cassidy moran ; the beast (miroirs) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-10-17 23:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | beast |
Who: Cass (closed, narrative)
What: Suit getting.
Where: Various.
When: Over the past week.
Warnings: None.
Even while he was doing it, Cass couldn't believe what he had agreed to. Assisting a young girl fight crime? Looking at her measurements made him want to send Wren a message back and tell her that he couldn't do her this favor, that this was a step too far. He still didn't approve of what she was doing, risking her life for some perceived altruistic cause, but she seemed to feel that she needed to do it, and he could at least understand that. But this? Providing protection for a girl he'd never met, and helping her to throw herself into the line of fire? He couldn't help but feel that if the suit made her feel invincible and she jumped into the line of fire and got herself killed, it would be on him, now. He would be responsible for that.
But he could do it, and he was going to. Because he felt he owed Wren, this and a thousand things more, and that, in the end, was why he went through with it. Because he owed her, and because if he didn't, some girl was going to be running around the streets fighting men twice her size without even a scrap of protection. Whatever the consequences of saying yes, the consequences of saying no were worse. Like it or not, he was involved - and he didn't like it, not one bit.
He went to a supplier for the army. The man usually did big jobs, large shipments, not small amounts of kevlar for suits the size of a teenage girl. But money talked, and when Cass offered twice what the material cost to offset the strangeness of such a small amount, he got what he asked for.
Then the kevlar went to four other companies, all of whom made the pieces that would be necessary for the full suit, and they sent them back to him one by one. When he had all of them he took them to their last stop, a young woman who assured him that she could get the job done of putting them together, discreetly and without fuss.
In the end he was left with a workable suit, expertly crafted and matching the measurements that Wren had given him exactly. He was also left feeling angry, conflicted, and used. The truly pathetic thing, he realized, was the fact that none of those things would prevent him from sending the suit to Wren, or from seeing her again, and it only made him hate himself the more for it.
He lifted the suit up and looked at it under the light. It was plain, but it would do whatever job it was meant to.
He tossed it back in the box and sealed it up. The sooner it was out of his hands, the happier he would be. In fact, he would be happiest if he never saw it again.