Entry tags:

for i am born to be what i must be and i must be.

WHO: Luther Hargreeves & you!
WHAT: A government enforcer, obedient to the wrong people because at least they weren’t as bad as his last authority figure.
WHEN: Catch-all for throughout the plot, will add prompts as needed
WHERE: In the streets, at government facilities, with his team of fellow enforcers, at home, wherever.

[ RATIFICATION CELEBRATION | OTA ]

After a decade in the City, Luther Hargreeves knows how this dog-and-pony show goes.

The meta known as Space is a steady and reliable appearance at public events throughout the month: he smiles politely for photos, he haunts the Archangel Gabriel’s side as a bodyguard, and he parrots the right words, the PR lines he’s been drilled into saying, the party line. Order and stability is more important than ever these days, now that the Porter’s spewing chaos back into their well-ordered life.

Or so they say. Or so they tell him.

You can find him working security, most likely, or watching the celebrations with more hawk-like attention than cheer (probably keeping an eye open for trouble). Parades, parties both public and private, his schedule’s packed with them all.

[ GOVERNMENT TEAMBUILDING | OPEN TO OTHER ENFORCER PALS ]

The truth is, though, that they’re stretched thin. Pulling long hours, doing the usual work of hunting the resistance, but also trying to track down new metas now, all the ones who slipped through their net when the Porter started working in overdrive.

His teammates can start to sense the change in the air when Luther’s stomping around the government complex, glowering at their map on the wall with pins of known resistance activity, or throwing himself into obsessive training and punching the punching bags a bit too hard until they spill stuffing all over the floor. Even the Ratification streamers hung (in an obligatory sort of fashion) around the office don’t improve his mood much.

[ WILDCARD ]

get @ me! i'm on plurk at

quadrille if u wanna plot or if you want me to add a personalised starter for you :> will match prose or brackets, too.
also of note: he’s still 6’5”, but looks human in this AU and doesn’t have his half-ape physiology!

Threaded | Flat

And then, sometimes, Luther does manage to let his metaphorical hair down. Loosens his tie, and the skin of the strict, rigid government enforcer melts away when he’s not on the clock. It’s like he’s shedding a weight off his shoulders and he tries to let himself honestly enjoy some of the holiday, although part of him still has his attention half-craned listening for trouble.

It’s a barbeque in a public park, people milling over the grass, dull bass of music thrumming in the distance. For a moment, you can forget that the Porter’s acting up for the first time in years and the authorities are stretched thin. (And that the government has its boot on the neck of the people.)

Instead, Luther just glances over at his friend, an entirely different kind of Porter, and bites back a laugh.

“You have some ketchup on your chin,” he points out, pausing before taking another bite of his hot dog.

Luther receives a comm ping directing him to the large engineering bay at his earliest convenience. Knock Out has been a regular fixture in that space for the last six years (except for seven months in 2015 where he was conspicuously absent), churning out anti-resistance tech for the government such as pulse blasters (inducing weaponized, crippling vertigo that had become a favourite of enforcers), electrified capture nets, power nullifiers and inhibitor cuffs.

But their government overlords are always demanding something new, something better, something more effective. Especially with the Porter dumping a new load of Metas into the City without warning.

As one of the government's foremost enforcers and with such prominent placement at Gabriel's side, Knock Out's handler had decided that Luther was to receive the first working unit of the mech's newest invention, and now it was ready for him.

Askeladd tends not to do any of his own training when others are around. But he stops by the room to see how others are doing, finding, as now, a spot near the door where he can lean against the wall and watch. It's a good way to get an idea of who's slacking off, or of how morale is.

From the way Luther's attacking that punching bag, his morale isn't the best.

When the bag splits open, Askeladd waits a few moments before stepping forward with a theatrical sigh. "Now, how am I going to explain that expense?"

God help him, he’d started to get comfortable. He had a job he liked, a well-honed team that gave him purpose (and that, after all these years, echoed what he remembered as the best days of the academy), and a government-funded house with Allison, and things were stable.

Of course, then came January 14th. More out-of-control powers exploding all over the city, the team mustering more often, more rebel activity than there had been in ages, more risky missions than they’ve tackled in a while. Tonight, there’s a flaming wreckage of a crash on the highway, a transport gone wrong, a battle breaking out on the street between enforcers and resistance metas.

The battle feels like home.

There’s a smooth grace to the way Allison fights, and even after so many years, Luther finds himself pausing to admire it; his attention slipping for a second, his head turning to watch her whirl and kick and a ferocious smirk spread across her face.

Then one of the fighters comes for him, but even as they start lunging for him, the tall blond man is simply… not there anymore.

Blink. And Luther’s gone, reappearing several feet behind the attacker, and there’s the easy pull of a trigger and another body hitting the ground.

Blink.

Number Five had been terrifying with this power, a tiny nimble whirling dervish of lethal energy — and his twin brother, handed the same ability, is no less. Luther’s a massive shadow falling across them, a pair of hands twisting and snapping bone, flinging bodies left and right. He doesn’t mouth off like Five once did in their missions; just sets himself silently, methodically, to ruthless work.

[ more often than not, luther is gabriel's shadow rather than his wife's. the man is more at ease around the archangel, more accustomed to his whims and tics — luther has trouble reading the inscrutable demoness, unsurprisingly — but his duties still sprawl and overlap with protecting both halves of the married couple.

so on this night, at this party, luther's watching over her late arrival (gabriel's already here, somewhere indoors, greasing palms and cutting a deal for another public appearance). standing outside the bulletproof car, holding the door for her as she climbs out, all well-turned elegance.

and there have been anti-government protestors pushing up against the barriers, which is nothing new, but suddenly one of them is swarming right past them and lunging for lilith—

and before he's even consciously thought about it, the bodyguard's already installed himself between them, one broad arm slamming the protestor back. ]

Even in a world of metahumans, six-foot-five is still tall. This might be one of the reasons Space always stuck in Matthew's mind - finally, somebody was the same height as himself. It helped, too, that the other had a reputation for the same near-mindless loyalty that Matthew had. They'd never been friends, but he knew of Space. Oh yes.

Not that he's seen him in quite some time. Luther, after all, is still with the enforcers whereas Matthew had gone off the grid after an extremely violent revolt. Still, when Matthew spots the other man at one of the (stupid, in his opinion) parade after-parties, he smiles.

Not pleasantly, but that's just because nothing about Matthew is pleasant.

He stays where he is, drink in hand, curious if he will be spotted. And if he is, what one of the best enforcers in the City will do when confronted with a traitor.

Georgia doesn't enjoy the celebration. Too many people. Too loud. Too government sponsored. There are all sorts of reasons for her to avoid the area, and for the most part, she does.

But she's a reporter, and she has to go where the news is. The right story is worth the headache, especially if Anathema can come through with the magic migraine teas.

There is the problem that she's a known member of the resistance, but without her iconic black and white blazer, she's not quite as recognizable. A dark blue hoodie, nondescript jeans, and a hat keep her looking like just another member of the crowd. She's still wearing sunglasses of course, but so are lots of people. It's bright out. She's also wearing a lot of cameras, but most are too small to notice unless you know they're there.

She's being careful, keeping an eye out for enforcers and avoiding them. But even she can't think of everything. She only notices last moment when someone's hand darts into her bag and snags her wallet.

"Hey!" She turns, but there's too much crowd, and she's touch-averse enough that she doesn't want to shove her way through. "That's mine!"

[Over the years Judd has become a familiar fixture in the main government complex, ostensibly as a trainer for various fields. Only a select few know his true purpose, and even fewer see it in action. Luckily for everyone, he's not on one of those missions right now as he seemingly glides through the halls--moving quicker than a normal person despite clearly not being in a hurry--dressed in his usual all-black uniform.

Finally finding the door he's looking for, he doesn't bother to knock as he instead barges right in.]

Luther. Are you quite done with your temper tantrum?

[As usual, his voice is cold as ice and his face icily emotionless to match.]

Haru was technically on break. Unlike some of the others she wasn't training harder than usual, but then again she always trained as hard as she could - she wasn't good at moderation, always throwing herself full force into whatever she did be it work or pleasure. She wasn't blind, however, and noticed those she spent time with getting more and more frayed and more and more frustrated. That's why seeing Luther literally beat the stuffing out of the second punching bag that day didn't come as a shock.

She got up from her place seated along the side of the training room, bringing her lunch and water bottle with her, and made her way over to Luther. Once she'd come to his side she looked up at him and shook her head. "They still haven't managed to make a punching bag you can't destroy, huh? What are the people in charge of our training equipment even doing?"

In her experience, it had always been easier to get someone to relax a little when you made a comment about someone else's failings. It just put people at ease after making a mistake because you clearly don't blame them for whatever happened.

[ As one of Gabriel's bodyguards, Luther has surely heard about Adam. More than once, probably.

You'd think the smart ones would stay out of trouble, but they rarely do. No, the smart ones tend to get closed, a bit blind on their own hubris. But it's not like Adam's the only metahuman around. He, especially, has a knack for walking right in to trouble, though he usually slips out before he's ever caught. Granted he has his own personal advantages.

But, that day, there he is. Far too young to be any sort of donor. Not dressed anywhere as sharp as someone of relative importance. In fact, he's mostly watching the celebration, wild blonde curls almost covering his eyes. Dog sits by his feet, occasionally being tossed bits of whatever Adam's either.

He sees you, Luther. ]

Over the years, they've compiled more and more sightings and records on the suit known as Aegis. It's been a persistent thorn in their side, constantly showing up to wreak havoc and muck with the enforcers' plans, throwing a spanner in the works. And it's a piece of irony, considering the name of the government team, Aegis Force, but Luther swallows that irony just like he swallows his orders.

The mech has a familiar silhouette that's been slowly altered over time: becoming larger, more fearsome, donning more gadgets and attachments. The government technicians and engineers have been hard-pressed to keep up with it.

And tonight, it's apparently hitting their research facilities again. Klaxons are lighting up the board, the enforcers are scrambling a team, deploying them into the field to defend the building.

But it'll take them some time to get there. And in the meantime, Space can teleport.

As a result, he's the first one on the scene, unwisely alone — he never mastered the skill of taking someone with him on a jump — when he hears the sound of humming servos, grinding metal, sees the sleek lines of Aegis simply ripping through one of the inner doors. There's the crack of displaced air when Luther teleports in; not all that noticeable to human ears, but then again, whoever's piloting the mech has the benefit of all those augmented systems.

Threaded | Flat

[ RATIFICATION CELEBRATION | OTA ]

[ GOVERNMENT TEAMBUILDING | OPEN TO OTHER ENFORCER PALS ]

[ WILDCARD ]

got to get a bigger picture / closed to jane porter

Tech Upgrade;

no subject

and the ending’s not the same, they changed it from the book / closed to allison hargreeves

i've come to wish aloud among the overdressed crowd / closed to lilith

Ratification

ratification

government

Training

Ratification

a cumbersome and heavy body / closed to barbara gordon