Santo and Piotr, Backdated to 1/31/15
Jan. 31st, 2015 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_rockslide posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainSanto and Piotr meet in a rather unorthodox fashion. Santo kind of gets what he deserves, but he makes a friend in the process and learns more about his powers to boot, and plans for a Mutant Wrestling Federation start to be laid...
A quiet day by the lake, that was exactly what Piotr needed. I wasn't that he was unhappy at the school, far from it! The last few months had been amazing, even discounting the revelation of his sister's whereabouts. But life in a school full of mutants moved at a different pace from the sleepy Russian backwater he'd grown up in. Sometimes Piotr just needed to catch his breath. So he'd found himself a quiet spot by the lakeshore and plonked himself down in a folding camp chair (and really, finding one of those that could hold his weight had been a godsend) and decided to break out his sketch pad.
Apparently even Russians get cold in the New York winter, given that Piotr was wrapped from head to toe in warm winter gear, which just added to the big lad's bulk. The only part of him not fully rugged up was his right hand. Wool gloves are great for keeping warm, less so for being able to sketch. Still, despite the cold weather gear he seemed perfectly happy to be sitting there sketching away.
Really, though, Santo just felt kind of embarrassed. He wasn't the most graceful of creatures on a good day, but today wasn't a good day, as evidenced by the fact that on the far side of the lake, Santo had stumbled and fallen into a deep part of the lake, hours before Piotr's arrival. The moments of panic and flailing quickly brought Santo to one of the most important revelations of his entire life thus far as both a mutant and as a human being: he didn't need to breathe anymore.
As disturbing as it was, it was actually kind of awesome, in a Pirates of the Caribbean kind of way, marching his way along the lake bed, gathering mud and underwater foliage along the way all over his body, from what he could tell in the dim shafts of light that came down through the snow and the ice over the lake. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but honestly, he didn't care. His clothes were covered in mud, his body was covered in mud, and he was draped with underwater weeds and plants. When he looked at himself as best he could, he looked like some sort of Swamp Thing. And this was way too good of an opportunity to pass up, really.
So Santo, not really keeping track of how long he'd been down here, set about walking along the edge of the lake bed, beneath the ice, keeping a lookout for anyone who he might be able to prank. And that was when he spotted a fellow sketching away like some sort of nerd, close to the edge of the lake. A big dude like that should be a football player or a wrestler or a boxer, Santo reasoned.... So why not spook him?
Approaching from the closest angle he could, Santo pressed a hand against the ice, and with a surprisingly forceful punch, burst the ice near the boy in a shower of icy chunks and cold spray and snow. Not wasting any time, Santo trudged his way up, covered from head to toe in mud and aquatic foliage. "RAAAAAAAAAAAWRRRRR" Santo bellowed, lumbering towards the kid in the folding chair, trying his best to look threatening and scary.
Piotr had JUST been thinking about how miraculous it was to get some quiet when a THING straight out of a horror movie came bursting out of the ice. "Bozhe moi!" Piotr exclaimed in shock. Not only did he drop his pad, but in his rush to get to his feet he overbalanced and fell gracelessly to the side in his chair. Which probably looked pretty funny, what with the cloud of powder snow it briefly kicked up..
For a moment at least. Until the metallic figure of Colossus came rising out of the snow and hurled the solid deck chair at the "monster". Normally Piotr was both peaceloving and not prone to hasty action. But he'd just gotten a hell of a scare and was running on adrenaline, confusion and fear. All neatly expressed through an airborne piece of garden furniture.
Well that was a heck of a surprise! Then again, two could play at the strength game. Though he didn't see it coming in time to deflect it, he at least put his hands up and protected himself, not that the furniture really hurt. In fact, with his bulk and Piotr's strength behind it, the chair was more thoroughly damaged than Santo was. Still, this was fun, now! Now it was something out of a freaking awesome super-hero film! Not to mention the kid looked tough in that metal form. Bigger, too. So Santo lumbered towards him in a half-rush, aiming to wallop him with an overhead slam of his fists, bellowing all the while.
Unlike Santo, Piotr wasn't really seeing the fun in getting attacked by some sort of algae-covered lake monster. The fact that his chair just turned into a crumpled mess without really slowing the thing didn't exactly bring the chuckles in. When the monster came running bellowing at him (exactly what you'd expect from a swamp monster), Piotr grimly raised his fists into a boxer's stance. He wasn't panicking, but this was possibly the scariest thing he'd ever faced. And this was his first serious fight (well, at least HE thought it was a serious fight).
When the creature lumbered at him, Piotr raised his arms to block the overhead smash. He wasn't going to be getting out of the way, and so far he hadn't found anything that could actually hurt his metal skin. This didn't either, but the impact drove him down into the snow and made him grunt with the effort of stopping it. He retaliated by using the fact that he was now effectively under the monster's guard by aiming a heavy punch at its torso. Piotr hadn't really punched anything as hard as he could before, but he sure wasn't holding back this time. For all he knew, this thing was going to eat him!
Holy crap, this guy was awesome! How come they hadn't met before?! Santo's head was rushing as the big Russian guy's fist impacted on his chest. Santo didn't feel it, as he didn't really feel anything, but in reality, Santo heard a lot of stone breaking from the impact. And then he was falling, which was weird, because his line-of-sight was also rolling backward. Rolling farther than it should have from just him falling down.
When he rolled over again, his eyes were covered with snow, but blinking a few times made him realize that he was now looking at the rubble of his own torso, flanked by his inert arms. "Holy shit!" Santo squeaked, in pure panic. "Holy shit dude, you totally killed me!"
Lake monster or not, shattering his opponent hadn't been what Piotr had intended or expected. Even on his metal features his shock and surprise were evident when he suddenly found himself standing over a pile of rubbley remains. Especially when those remains started talking to him in high pitched, panicked English! Piotr just gaped down at Santo, unable to phrase a response. What had he done? what shopuld he do now? "I......" Was all he managed.
After a few moments, Santo started to realize something important: he was not, in fact, dead. Rather, he was quite the opposite. Somehow.
"I... holy crap," Santo said, his jaw still moving and his eyes still roaming about as he took in the bizarre perspective. He didn't think he'd ever been this close to the ground before. "How am I not dead?" he asked, even though this stranger probably wouldn't be able to tell him. "I'm all like, in pieces."
What was going on? This whole situation had gone even more topsy-turvy than Piotr had thought it already was. First he got attacked, then he somehow SHATTERED his attacker, and now what he'd thought was a monster was speaking to him in English?! A horrible thought occured to him, sparked by a moment of recognition. "Are....you one of the students?" there was a very un-Piotr stammer to the big lad's voice.
He had to do something! Even though it didn't seem like it'd make any sense if he stopped and thought about it, Piotr stepped forwards and tried to gather up the various scattered arms and legs. Almost as if he could try and put the poor boy back together.
"Yeah, dude. What did you think I was, some kind of like, lake monster, or something?" Santo asked. "There's no such thing as lake monsters, bro. Unless that's a thing for --hey! What are you doing with those?" Santo asked, noticing him picking up his arms. Reflexively, even without much thought, the arm that he picked up pushed against his chest, bending at the elbow to try to get him to put it down.
Pushing against Piotr's still metal chest was a bit like pushing against a wall. Still, the arm got its desired effect, since Piotr dropped it like he'd suddenly been scalded. "I...." Piotr started with a definite stammer. But what had he been doing? Trying to fix his victim? Did that even make sense? The other lad seemed very calm, which sort of helped and sort of didn't. "Do....do you need a doctor?" piotr asked uncertainly. because the individual pieces were still moving, so maybe that would work?
"I... I don't know. Gimme a few? Man, this is so freaking embarrassing," Santo grumbled, his eyes darting around. "Okay, okay, I got an idea. Pick my head up so I can like, see the damage. I can't see crap from down here."
Despite the utter weirdness of the request, the metal man just nodded and went along with the idea. when he felt out of his depth Piotr always appreciated something simple and straightforward to do. And someone to tell him to do it. He stepped over and gingerly picked up Santo's head. "Can you fix this?" He asked as he lifted Santo up to see what had happened. Maybe things would be allright. Maybe?
Santo surveyed the damage. "I ... I don't know," Santo admitted, feeling a bit lost and helpless. Okay, the arms were intact. Good. He even had gotten one of them to move, without even thinking about it. That was good. His legs were still attached to his pelvis and lower abdomen area. Also good. However... He saw plenty of little stone bits dribbling out of the bottom of his flattened and wet and muddy hoodie that was laying on the ground.
"Dude, you shattered my chest," Santo said, no hint of bitterness or anger in his voice. In fact, he sounded downright impressed. "That's freaking awesome. Just how strong are you? Also please don't crush my head like a grape."
The second bit was the part that got a reaction out of the still upset Piotr. "No! I would not!" he exclaimed. until he looked down and saw that well, he'd already done the next best thing to squashing Santo's head. "I...." he started and then stopped. But with Santo being so calm about this, Piotr was better able to finally get at least a little bit of a grip. With a thought he changed back to his human form, the metal receding back under his clothes like a tide going out. "I think this is better." He finally managed.
"I was just sayin'..." Santo mumbled. "Okay... Uh... Hm." Gingerly, he closed his eyes and started to just really think of himself as whole. It sounded kind of stupid and nerdy in a New Age-y way, but he sort of had done the same thing when Conner had snapped his hand off. He tested his fingers, one by one, which moved on the corresponding hands. "See, it's like... it's all broken and stuff..." he said, referring to his chest area though Piotr probably didn't know. "I've never had to deal with that before, just..." He let out a huff. "I should be better than this, damn it!" He was starting to get kind of angry about this.
"You should be better at using your body when it is in pieces?" Though Santo was getting angrier, Piotr found that a calming thought. because it meant this wasn't necessarily a total disaster. The idea that this was fixable was a real relief to the mix of panic and guilt souring the big man's stomach. "Maybe if we put you together in one place?" It seemed like a logical suggestion, right?
"Well, like, I don't know, 'cause, y'know, this hasn't happened before. I mean, I managed to move my arm and stuff, but you crushed my freaking chest, dude," Santo said. "I've moved my hand and my arm before, but never like..." He sighed. Last time, it was just so freaking easy... Maybe he just needed to calm down.
"Okay, well, this might get a bit weird," Santo said. He closed his eyes, and just sort of willed himself to stand up, and sure enough, his legs bent at the knees and planted feet-first in the ground, standing up as much like a human body's would. Santo opened his left eye a crack. "Okay, legs are up. Jeez, this is so weird..." But how was he supposed to get the chest on top of his legs and his abdominal area, when it was crushed to rubble?
Well, that was surprising. A huge relief, but still surprising. Piotr looked at the standing legs dubiously. and then at the pile of rubble with more trepidation. "If you can move your legs, maybe you can pull your stomach together. Maybe if you try to tighten your abs?" He suggested hesitantly. He was guessing, but it couldn't do any MORE harm right?
It wasn't the dumbest thing he'd ever heard, so Santo closed his eyes, and grunted. The stones underneath of his flattened (and soaked and mud-caked) hoodie shifted abruptly, grinding about together. "So like, my pecs too, then?" Santo asked, putting his mental effort into that idea as well. The grinding sound intensified as Santo's upper chest started to piece itself back together, and in a gung-ho motion, the arms moved quickly to attach at the shoulders to the newly-created torso, though Santo's poor hoodie was shredded in the process. His torso hefted itself up off the ground, launching itself with its arms to land solidly on his own set of legs. "Alright!" Santo said, his body moving and grabbing his head from Piotr's hands. "I can take that," he said, popping his head onto his own shoulders and rolling his neck and shoulders to get a feel for it. "Man, good as new," he said, offering a mud-covered hand to Piotr. "I'm Santo," he said, as if the last ten minutes or so had never happened.
Piotr heaved a sigh of relief so pronounced it made his shoulders slump. Santo looked like he was going to be okay. The mud covered hand was gratefully taken, though Piotr made sure not to give even the firm squeeze he normally would. "Piotr." He introduced himself with a shaky smile. "This is the strangest meeting I have had in this place."
"Yeah, well," Santo grinned. "I don't do anything halfway, man. I just found out I don't drown. Maybe I can breathe water?" Santo shrugged. "Either way, it's pretty boss. And hey, I just remembered. Big, strong guy like you? You should totally be a wrestler, man. I'm trying to get a wrestling group together in the school. I don't know if it's like, allowed or not, but I've been coming up with nobody interested in it."
"When I am metal I also cannot drown." Piotr seemed pleased that someone had similar powers to him. And now that he was less shellshocked, he was curious about the other boy. "Maybe you and I are the same." Well, similar. But Piotr didn't have the English to quite make that fine a distinction. "I used to wrestle in Russia. If there is a team, I would join."
"Seriously? That's awesome, dude. Did you wrestle in your metal form, or like, did you just do it as a regular dude?" Santo asked, already noting in his head that maybe the Russians had some sort of awesome mutant wrestling league that the Americans didn't know about.
"No, no. In school. We do not have mutant schools in Russia. They do not know I am a mutant." Piotr replied with a shake of his head. He didn't know what Santo was getting at. The only thing that made sense was that there was some sort of American league of mutant wrestlers he hadn't heard about before.
"Oh. Well, dude, I'm trying to make a league for mutant wrestlers where we can use our powers and stuff like that. I mean, think about it. It's fun, it keeps us in shape, and if we put on a good show, people will love us! I bet it'd be the best thing to happen to mutant PR in... well, forever, really," Santo explained. "I'm still trying to drum up more interest, but I'll keep you informed, man. Also, that looked like some Muhammad Ali stuff earlier," Santo pointed out. "You a boxer, too?" he asked. "Cause you should totally teach me some of that."
"I have boxed." Piotr confirmed with a quick nod. "But I wrestle better." he paused an looked at Santo with a sudden flash of something like suspicion. "If you do this, you will make me pretend to be a communist, yes?" Because that's what it always boiled down to with Americans. The furry hats and yelling about capitalist pigdogs. Even with piotr's limited exposure to American culture he knew that.
"What?" Santo asked, blinking. "Dude, that's racist," he said. "That's like saying that I need to have a name like "Mario" just 'cause I'm Italian American. Nah, man, the most I'd go for is have you be called like, the "Iron Curtain," or something like that. Because seriously that's a badass title, and you should be proud of that if we call you that. But no, I'd like, totally do a Mutant Wrestling League where we like, make our own personas. At least until like, some mutant really good at marketing and stuff like that comes along and helps us make our brands and crap like that."
Well, so much for stereotyping, which suited Piotr just fine. "I AM made of metal." And it didn't sound too bad either. The idea of pro wrestling wasn't one that had ocurred to Piotr before, but after a couple months of mostly keeping to himself in the school, maybe he was ready to do something a bit out there. "And what would you be?" he asked with the same blunt directness he always showed.
"See, I was thinking about just going by my codename of Rockslide," he said, thinking about it. "But I've got so many ideas, y'know? It's kinda hard to choose one of them. Like I kinda had an idea for a luchador sort of thing, but then I was like, maybe I should just sort of do sort of an Andre the Giant sort of approach and sort of go plainer, y'know, and just kind of let my uniqueness speak for itself? Stone Fist Santo kind of has a ring to it? But it might kind of remind people of Stone Cold Steve Austin."
"Rockslide is good I think. Stone Fist does not sound good." Piotr frowned for a second. That wasn't the way he'd wanted to express that, but he couldn't think of a better way to phrase it. "I do not think you want Lucha Libre, but maybe masks are good?"
But Santo just let the comment roll off his shoulders. "See, thing is in American Wrestling, usually the Face doesn't wear a mask, only the Heel does... that or make-up, but I was never a fan of KISS," Santo said, frowning a bit. "And we'd have to work that out. That's why we need more than two guys, 'cause I don't think either of us really wants to be the Heel, especially starting out... but maybe if we start out all as Faces, we can make some character shifts later on in our careers, you know?" Santo shrugged. "I mean, we got time to think about it."
Even though Piotr had always been more into the sporting side of wrestling than the showbiz side, he had gotten some exposure to that part, so he could follow Santo's logic. "Yes, you are right." He agrees with a nod. he looked thoughtful though, like he was chewing over something big. Wrestling Piotr understood, politics less so. "Maybe a lot of mutant faces is good. People are afraid of mutants. But they love face wrestlers, no?"
"Well right, if we all start off as Faces, then people will love us, y'know?" Santo agreed. "Like, two Faces can duke it out in the ring. Especially when your brand is just getting off the ground. Sometimes a good clean fight is just what you wanna see," Santo opined. He wasn't sure about that, but he'd go with it for now.
"yes, that is good." Piotr agreed with a firm nod. "Two faces is better I think. What would a heel do? Hitting with a chair does nothing." With a twitch of his lips Piotr pointed at the battered wreckage of his poor chair lying next to them.
"Well, right, man, but it can still be part of the show," Santo pointed out. "If we make it too different from regular human wrestling, people will be like "wow they're so different" but if we make it similar, at least at first, then people will get behind it, you know?"
"So it is show business." Piotr concluded, using one of the phrases that he'd actually picked up from his infrequent forays into watching pro wrestling. "But we will not have to saw the table so it breaks." He added cheerfully. Which would have been weird in any conversation not involving two indestructible people.
"Well of course it is, bro. I mean, that's how wrestling is nowadays anyway." Santo shrugged. "And yeah," he chuckled. "Saves the stage preppers some work. We just need to find somebody who's got a nose for business. Know anybody who happens to be good at that sort of thing?"
"No." Piotr shook his head emphatically. "I do not know many people yet." Still, there had to be a solution. "Perhaps my friend Cal would know someone. He knows many people I think. And there are rich mutants at the school I think."
"Rankin?" Santo asked, not sure if there was another one. "He's okay. He might know someone, yeah." And Santo had been meaning to meet him, too. "And rich doesn't mean they know anything about business. But I'll ask around. Maybe you should do the same."
"I will." piotr promised with a firm nod. Since it seemed like everything was said for now, he stepped over and picked up the wreckage of his chair. he'd find a skip somewhere to chuck that into. "I will speak to you soon." he offered the other boy a hand to shake, a bit of an awkward gesture, but definitely a friendly one.
Santo took the hand and shook it eagerly. "Great to meet ya, bro. I'll see you around. I've been in the lake for almost half a day so I should probably go let Vic know that I'm not dead. He worries about me sometimes, I think, which is funny 'cause he's way scrawnier than I am."
A quiet day by the lake, that was exactly what Piotr needed. I wasn't that he was unhappy at the school, far from it! The last few months had been amazing, even discounting the revelation of his sister's whereabouts. But life in a school full of mutants moved at a different pace from the sleepy Russian backwater he'd grown up in. Sometimes Piotr just needed to catch his breath. So he'd found himself a quiet spot by the lakeshore and plonked himself down in a folding camp chair (and really, finding one of those that could hold his weight had been a godsend) and decided to break out his sketch pad.
Apparently even Russians get cold in the New York winter, given that Piotr was wrapped from head to toe in warm winter gear, which just added to the big lad's bulk. The only part of him not fully rugged up was his right hand. Wool gloves are great for keeping warm, less so for being able to sketch. Still, despite the cold weather gear he seemed perfectly happy to be sitting there sketching away.
Really, though, Santo just felt kind of embarrassed. He wasn't the most graceful of creatures on a good day, but today wasn't a good day, as evidenced by the fact that on the far side of the lake, Santo had stumbled and fallen into a deep part of the lake, hours before Piotr's arrival. The moments of panic and flailing quickly brought Santo to one of the most important revelations of his entire life thus far as both a mutant and as a human being: he didn't need to breathe anymore.
As disturbing as it was, it was actually kind of awesome, in a Pirates of the Caribbean kind of way, marching his way along the lake bed, gathering mud and underwater foliage along the way all over his body, from what he could tell in the dim shafts of light that came down through the snow and the ice over the lake. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but honestly, he didn't care. His clothes were covered in mud, his body was covered in mud, and he was draped with underwater weeds and plants. When he looked at himself as best he could, he looked like some sort of Swamp Thing. And this was way too good of an opportunity to pass up, really.
So Santo, not really keeping track of how long he'd been down here, set about walking along the edge of the lake bed, beneath the ice, keeping a lookout for anyone who he might be able to prank. And that was when he spotted a fellow sketching away like some sort of nerd, close to the edge of the lake. A big dude like that should be a football player or a wrestler or a boxer, Santo reasoned.... So why not spook him?
Approaching from the closest angle he could, Santo pressed a hand against the ice, and with a surprisingly forceful punch, burst the ice near the boy in a shower of icy chunks and cold spray and snow. Not wasting any time, Santo trudged his way up, covered from head to toe in mud and aquatic foliage. "RAAAAAAAAAAAWRRRRR" Santo bellowed, lumbering towards the kid in the folding chair, trying his best to look threatening and scary.
Piotr had JUST been thinking about how miraculous it was to get some quiet when a THING straight out of a horror movie came bursting out of the ice. "Bozhe moi!" Piotr exclaimed in shock. Not only did he drop his pad, but in his rush to get to his feet he overbalanced and fell gracelessly to the side in his chair. Which probably looked pretty funny, what with the cloud of powder snow it briefly kicked up..
For a moment at least. Until the metallic figure of Colossus came rising out of the snow and hurled the solid deck chair at the "monster". Normally Piotr was both peaceloving and not prone to hasty action. But he'd just gotten a hell of a scare and was running on adrenaline, confusion and fear. All neatly expressed through an airborne piece of garden furniture.
Well that was a heck of a surprise! Then again, two could play at the strength game. Though he didn't see it coming in time to deflect it, he at least put his hands up and protected himself, not that the furniture really hurt. In fact, with his bulk and Piotr's strength behind it, the chair was more thoroughly damaged than Santo was. Still, this was fun, now! Now it was something out of a freaking awesome super-hero film! Not to mention the kid looked tough in that metal form. Bigger, too. So Santo lumbered towards him in a half-rush, aiming to wallop him with an overhead slam of his fists, bellowing all the while.
Unlike Santo, Piotr wasn't really seeing the fun in getting attacked by some sort of algae-covered lake monster. The fact that his chair just turned into a crumpled mess without really slowing the thing didn't exactly bring the chuckles in. When the monster came running bellowing at him (exactly what you'd expect from a swamp monster), Piotr grimly raised his fists into a boxer's stance. He wasn't panicking, but this was possibly the scariest thing he'd ever faced. And this was his first serious fight (well, at least HE thought it was a serious fight).
When the creature lumbered at him, Piotr raised his arms to block the overhead smash. He wasn't going to be getting out of the way, and so far he hadn't found anything that could actually hurt his metal skin. This didn't either, but the impact drove him down into the snow and made him grunt with the effort of stopping it. He retaliated by using the fact that he was now effectively under the monster's guard by aiming a heavy punch at its torso. Piotr hadn't really punched anything as hard as he could before, but he sure wasn't holding back this time. For all he knew, this thing was going to eat him!
Holy crap, this guy was awesome! How come they hadn't met before?! Santo's head was rushing as the big Russian guy's fist impacted on his chest. Santo didn't feel it, as he didn't really feel anything, but in reality, Santo heard a lot of stone breaking from the impact. And then he was falling, which was weird, because his line-of-sight was also rolling backward. Rolling farther than it should have from just him falling down.
When he rolled over again, his eyes were covered with snow, but blinking a few times made him realize that he was now looking at the rubble of his own torso, flanked by his inert arms. "Holy shit!" Santo squeaked, in pure panic. "Holy shit dude, you totally killed me!"
Lake monster or not, shattering his opponent hadn't been what Piotr had intended or expected. Even on his metal features his shock and surprise were evident when he suddenly found himself standing over a pile of rubbley remains. Especially when those remains started talking to him in high pitched, panicked English! Piotr just gaped down at Santo, unable to phrase a response. What had he done? what shopuld he do now? "I......" Was all he managed.
After a few moments, Santo started to realize something important: he was not, in fact, dead. Rather, he was quite the opposite. Somehow.
"I... holy crap," Santo said, his jaw still moving and his eyes still roaming about as he took in the bizarre perspective. He didn't think he'd ever been this close to the ground before. "How am I not dead?" he asked, even though this stranger probably wouldn't be able to tell him. "I'm all like, in pieces."
What was going on? This whole situation had gone even more topsy-turvy than Piotr had thought it already was. First he got attacked, then he somehow SHATTERED his attacker, and now what he'd thought was a monster was speaking to him in English?! A horrible thought occured to him, sparked by a moment of recognition. "Are....you one of the students?" there was a very un-Piotr stammer to the big lad's voice.
He had to do something! Even though it didn't seem like it'd make any sense if he stopped and thought about it, Piotr stepped forwards and tried to gather up the various scattered arms and legs. Almost as if he could try and put the poor boy back together.
"Yeah, dude. What did you think I was, some kind of like, lake monster, or something?" Santo asked. "There's no such thing as lake monsters, bro. Unless that's a thing for --hey! What are you doing with those?" Santo asked, noticing him picking up his arms. Reflexively, even without much thought, the arm that he picked up pushed against his chest, bending at the elbow to try to get him to put it down.
Pushing against Piotr's still metal chest was a bit like pushing against a wall. Still, the arm got its desired effect, since Piotr dropped it like he'd suddenly been scalded. "I...." Piotr started with a definite stammer. But what had he been doing? Trying to fix his victim? Did that even make sense? The other lad seemed very calm, which sort of helped and sort of didn't. "Do....do you need a doctor?" piotr asked uncertainly. because the individual pieces were still moving, so maybe that would work?
"I... I don't know. Gimme a few? Man, this is so freaking embarrassing," Santo grumbled, his eyes darting around. "Okay, okay, I got an idea. Pick my head up so I can like, see the damage. I can't see crap from down here."
Despite the utter weirdness of the request, the metal man just nodded and went along with the idea. when he felt out of his depth Piotr always appreciated something simple and straightforward to do. And someone to tell him to do it. He stepped over and gingerly picked up Santo's head. "Can you fix this?" He asked as he lifted Santo up to see what had happened. Maybe things would be allright. Maybe?
Santo surveyed the damage. "I ... I don't know," Santo admitted, feeling a bit lost and helpless. Okay, the arms were intact. Good. He even had gotten one of them to move, without even thinking about it. That was good. His legs were still attached to his pelvis and lower abdomen area. Also good. However... He saw plenty of little stone bits dribbling out of the bottom of his flattened and wet and muddy hoodie that was laying on the ground.
"Dude, you shattered my chest," Santo said, no hint of bitterness or anger in his voice. In fact, he sounded downright impressed. "That's freaking awesome. Just how strong are you? Also please don't crush my head like a grape."
The second bit was the part that got a reaction out of the still upset Piotr. "No! I would not!" he exclaimed. until he looked down and saw that well, he'd already done the next best thing to squashing Santo's head. "I...." he started and then stopped. But with Santo being so calm about this, Piotr was better able to finally get at least a little bit of a grip. With a thought he changed back to his human form, the metal receding back under his clothes like a tide going out. "I think this is better." He finally managed.
"I was just sayin'..." Santo mumbled. "Okay... Uh... Hm." Gingerly, he closed his eyes and started to just really think of himself as whole. It sounded kind of stupid and nerdy in a New Age-y way, but he sort of had done the same thing when Conner had snapped his hand off. He tested his fingers, one by one, which moved on the corresponding hands. "See, it's like... it's all broken and stuff..." he said, referring to his chest area though Piotr probably didn't know. "I've never had to deal with that before, just..." He let out a huff. "I should be better than this, damn it!" He was starting to get kind of angry about this.
"You should be better at using your body when it is in pieces?" Though Santo was getting angrier, Piotr found that a calming thought. because it meant this wasn't necessarily a total disaster. The idea that this was fixable was a real relief to the mix of panic and guilt souring the big man's stomach. "Maybe if we put you together in one place?" It seemed like a logical suggestion, right?
"Well, like, I don't know, 'cause, y'know, this hasn't happened before. I mean, I managed to move my arm and stuff, but you crushed my freaking chest, dude," Santo said. "I've moved my hand and my arm before, but never like..." He sighed. Last time, it was just so freaking easy... Maybe he just needed to calm down.
"Okay, well, this might get a bit weird," Santo said. He closed his eyes, and just sort of willed himself to stand up, and sure enough, his legs bent at the knees and planted feet-first in the ground, standing up as much like a human body's would. Santo opened his left eye a crack. "Okay, legs are up. Jeez, this is so weird..." But how was he supposed to get the chest on top of his legs and his abdominal area, when it was crushed to rubble?
Well, that was surprising. A huge relief, but still surprising. Piotr looked at the standing legs dubiously. and then at the pile of rubble with more trepidation. "If you can move your legs, maybe you can pull your stomach together. Maybe if you try to tighten your abs?" He suggested hesitantly. He was guessing, but it couldn't do any MORE harm right?
It wasn't the dumbest thing he'd ever heard, so Santo closed his eyes, and grunted. The stones underneath of his flattened (and soaked and mud-caked) hoodie shifted abruptly, grinding about together. "So like, my pecs too, then?" Santo asked, putting his mental effort into that idea as well. The grinding sound intensified as Santo's upper chest started to piece itself back together, and in a gung-ho motion, the arms moved quickly to attach at the shoulders to the newly-created torso, though Santo's poor hoodie was shredded in the process. His torso hefted itself up off the ground, launching itself with its arms to land solidly on his own set of legs. "Alright!" Santo said, his body moving and grabbing his head from Piotr's hands. "I can take that," he said, popping his head onto his own shoulders and rolling his neck and shoulders to get a feel for it. "Man, good as new," he said, offering a mud-covered hand to Piotr. "I'm Santo," he said, as if the last ten minutes or so had never happened.
Piotr heaved a sigh of relief so pronounced it made his shoulders slump. Santo looked like he was going to be okay. The mud covered hand was gratefully taken, though Piotr made sure not to give even the firm squeeze he normally would. "Piotr." He introduced himself with a shaky smile. "This is the strangest meeting I have had in this place."
"Yeah, well," Santo grinned. "I don't do anything halfway, man. I just found out I don't drown. Maybe I can breathe water?" Santo shrugged. "Either way, it's pretty boss. And hey, I just remembered. Big, strong guy like you? You should totally be a wrestler, man. I'm trying to get a wrestling group together in the school. I don't know if it's like, allowed or not, but I've been coming up with nobody interested in it."
"When I am metal I also cannot drown." Piotr seemed pleased that someone had similar powers to him. And now that he was less shellshocked, he was curious about the other boy. "Maybe you and I are the same." Well, similar. But Piotr didn't have the English to quite make that fine a distinction. "I used to wrestle in Russia. If there is a team, I would join."
"Seriously? That's awesome, dude. Did you wrestle in your metal form, or like, did you just do it as a regular dude?" Santo asked, already noting in his head that maybe the Russians had some sort of awesome mutant wrestling league that the Americans didn't know about.
"No, no. In school. We do not have mutant schools in Russia. They do not know I am a mutant." Piotr replied with a shake of his head. He didn't know what Santo was getting at. The only thing that made sense was that there was some sort of American league of mutant wrestlers he hadn't heard about before.
"Oh. Well, dude, I'm trying to make a league for mutant wrestlers where we can use our powers and stuff like that. I mean, think about it. It's fun, it keeps us in shape, and if we put on a good show, people will love us! I bet it'd be the best thing to happen to mutant PR in... well, forever, really," Santo explained. "I'm still trying to drum up more interest, but I'll keep you informed, man. Also, that looked like some Muhammad Ali stuff earlier," Santo pointed out. "You a boxer, too?" he asked. "Cause you should totally teach me some of that."
"I have boxed." Piotr confirmed with a quick nod. "But I wrestle better." he paused an looked at Santo with a sudden flash of something like suspicion. "If you do this, you will make me pretend to be a communist, yes?" Because that's what it always boiled down to with Americans. The furry hats and yelling about capitalist pigdogs. Even with piotr's limited exposure to American culture he knew that.
"What?" Santo asked, blinking. "Dude, that's racist," he said. "That's like saying that I need to have a name like "Mario" just 'cause I'm Italian American. Nah, man, the most I'd go for is have you be called like, the "Iron Curtain," or something like that. Because seriously that's a badass title, and you should be proud of that if we call you that. But no, I'd like, totally do a Mutant Wrestling League where we like, make our own personas. At least until like, some mutant really good at marketing and stuff like that comes along and helps us make our brands and crap like that."
Well, so much for stereotyping, which suited Piotr just fine. "I AM made of metal." And it didn't sound too bad either. The idea of pro wrestling wasn't one that had ocurred to Piotr before, but after a couple months of mostly keeping to himself in the school, maybe he was ready to do something a bit out there. "And what would you be?" he asked with the same blunt directness he always showed.
"See, I was thinking about just going by my codename of Rockslide," he said, thinking about it. "But I've got so many ideas, y'know? It's kinda hard to choose one of them. Like I kinda had an idea for a luchador sort of thing, but then I was like, maybe I should just sort of do sort of an Andre the Giant sort of approach and sort of go plainer, y'know, and just kind of let my uniqueness speak for itself? Stone Fist Santo kind of has a ring to it? But it might kind of remind people of Stone Cold Steve Austin."
"Rockslide is good I think. Stone Fist does not sound good." Piotr frowned for a second. That wasn't the way he'd wanted to express that, but he couldn't think of a better way to phrase it. "I do not think you want Lucha Libre, but maybe masks are good?"
But Santo just let the comment roll off his shoulders. "See, thing is in American Wrestling, usually the Face doesn't wear a mask, only the Heel does... that or make-up, but I was never a fan of KISS," Santo said, frowning a bit. "And we'd have to work that out. That's why we need more than two guys, 'cause I don't think either of us really wants to be the Heel, especially starting out... but maybe if we start out all as Faces, we can make some character shifts later on in our careers, you know?" Santo shrugged. "I mean, we got time to think about it."
Even though Piotr had always been more into the sporting side of wrestling than the showbiz side, he had gotten some exposure to that part, so he could follow Santo's logic. "Yes, you are right." He agrees with a nod. he looked thoughtful though, like he was chewing over something big. Wrestling Piotr understood, politics less so. "Maybe a lot of mutant faces is good. People are afraid of mutants. But they love face wrestlers, no?"
"Well right, if we all start off as Faces, then people will love us, y'know?" Santo agreed. "Like, two Faces can duke it out in the ring. Especially when your brand is just getting off the ground. Sometimes a good clean fight is just what you wanna see," Santo opined. He wasn't sure about that, but he'd go with it for now.
"yes, that is good." Piotr agreed with a firm nod. "Two faces is better I think. What would a heel do? Hitting with a chair does nothing." With a twitch of his lips Piotr pointed at the battered wreckage of his poor chair lying next to them.
"Well, right, man, but it can still be part of the show," Santo pointed out. "If we make it too different from regular human wrestling, people will be like "wow they're so different" but if we make it similar, at least at first, then people will get behind it, you know?"
"So it is show business." Piotr concluded, using one of the phrases that he'd actually picked up from his infrequent forays into watching pro wrestling. "But we will not have to saw the table so it breaks." He added cheerfully. Which would have been weird in any conversation not involving two indestructible people.
"Well of course it is, bro. I mean, that's how wrestling is nowadays anyway." Santo shrugged. "And yeah," he chuckled. "Saves the stage preppers some work. We just need to find somebody who's got a nose for business. Know anybody who happens to be good at that sort of thing?"
"No." Piotr shook his head emphatically. "I do not know many people yet." Still, there had to be a solution. "Perhaps my friend Cal would know someone. He knows many people I think. And there are rich mutants at the school I think."
"Rankin?" Santo asked, not sure if there was another one. "He's okay. He might know someone, yeah." And Santo had been meaning to meet him, too. "And rich doesn't mean they know anything about business. But I'll ask around. Maybe you should do the same."
"I will." piotr promised with a firm nod. Since it seemed like everything was said for now, he stepped over and picked up the wreckage of his chair. he'd find a skip somewhere to chuck that into. "I will speak to you soon." he offered the other boy a hand to shake, a bit of an awkward gesture, but definitely a friendly one.
Santo took the hand and shook it eagerly. "Great to meet ya, bro. I'll see you around. I've been in the lake for almost half a day so I should probably go let Vic know that I'm not dead. He worries about me sometimes, I think, which is funny 'cause he's way scrawnier than I am."
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Date: 2015-02-16 04:20 pm (UTC)Seriously, though - if anyone's interested in talking to Lu, she might have some ideas. Purple would be All Over It.