tushanshu_logs | Closed;

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Characters: Jim Kirk (

jirk), Khan (

khan_artist)
Date: September 8th
Location: Fire Sector
Situation: So a genetically-engineered human augment walks into a bar...
Warnings/Rating: Physical violence.

Most of Khan's finances, weapons, and food came from shaking down the numerous gangs in the Fire Sector. Now that he had relocated to another suite, one with three floors, he had spent most of his juulan customizing it to suit his needs and now he needed more. Grabbing his hooded trench coat, phaser pistol that Jim had given him, and a few well placed knives on his person; Khan left his suite.

Finding them would be easy enough since he already knew which establishments were paying them protection money. One of them was one of the older bars that could be easily be missed were one driving by, a rare thing in the sector since most of it's buildings were rather lavish.

Pausing only briefly to eye the red car outside, obviously one from Earth, Khan walked into one of the very few dive bars in the Fire Sector. Here he could simply wait for them to arrive, their collection schedule simple enough for him to figure out.

However, he wasn't the only foreigner here.

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You ever get the feeling that somebody walked over your grave? Jim had a moment like that, his drink halfway lifted to his mouth. Not his first of the evening, not by a long shot, but his hand was steady and his head still clear. Enough to notice that he recognized the man that came through the door.

Khan.

Jim's fingers tightened on his glass. Why the hell was someone like Khan still here when so many other people had disappeared? Why did he get to stay (why did Jim get to come back?) when so many other people deserved it more?

You know what, he got it. He got being protective of your crew. Wanting to do anything to protect them. Willing to die for them, the way Khan was. But that didn't give him the right to rip other families apart. Pike's still dead. Jim still hunched over his cooling body and cried.

He tossed off the rest of the drink. (Bourbon, one of Pike's favourites) and then he made his way over to Khan absolutely without preamble. "You and me. Outside," he snarled.

After seeing that car, it was little surprise to him that it belonged to Jim.

Red. Sporty. Fast. Built to stand out and show off.

There were a number of vitriolic remarks that came to mind. Swipes ranging from alcohol to something as simple as manners. A brief moment passed where he considered the man before him, analyzing what he could of the situation in the small window he had before making a decision.

Wordlessly, he turned his head slightly before turning around completely and heading back outside.

Jim held his crew over his head and if it took this small indulgence to keep them there then he would do so.

For now.

The fact that Khan didn't even fight him actually made his anger flare hotter, and Jim had to press his lips into a thin line to keep from snarling at him right there in the midst of the crowd. Instead, he followed Khan out into the street.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Khan didn't drink. Why would he? Even the best kedan alcohols would metabolize too quickly in his system, and on top of that, this was one of the shadier establishments in town.

Jim was drunk, or so close to it there wasn't room to spit, and he was having trouble finding or thinking of rational explanations for Khan's presence that didn't end in he's trying to take away everything I have again and finally he gave into the urge to snap, "Answer me."

Being easy to read was one thing, but when Kirk was fairly inebriated there was hardly anything left to speculation. At the question, Khan took his time in thinking of an answer.

Or rather, he was taking his time.

There again was the compulsion to drawl out admonishment over whether or not James did this to every patron that entered. After staring at the man for a solid second, he started off without breaking stride in his words.

"Gathering resources from one of the many groups of criminals in the sector. They will be at this bar tonight to collect their usual fee from the owner. Currently, they are desperate to gain numbers and money is vital to do so." The gangs were simple, thugs. They were easy to figure out, their patterns, and their intentions.

The urge to dig in at Jim's ignorance of the situation, a step for him to firmly place his boot upon, is strong. But again, he is indulging the man and his face remains unfazed, the usual look of observance.

"So what, you're playing Robin Hood now?" He couldn't believe Khan would help the owner of the bar out of the goodness of his heart, not unless there was something more at stake. Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I told you to report all this shit?"

Simple as the gangs were, at least to those that are from a more advanced dimension, they had quite a few things that were useful to a man of Khan's talents.

"Well, you are here, Captain." stated simply and he placed his hands in his pockets.

"One of their hideouts has become abandoned thanks to my intervention. At the present, I am using it as a stage to research our enemy. Not only did they have Dust in their possession, but technology from the satellite's crash prior to my arrival. It is how I crafted a tricorder."

He really didn't like the idea of anything more complicated than a toaster in Khan's hands that he didn't expressly control or give to him. Jim has been willing to work with the man so far, because at the end of the day the good of the many outweighed the good of the few. Jim didn't think anyone on the turtle could keep a lid on Khan the way he could, with the leverage he had.

Claims to have.

God, he hoped Khan never went to the Emperor to see his future. This whole house of cards would come down on his head and Khan'd proven in the past that he didn't have a problem hurting people (Pike) out of sheer spite.

It was a dangerous game, and he didn't have anyone to blame for it but himself.

"Yeah?" Jim asked, sharp and angry. "Why would you even bother? I'm pretty sure there are other things you could be doing with your time, Harrison."

Khan stared at Jim unblinkingly, his face as neutral as ever. Though when his alias was mentioned, there was a slight movement in around his eyes that any casual observer would easily miss. He had used it before when it served his purposes, but it had been given to him by Admiral Marcus and for that alone held a silent grudge against it.

It was enough to surface one of the provocations he held back earlier.

"Were I capable, I’m sure intoxication would make me feel that I was accomplishing something." Flat, dry, riddled with indifference, and said more casually than the time of day; Khan’s words matched his expression.

"Better to feel something than whatever the hell it is you get by on. And while you're at it, why not wish you could wash away all the horrors of being a warlord? How many people did you kill, 'Khan'? While you were playing Alexander? How many women and children did you slaughter to build up your Empire? Your pathetic, outdated, antiquated Empire that you couldn't even defend? Just like your crew." Jim punctuates that statement with a sharply jabbed finger against Khan's sternum. You think he hasn't read up on the Wars? Fuck that, he knows every goddamned recorded detail of them by now and he has no problem using them as weapons.

"Would you prefer an approximation or an exact number?" asked off-handedly, not a care that there wouldn’t be an answer to his question.

"Captain. You can’t even handle me by yourself, I don’t find you in a position to judge your betters." Admonishment, in the most patronizing, condescending manner any normal human wouldn’t even be able to muster. "Didn’t you lose one of your own weeks ago?"

It was the mention of Spock that did it. Jim'd had that on the back burner all this time, a quiet, angry simmer. Kyle and Clara both helped, and Bones in his own way and Chekov in his, but none of it changed the fact that Spock was gone.

His hands were shaking. Pure anger. Distantly, he could acknowledge that this was a bad idea. But right now, he didn't care. He swung at Khan, no telegraphing or projecting, wanting very much to just punch him in the goddamned throat.

A very solid swing filled with knuckles and pent up rage struck it's intended mark. Whether or not Khan even saw it coming wasn't apparent, though he did clear his throat after moving his head to the side to pop his neck.

He gave Jim an even look, almost as if he was studying an animal at a zoo.

"...another?" he asked dryly.

The detachment didn't help his anger at all. He knew that Khan could - and did - feel, but the fact that he was better at hiding his emotions made him feel sick and disgusted and exhausted all at once. Jim hit him again, this time in the ribs, a left hook aimed to his kidney. And if Khan doesn't stop him, he'll follow it up with a right uppercut.

What Khan found amusing about all of this was the fact that he actually did come here to fight, only it wasn’t with Jim, and he hadn’t planning on being struck this many times. The blow to the ribs allowed Khan to observe Jim’s approach; the kidney shot let him see his preferred technique, and the uppercut-

Well the uppercut did show him that the stars were out tonight.

Once said and done, Khan lowered his lofty gaze back onto Jim. This would normally be the time when Khan retaliated; but this wasn’t a normal fight. There were consequences that he actually needed his full consideration.

There was next to nothing for Khan here aside from the sole promise, and he hated relying on one, that Jim would be able to reunite him with his crew. A humored, dark look crossed his face and he flicked one of his wrists to grip the hidden knife that came out.

He pointed it at Kirk before flipping it over so he was holding the handle out to him.

"Perhaps this will help to achieve your goal." If Jim wanted to go to a dark place, Khan was ready to take him there.

Whether or not it was Khan's intention, the knife actually made Jim back away, staring at it. For all his fights, all his bare-knuckle throw-downs, for everything, he'd never used a knife in a fight. Never wanted to or needed to, he didn't even go for broken bottles during a brawl, though he'd opted for a broken pool cue or two. Knives were different, vicious and dangerous, their only purpose was to inflict injury and pain on an opponent.

Which is what he was trying to do, knife or not. The anger is replaced by a hot, sudden shame and Jim snarls at Khan, not quite ready to give up the outlet but done, at least, with physical violence for the time being.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? One more way to prove your superiority." He wipes the back of his forearm across his mouth. "No. I'm done."

He set the knife back in its place underneath his jacket’s sleeve, quickly and efficiently with his eyes never leaving Jim’s.

"In such a miniscule manner? No." There was the briefest pause as he considered Jim’s actions and words.

"Done for now." He corrected. "Your grieving need for revenge is hardly over. That much is obvious, Captain." Pike’s death wasn’t an unapproachable subject to him and it was not in their agreement. One blink brought his eyes to the ring, and another back to Jim. "All you have is that and enough of your crew to count on one hand."

"Don't even start," Jim said flatly. He wasn't going to let Khan goad him further. Hard to miss that pointed look at Pike's graduation ring, he's worn it ever since he found it in Sinbrilee. It was too big for him, in a lot more ways than literal. That, as well as the statement about his crew, thinned the line of his mouth. "You have no idea what you took from me."

Edited 2013-10-16 18:20 (UTC)

Both his eyebrows rose, almost politely. At least, it would be to those who didn’t know him. Know that underneath that inquisitive motion was derisive and humor, the kind very few found worthwhile.

There had been plans laid in motion by Khan to kill Marcus, fully aware that he had a daughter. Family.

That wasn’t going to stop his vengeance, and he was hardly concerned for the toll that would be left behind if his organized attack went through. If Jim hadn’t stopped him.

"Something so important that you can’t live without it. And yet, here you are."

"I didn't say I couldn't live without it," Jim hisses, fists clenching. He's so close to lashing out again, he has to walk that very fine line. "I said you have no idea what you took. Do you feel anything but superiority?"

Everything so far, even Jim’s hostile reaction had been for Khan’s amusement. All that he could get really given the conditions he was forced to be under. That question though catches his eye and they sharply move to home in directly on Jim’s, his pupils reflecting the outside light of the bar.

"What does that matter to you, Kirk?" Purposely dropping his title of Captain that Jim had imposed. The suddenness of the question felt like someone flicking an exposed nerve for their amusement.

Something he would have done.

"Because you know what I think? I think for all that you talk about being better, you aren't any different than the rest of us." He keeps his tone derisive. Pitying. He has a feeling it's the one thing Khan can't stand.

"And I think if I played chess against you, I'd win. Because at the end of the day, you're only human."

With each passing word, Khan’s fingers slowly folded into a fist. A small tilt upwards of his chin happens as his lips thin, though his eyes never move from Jim; as if locked in place.

"As your executive officer would tell you, were he here," Those words were said with more sting than any he’s given so far. "your theory is illogical and has already been proven invalid."

A page right out of Spock’s book, mocking Jim in the wake of his absence. "You can’t afford to play that game, Captain. There is too much at stake for you." Using his title as a reminder that he knows how much Jim values his crew.

Something he understands to well, but him it is on a different level entirely.

Edited 2013-11-01 20:31 (UTC)

"Oh? Has it? Because I don't actually remember it ever being proven. I remember you going on a psychotic bender against an entire planet because you thought you lost your crew. Good job, by the way. Very Machiavellian. Too bad a super being couldn't stop and do his homework first, right? You blew up Sector 31 on a whim? Does that sound like the action of a rational man to you? Someone smart as you, I'm sure you had a million ways to find out if your crew was unharmed, but no. You went for the throat. Like an animal. 'Savagery', right?"

Jim snorts in disgust and throws his hands in the air. "Did you seriously just say there's too much at stake for me? My people aren't popsicles, Harrison. And you can't touch them while I'm the one hope you've got."

There’s no retort. If anything, Jim’s rebuke is a bit magnanimous. His actions to him reflected the savagery that was hard wired into his DNA, a step above the rationality that Starfleet as a whole tried to keep at their core.

Alexander Marcus had made it seem like it was nothing more than timed disaster to explode over galaxies as opposed to one building.

At least, from Khan’s skewed perspective.

"No. I cannot." Says the man who is seeing less hope the more he learns of what it is they are facing and their slim odds of success.

When that didn't earn the reaction he was looking for (violence), Jim's shoulders sag like a weight's struck and settled there. It occurs to him, not for the first time, how similar he and Khan really are. Wouldn't Jim do anything for his family, after all? Wasn't it making him crazy to be apart from them?

He flexes his fingers, there's blood across the back of his knuckles - his own - but he barely feels it. Finally, "How long were you even active under Marcus?" Because if he can't goad Khan into the fight he wants so badly, he's damned well going to learn something, anything of value.

Not that Khan couldn't lie to him. But they both have such hatred of Marcus he doesn't see the point.

Crazy is one way to put it.

"2258 to 2259." His answer coincides with him clenching and unclenching his fist. "Seeking a way to militarize Starfleet, Marcus found me. That much you know. Once he corralled me into working for him, I instantly began looking for a way to turn the tide in my favor."

There was fair warning in that statement.

"I designed and built the new dreadnought class starships, and other weapons." His eyes glance at the ring on Jim’s hand. For all he knew, the information given to the admirals, captains, and commanders included the origin of the explosion.

"Whatever he wanted made, I created while having to live the lie that was John Harrison."

Jim's attention, fogged though it is by the alcohol and the haze of adrenaline, sharpens on that detail. "What other weapons?"

"Phasers focused on destruction and collateral damage than merely one target, anti-spacecraft." The humor isn’t lost on him and the corners of his mouth twitch. A weapon would have served Jim better than the rifle he used.

"Chemical explosives that could level an entire archive and are easily concealed in a Starfleet Academy graduate ring. Simply add water." He‘s listing them off unconcernedly, Marcus wanted most of them and he had every intention of taking them all back once the admiral was dead.

"There were other projects, but they were all pushed back in favor of the dreadnought starship."

Jim curls a lip, and unselfconsciously turns Pike's ring on his hand. "What made him uncork you in the first place? Why you? It's not like we have a lot of records of the wars you started. You could have pretended to be someone else. Hell, why were you guys frozen in the first place?"

He was sure that Jim knew everything about him and why it was him, why he did what he did. But this string of questions gives him pause and he takes him time in silence before answering.

Patience isn’t something he favors, but he can appreciate its usefulness. Especially when Jim, apparently, could not.

"After the Eugenics Wars began to take a turn for the worse, I rallied those who wished to escape. They became my crew. The SS Botany, our only means of escape, experienced an irreparable power failure in space during our exile. I made use of the cryostasis pods and saved us all." His tone is less mechanical.

"It wouldn’t have mattered who he chose to release, Kirk. The outcome would have been the same."

Khan's deliberation snaps him back. He's giving away information with all these questions, he realizes. And he was too damned inebriated to see it. His mouth thins.

"I don't know if I believe that. 'Khan Noonien Singh' controlled most of Asia and Europe by, what. 1997?" He didn't believe it was an accident, that Marcus chose him. In fact, given what he knew of the man, he'd bet on it. He was crazy and Jim didn't regret his death even a little, but he was driven, focused, determined, and smart. All qualities expected in 'Fleet officers.

"My guess is that if he'd picked anyone else, they wouldn't have been quite so-- efficient."

"1992." He corrected the slight passively. That reign was a little over a year ago for him even though centuries had passed.

"Perhaps. I was content to sleep." He didn’t sign up for any of this, not when he had his crew in suspended animation. An eternity of merely being in their presence is more to him than any person’s highest wants. "Starfleet’s mistake."

"And why is that, exactly?" he says, harsh. He can hear the words in Khan's voice, you should have let me sleep, and the sick sight of him crushing Marcus' head between his hands. It's a sobering thought, and this is the guy who, minutes ago, Jim had wanted to take a swing at him.

"You conquer a world, escape, and then you want to kick back on a beach somewhere? Isn't that a little against type?"

He doesn't like this conversation for a variety of reasons. It's not going where he wants it to, it's not doing what he needs it to, and the worst part of all? It's making him empathize with Khan. A warlord. Someone Jim hates.

"Human Augments were being hunted, exterminated." He knows the irony there and his words are as hateful as the sneer that mars his otherwise impassive face. "We were the last ones left and escape was our only option. There was little we could do except take advantage of being in stasis; wait until our time had become nothing more than a memory. So yes, Kirk, I was prepared to spend an eternity with my crew if need be."

He resisted the need to make the jab about letting sleeping dogs lie, besmirch Starfleet further for all that it had done to him. Dig in at Marcus supposedly being the paragon of the organization itself.

Instead he just inwardly seethed at the situation he was in. Apart from his crew, indefinitely for all he could calculate and relying on the Emperor’s word, let alone Jim’s. As if anyone from Starfleet was really worth trusting.

"You act like it's some kind of injustice. Your people subjugated an entire planet! All because you think you're better. You really don't have a leg to stand on when you're whining about extermination, jackass."

Jim sighs, steps away from Khan. Drags a hand through his hair, watches his breath in the cool night. Against his better judgement, his curiosity gets the better of him. "What was it like? Back then."

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tenses are my mortal enemy fcs.

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