gardens, poison Ivy, and spies! Oh my!

The cloth of his clothes was rough. Held, as most of the time, in a dizzying array of browns, greens, and grays that made him almost invisible when he stood in a natural surrounding. Blending in was his specialty it seemed. Blending out were only his steel colored eyes that watched the surroundings with a lazy carelessness that betrayed their experienced attention. It was the gaze people saw before they died sometimes. Gaze of killers? Well greenkillers of course.

He hunted for some growing things again today. Or at least that was his pretense. He had planned on doing some recon on the more dangerous inhabitants of the mansion for a while now. The lump on his head had even given him a prime example of one to test. Search his room really. But for that he needed to get into it. Preferably while the tenant was away (which was easy to confirm) and not coming back for a while (which was less easy). And to that end he was out hunting weeds in the garden again. Hunting under the windows of the mansions dormitories, where his eyes, from time to time only, flickered up to the second floor, where he assumed, after some innocent questions to students, Saphirus was having his quarters.

He was so focused, that the multicolored student residing near him almost escaped his notice. But when she finally was noted, he cursed under his breath. And started pulling weeds again. Hopefully she had not noticed anything.

And whatever it was, it seemed his hopes were to be disappointed again. Small hopes they were, the only permitted thing, seeing that it had been his mistakes back in the fight with Saphirus. He could have just let him hit and be done with the whole matter. To accept the thick lump which had continued to adore his cheek for a few days. Instead he had opted for doing a lot of dancing (and ruining a bed of perfect roses he had had quite a hard time growing) in front of the girls eyes. And now had two witnesses to deal with.

One of whom now apparently resented coming out... of the bushes for him. And he had to deal with the ruined roses of course - a fact he resented much more then dealing with the ruined Saphirus, who, for some reason, had proceeded to occupy some of his rather unpleasantly titled mental categories. Would-be vigilante and Too-brawny-to-think were among them. The words that appeared in his book, too, actually. He had scribbled them down, just in case. But as long as the pain had lasted remembering that name had been an easy task.

But now to another name that needed his attention. One that had not yet manage to attract as much attention. Yes she undeniably deserved some more of his. Seeing that she was ineptly trying to avoid it. But how far would she go down that lane? How far was she convinced that Martin was necessary to be spied upon or just an unpleasant fellow whom her defender had tried to decapitate with a spade. So the logical consequence was testing her resilience with a little piece of one of his other sides, the other masks. This one liked smiling. In a very cheerful way. One screaming 'Schadenfreude'... but since he was bowing deeply in the greens she would not be able to see that.

So he made his was through the bed, thinking about what to do with the brightly colored girl in the bush behind him. And then moving on... down the grounds. He had had an idea the mask liked.

Dancing in a million pieces / I find myself wondering / truth in lies / lies deeply hidden / Walking the narrow path / Dancing

The infantile leaf-colored lady had decided on following him it seemed, despite all the lack of shrubbery to hide behind. That was if his instincts could be trusted. And his ears maybe. Ears were good. Instinct was better. Always better to know when someone is following you. The tingling in your back. Unpleasant sensation that was. But Martin refused the urge to turn around. Refrained from doing so despite a part of him, strangely the part that had experienced war, wanted to turn around to her, if she was still there, turn around and make her regret following him maybe, or just walk along, away from here, as if nothing, just nothing, had ever happened.

But something had happened. And unruly children needed their discipline to learn that faulty actions, inept actions, indecisive actions, impertinent actions, were punished by society, by this society. How will that be in a hundred years? Just a thought that crossed his mind. A thought that he toyed around with just a little bit. Fun to imagine the future it was for those that were sure not to reach it. But for him the future carried more certainty. The chance of looking at pictures of something you heard of as a child as an adult. And a child. Both at the same time. He was all of it. And more.

So wonderfully thinking, walking he was, down the lawn, into a densely grown area, full grown trees, high grass, it looked wild, bewildering in its natural beauty. He had not laid hand here, just looked and pronounced it satisfactory to be left along for the time being. One needed rough patches in a garden for people to appreciate the smooth ones. This one was a very rough patch indeed a few steps into the shadows of the trees. There lay, almost hidden in the right light of day, a multitude of low bushes, extending their leaves upward in a greeting of the sunlight, greeting their life-giver with thin fingers of malleable wood, extending the digits, hugging the stems of the trees, growing upward, calling for heaven. Hear heaven calling yet, young child? You will.

Poison Ivy.

A Nasty surprise awaited the unsuspecting follower, the uneasy walker, under those trees. And Martin was content to go even farther into the mere of green. He had long clothes of after all. And gloves. And the trees shade was relaxing in the springs first heat. The light of day was just a little much to bear sometimes....

A loud noise, swinging vocal chords was his reward for patience and some quick planning. His problem now being: He could not, of course, ignore the scream, for it was quite obvious from its amplitude that he must have heard it. So, quite reluctantly, his steps were retraced, retraced in a hurry among the trees, until he found a green figure lying amongst the shrubs. The poison shrubs. And she very much looked like she had been drowsed in Urushilol , red spots appearing all over her body where she had touched the rather uncomfortable plant, while she slowly pushed herself back to her feet.

The face of the gardener changed into a mask of concern as his hands slowly, reluctantly almost, touched the nimble figure standing there in the midst of a green hell, or maybe as close as once came to that in these rather frosty climates. “You need to get up Andrea.” He spoke with a strangely emotionless voice. “We need to get you to a water tap as quickly as possible. You need that cooled immediately.” He was of course referring to the angry red rash that was spreading across her green skin like an unknown fruit being born there from a flower one could not perceive. His hands were offered as support. And just maybe she would fall once or twice on the way. On the other hand: Her rash was bad enough already. He did not want to mar the young girl forever. Just teach her a rather painful lesson.

Need. Need drove him down that road. The one and only road. The need to be so many things at once. Father, Son, Child, grown up. He was all at once. And so much more. A touch could startle him. Did startle him. Her touch as she accepted his hand and he slightly shuddered. Yet he could stare down a mountain and probably would if he thought it necessary.

There was need in him. The need to teach, but she looked at him with her swollen, ruined face and he decided that he had done enough to teach her. That she broke into sobs affected him, like the touch, in a strange way, unpredictable as they were, he felt himself overcome with a very curious emotion. Even though he had lead her here, and deservedly did so, she still looked pitiful in her ruined self and pits, like the shudder fleeting, crossed his face for a while, while his relentless eyes remained a merciless reminder of her guilt. Except that she did not have to know so many things.

His hands had done. The hands she touched.

And so he said the one thing that a parent could tell his child in situations like these. “Its OK Andrea. It will all be OK.”

His motions were light, steps falling with incredible precision among the bladed greens, seeking out the fastest path to the next water outlet on the outside of the mansion, heading her to leave behind the itching substance under the shadow of the trees. The thing that grew in the dark deservedly. A little drowsing there might help her ease the pain until she could get inside to ease it more. To ease what he had made her do to herself. She had taken the final step down the road he had put her on, which made him feel quite good about this. But somehow not smug. No. No reason for smugness at all. If you step into the shadows... you might find unpleasant things there. Me for example. Just a thought. Luckily.

Ah. Her sniveling (and it was sniveling, there was no other word for it) did not help the feeling o pity towards Andrea to decrease. Rather it made for a slight increase. Maybe the fact, that blisters were popping up on her legs now also had something to do with that. Or just the fact that she was still sobbing. Sniveling. Groveling. But then she spoke up. And something changed.
Yes, there was pity. A little bit in his voice when he spoke. But also... amusement? “Oh Andrea, you are – by far – one of my smallest troubles.” He was a hired eye and ear after all. A professional listener, a digger in the information business, planing not only roses, but also observations in his gardens, growing not only herbs but also deceit. It was a way of life that held far more troubles then a simple, single, girl could provide. Or rather: Then he would a single simple girl, mutant or no mutant, allow to ever be for him.

He set his steely eyes upon her and gazed into the blackness of the sunglasses for a short while and left her other weak outbreak uncommented. Instead he began to quicken his steps to where he had plugged his garden hose into an outlets on the Mansion wall, pulling at her hand, though never with much force. He was unaccustomed to such gestures and maybe it showed just a little.

The yellow hose was used mostly for drenching the flowerbeds when the hottest days of summer came around to prevent them from falling into the slumber of the slowly dying plants. During this season it served another purpose. Newly planted greens needed a healthy sprinkling to aid in their growing into the soil. So the hose was out already. And so he let go of Andrea and proceeded to grab its end. After a short twist, a steady jet of water sprouted from the hole and began thoroughly drowsing the (luckily) still clothed youth. It was very cold water. But it should help with the burns. At least somewhat.

Ah, pity. As if it had not been enough, Andrea proceeded to create the image of a highly lost puppy in his mind. Complete with sniveling and shivering, even whimpering, it seemed. All these awesome additional functions, that were usually omitted in the creation of electronic playing equipment, but would make it the best selling piece ever if they were to be included one day. Wonderful new thoughts for business ventures were one thing that came to mind sometimes, if you let it wander astray during the endless times of watching. He concentrated back to the matter at hand. The girl that was being hosed down by him in all her squeamish glory.

A rather green puppy. Puppies in green tended to look rather ridiculous as natures logic went. Another bonus for his non-pity side. A rather snoutless one, too. (A general bonus, that one. He did not like to imagine the concept of a snout in the viridian ladies face) The latter fact being, of course, much more becoming to her than a dogs organ, but with mutants you might never be able to tell. But some kind of sixth sense she seemed to possess as she, with utter aclarity, pinpointed the cause of her current predicament. A rather unfortunate event indeed. Martin was, contrary to what he was experiencing about her other behavior, not amused about so much. A stop had to be made, inserted forcefully into this girls mind. And all he had to do it, was a jet of cold water and his voice. Therefore he proceeded to speak, while drowsing her even more thoroughly.

“You do take yourself to be far more important then you really are, Lady.” Another shot of cold water was added. Not out of malice, but rather aimed at her legs, where the most vicious plant had struck her with intensity. “But you should reevaluate your stance on the possible impropriety of walking right into a patch of poison ivy.” Ivy. A mythical plant indeed. And here he was in no way mystic, but very practical in its application. Burn your skin to teach you a valuable life lesson. Don't follow people whose intentions are unknown to you into dark corners. They might come out of the shadows to bite your behind. And as was his way, he would not demand compensation for that one. Just expect her to be smarter next time. If she got better at following him, he might even have to become creative in finding better deterrents. But this one. A shivering girl in front of him. A green girl. And all because he wanted it so. Pity indeed. A small amount of pity now. More determination. That young girl needed education in some very important things.

“I believe the chemical responsible for the burns forming on your skin is called Urushilol. A secretion of that plant.” Nothing a gardener wouldn't know. This was his domain after all. And he sounded somehow... distanced reciting that bit of information. Soon the cold water stopped flowing from the nozzle. “How are you feeling now?” How am I feeling actually? Was this the right course of action? It had to be. They always had to be. There was no margin of error. Only a hairline fracture along the skull.