiety is unnecessary. I have full confidence in your abilities or I would not have hired you. Now, if you would...?” She gestured to the drop cloth again, attention focused on it with the rapt anticipation of an audience about to witness a great feat of magic.

[z-Carver]

"It's not me I'm worried about," Carver muttered, but her duty was done. Her arm yanked on the thin tarp and the cover slid off in a crackling rush. The sun came from behind the clouds at that moment, and the sudden addition of light added to Wargear's feat of magic.

Carver turned to see Wargear's reaction to the revelation of the statue, wondering if it would be as bad as the statue had indicated.

[Wargear]

It was subtle at first, like the crackle of ice giving way under a fraction too much pressure; if Carver hadn't been looking at her directly, she might not have seen it at all. Alexandra's skin paled slightly, lips parting on a soft sound that died in her throat, and her whole body went ever so noticeably rigid as though someone had driven a sword through her belly and begun to twist. She walked past Carver slowly, unsteadily, as though she and the statue were the only real things in the entire world.

Her fingers brushed the steel of the statue's outstretched hand, hesitated, leaned against it as though for support, and her head dipped forward slightly until her expression was lost behind of veil of her dark hair; for a moment she was still, only the slight trembling of her shoulders giving a hint of what she might be thinking, and the whisper that slid out of her was almost too soft to be heard at all.

Almost.

“Rachel.” A name, two syllables, perhaps half a dozen letters, spoken so softly it was more an escaping breath than a word. Yet even so the weight of festered pain and longing in it was thick enough to choke the air out of the room.

[z-Carver]

"I told you so," the statue said softly, and Carver glared at it.

"Yes, I know," she muttered as softly as she could, watching her client. Carver could tell that this statue had touched on some deep emotional pain, and she wasn't sure what she should do now. Apologize? For making the very statue that Wargear had invoked her powers to make?

"This is what she asked for, in her own way," the metallic Rachel said. "She asked you to express what she can't."

Stop telling me about things I shouldn't know, Carver thought, her inner voice agonized. This is her pain. It shouldn't be dragged out and aired in front of a stranger. "Do you need... something?" Carver hestitantly asked.

[Wargear]

“No.” Alexandra's voice trembled slightly, steadied as she drew herself up, eyes still locked on the statue but some of her poise slowly clicking back into place like individual scales of armor being bolted back onto a frame. “Pardon me. I did not intend to be rude. It is... a very remarkable likeness.” She slowly forced herself back a step, then another, the almost physical pain every movement seemed to cause her nearly hidden behind the careful precision of each motion. “It took me somewhat by surprise, that's all.”

[z-Carver]

"No, that's not rude, not for an artist," Carver said with a gentle smile. "Art is supposed to draw out an emotional reaction... just usually not from being something so... personal. And I don't mind you touching her; she's yours, after all." Two million yours, as a matter of fact. "I was just worried that you were gonna..." Faint? A nova? "... not be ok. Physically." Lame!

"Well, I tried to my best," Carver said. "I'm glad she passes muster." She tilted her head back and looked up at the woman's face. Rachel. I'll have to do some research. But for now, Carver waited for the other nova to make the next move.

[Wargear]

“Mine.” Alexandra's lips twisted into something that might have been mistaken for a smile. “Yes, I suppose she is, isn't she?” She half-turned, the bitterness faded into something almost wistful as her eyes lingered on the statue's face. “And cheap at the price, too...”

She drew herself up slowly after a lingering moment, reassembling herself into the coldly elegant woman who'd walked through the door a few moments before; it was a very nearly perfect illusion, and if Carver hadn't watched it snap back into existence a piece at a time she might have missed the cracks in the facade completely. “The piece is quite... satisfactory. I'd like to make preparations for having it delivered, tonight or tomorrow if possible. Will that be a problem?”

[z-Carver]

"Not at all. Just let me know when and how, and I'll be here to open up," Carver said. *Hon, we don't have anything going on tomorrow, do we?*

*Your sister for dinner, aren't we? She had something to tell us, remember?*

*Of course. Kisses to you.*

*Kisses for now,* Mythic said in reply, and Carver could almost hear his grin. *I expect something more substantial than kisses tonight.*

Carver didn't answer; she didn't need to. Mythic could feel the rush of eagerness from her.

"Oh, except I have plans for dinner, so before six, please," Carver added with a quick blush, returning her attention to Wargear. "Sorry, it's family, so it slipped my mind. When and how would you like to get it?"

[Wargear]

“I'll have one of the local shipping concerns come by and collect it before five.” Back on the solid ground of business, some of the warmth seeped back into Alexandra's voice, though Carver couldn't help but notice the way the other woman's eyes carefully avoided the statue. “You can expect the second transfer of funds to the account this evening, as we negotiated. Your work is... greatly appreciated.” She took Carver's hand, shook it firmly, offered her the ghost of a smile. “I expect I'll see you around, Carver.”

[z-Carver]

"Sounds good," Carver said, the hard part over. Wargear liked the statue, and she was picking it up tomorrow. After today, Carver would be thrilled to get it out of here. The thing was riddled with pain and nasty emotional vibes and Carver didn't particularly like it anymore. Besides, she had said, "I told you so," and Carver hated shit like that.

She shook Wargear's hand firmly and gave her a full smile. "Probably will. Say, what's your lecture about? If I can ask."

[Wargear]

"The asymetric potential of automated technology in nova-level warfare and its effect on the historical role of combat leadership." Alexandra's lips curved in a dry smile. "You'd probably sleep through it, but the faculty are quite excited. Speaking of which, I should be on my way. It wouldn't do to be late to my own banquet." She offered Carver a final nod, walked to the door, hesitated. Risked a look over her shoulder at the sculpture, lingering for a long agonizing moment. And then the door closed behind her with a sharply audible click.