She pulled a face as the shovel was held up and inspected before her- more so hoping that it would change the inevitable some how... but when she saw Saph's expression shift, she knew there was trouble.
>>"You stay right here, okay? Your nightmare will be over soon, I promise."

"What?" While soft, the question spoke volumes about how her nerves. A tight, squeaky voice normally went well with a side of near hysterics and a tall glass of I'm-going-to-faint. He nodded, moved past her and she turned with him- staring dumbly. "Where are you going?..." She was ignored. An eye twitched behind her glasses and she followed slowly. "What ever you intend to do-" She watched him stop, and raise the shovel, and her heart leapt into her throat. "SAPHIRUS!!" Without really thinking- as she had done before- Andrea took a running leap and attatched herself to Saph's back.

Like a monkey she managed to cling to him with one arm and her legs while her other hand reached out and grabbed ahold of the Shovels handle. "Don't you dare-" He was much stronger than her, she noticed, as the tool was neatly and carefuly disected from her grasp. She huffed, switching tactics. "For god's sake, Saphirus, and mine don't do this..." She whispered, as best she coul because she was slipping from her Saph perch. She didn't need a lawsuit on her hands... nor did she want to see anyone killed...

Working merrily, he had registered the two that had asked for his shovel. Two sets of breaths. And for the key to his tool shack. Working in the bed, trying to correct some mistakes that would keep him busy for a while. The plan in his mind looked different from the appearance of reality. Which meant one of them had to budge. To give way to accept the other. Martins mind just wasn't quite up to that yet. He was wondering slightly, what they would do in there, but maybe he didn't want to know. Or maybe they were going to take some work in the garden off his hands and allow some actual spying to take place. The movie spying. This was real spying though. Waiting for things to happen at places where people overlooked you.

* * *

Work had progressed slowly in the flowerbed since Andrea and her companion had left for the shack. Another little flower or two had found their way from a plastic post ( a line of which stood neatly by his side) into small holes in the ground that were dug by hand, by his hands. He was kneeling on the ground himself. There the little plants were pushed tightly into the soil and the leftovers of the hole digging then were made into a small wall around the roots. Just to be sure. And to catch some rain maybe. All of the grips and movements seemed to be practiced. No second tries were necessary. And of course, he heard, despite the fact that somewhere on the mansion grounds a bird was singing a merry song, much to merry, happily, warring for a place to bear its children, for a bird to come for mating, he heard their breaths and his working ceased.

And then he heard Andreas, the green Ladies, the girl in browns, voice coming up to make comments designed to hinder, to stop, to impale. And Martin rose to is full height in an instant. He was kneeling. Ad then he was not. Rising high before them, the scene under his steel eyes scrutiny. Scrutinizing gaze. Sanitizing gaze. There was a man. A shovel raised above his head, aimed at him. And he was close. On his back as hanging the young green Miss he had rescued from the bookshelves of the library. She was grabbing at the shovel, but the man was much stringer then her ans slowly winding it from her grasp. His face was unreadable. His young face. He dusted the earth off his legs and then simply waited, standing, for the man to finish his removal of the lady. And come at him it seemed. What was the reason for that? What might be? He would find out soon enough. He stepped a little closer to the man. Within arms reach. Two steps. Eyes watching. You cant escape, son. Not here. “What are you doing?” His voice was sharp. Commanding. His body seemingly limp. Seemingly. Strange things happened here. He was basically waiting to be attacked. Waiting to be hit. asking to. Child, you have no idea what you just brought down on you if you want to do what I think you are.

Saph stumbled in surprise as he felt Andrea leap onto him, and grab the shovel. He paused as he regained his balance, and blinked a few times, easily plucking the shovel from her grasp, and gently lifting her off of him with his left hand, and plopping her right down. He eyed her for a moment, wondering what was up. Did she want him to teach this guy a lesson or now. He reached up and patted her lightly on the head, Of course, she feared that him retaliating for her would make this guy target her more... He would make sure that didn't happen.

Martin spoke up, and Saph turned to him, blinking. "What do you think I'm doing? Dishing out a little American style JUSTICE." he quickly got into his fighting stance, right side forward to take the blows, left side back, ready to counter. He reminded himself that this guy was most likely a mutant, and now that he was prepared, he would have to be more careful, Saph switched the shovel into his right hand, and purposely telegraphed a shot at the guy's face, instead swooping it down toward his kneecap. Even if the blow hit it wouldn't do a thing, considering he was using his right hand, and he simply couldn't do any damage with it, even with the fairly heavy shovel in hand. It would be a good test of this guy's reflexes, though.

Like a bug, she was plucked from his back and set aside. To add insult to injury, he also patted her on the head like a child. Of course, her attention shifted from him, to the stoic looking Martin. Oh... he could be scary when he tried. But, that was unimportant at the moment. "Saph-" She was promptly cut off when he launched into his 'I'm a big hero who will protect this small woman from harm!' pose. Andrea sighed, at everything that had happened thus far, and slapped a gloved hand sharply onto her forehead. Dragging her palm and all five digits down her cheek and lips, she glared daggers- or tried to anyway- at the back of Saph's head. "Saphirus..." She was ignored once more.

Around that time, after his little JUSTICE! line, he decided it was time to strike and swung the shovel at the gardener. Andrea sucked in a breath of air, her hands flying to her eyes to block out the attack, and uttered something akin to a soft shriek. She didn't want to see it- nor what was to happen after...

Why did it have to be strange situations like this one? The guy who had just borrowed his shovel now coming back with it to hit him over the head with it. How nice of him. How polite. He had at least said thank you and everything. Would you please die? Why target the frail looking gardener anyways? He had dirt on his knees, his coarse working gloves were earthy. And yet, his blue eyes somehow manages to sparkle in calm fury. You just made me a little angry, punk... talking about justice. “And here I thought there would be a jury needed for that.” He said, while he proceeded to close the distance to the young adult. And the shovel came. In his eyes quite slowly down on him. A path that could be expected.

You failed, punk.

He simply turned on the spot. Didn't jump aside. Didn't take a step back. He turned himself in to him. By moving his body into a spin that should leave enough room for the shovel to pass by his knee harmlessly. And giving him the opportunity to grab at the arm of his would be foe. That much for agility and experience. Sometimes temporal mutations were a real asset, too. And there was Andrea of course. Screaming in the background. There were birds singing. And everything was perfect. Except that for some reason that child had just decided to attack him. “Ill make you regret this, boy.” Another mutter, uttering. Without so much as a greater effort. Effortlessly given.

This guy was fast. He moved nimbly around Saph's blow like he had experience in battle as well. He wasn't the only one, though. Saph had fought people faster than him before, and he had won, too. What this did mean was that his usual bash-em up tactics wouldn't be so useful here. He would have to fight with his head.

While the guy had speed over him, he was willing to bet he had the advantage in the strength department, unless this guy's mutation made him stronger... He certainly had a weight advantage as well. He would have to use those to his favor. The man reached for his arm. He was a grabber. It made sense, as he was clearly not built for putting up ones dukes, so he was probably one of those guys that either used joint manipulation, which was painful, or was going to try and use his momentum on him to throw him around. He'd fought both before, and, admittedly, lost both fights, but that didn't mean he would lose this one. He had to think quickly. The man got ahold of him, and he used his close range to the advantage. Instead of trying to pull away, or continuing his forward momentum, he moved to lean right into the man, and pull him to the ground, where his speed advantage would be useless. He was sure to keep his center of balance low so he couldn't just be thrown away.

If this turned out right, they would both go to the ground, with Saph on top. He was sure this tactic would look clumsy, but in theory this would be the best way to get this done. "You're the one who's gonna be sorry, pal."

There was no answer. No vocal answer to his threat. Threatening leaning into him. Putting weight forward the man tried to weigh him to the ground. Which he could have if he so desperately wanted him dirtying his clothes further. His grip around the arm, the hard piece of flesh working at bringing him down, too, it was the answer.

A sharp pull at that arm. All his weight pulling at the body, while one of his feet planted itself firmly at the mans hip. He was leaning down. His back nearly touching the ground now. And... maybe this one would be with him shortly. Maybe if all things worked he would find heaven and earth had changed places for him this once. With a little help. A pull over his head. Toss overhead, using the weight of the man to propel him over the lever of his leg, while his back was firmly planted on the ground.

What was it that drove him? The air would probably leave his lungs, so further questioning would be futile. Unless he could get up first. He knew what was happening, so maybe that would give him the split second needed to scramble around. After all. His arm was still with him. In his hand. At his mercy?

Saph's head ended up below his feet, but that was okay because he figured it would happen sooner or later in this fight. He kept his eyes on the man who was throwing him the whole time; a fixed point of reference tended to keep you from getting as disoriented as you might be when getting thrown around. He slammed onto the ground on his right side, letting go of the shovel so that it wouldn't get in the way. he ended up looking up at Martin, who still held his arm tightly in his grasps.

The older mutant silently thanked himself for attacking with his right hand. It meant he hand been thrown right side first, which meant he could absorb the impact of slamming into the ground, instead of getting incredibly beat up about it. He smiled; The guy still had his arm; he was already reaching as well to grasp the arm that held his... He was sure it would be easy to pry it loose from his own as he spun to his feet in a crouched position. After that he would grasp it tightly in both hands, and push off with his legs while pulling back on the hand that had once held him. The effect would send the crown of his head right into Martin's cheek with little possibility of evasion, considering he would have the guys hand tightly in his grasp.

That was, if everything went as planned, of course.

It was so fast.... from the outside. So slow for him. Something like that. There is no such thing as fast... or slow. Noting like that existed in his world. Had ever since.... a very long time ago. But what was that anyways? A long time? Now? The world spun as predicted, with the sun he went, the movement preceding its by the time of hours yet to come. And yet... things went different from what he had planned for the things after the spin.

The man was far less impeded by the sudden shift in position then he had anticipated. Nor seemed there to be any ill effects from the heavy slam to the ground that had left the green blades of grass crumpled and damaged, a small outline forming a hazy denture in the green on the ground. And he was quick. Despite his size his reaction could barely cope with the sudden deviation from the actions planned, predictions failing. Graphs running out into nothingness. They touched the ground here. The bottom of things. Touching. Just skimming along. Where they would go? Predictions failing, premonitions of doom, nothing could tell, seers looking out into the dark. When there was an end to science... to experience, what could help your way along then? What could help you but a cane? Wisdom?

So all he could do when a head was rushing up to his, was to take care of the fact that the man would not be in danger of touching his bare skin. Some little kindness he showed him. In offering his own hair up to him. Bowing the head to him in almost formal gesture, comical, his hands being firmly in the mans grasp. Not even bothering to offer resistance. Resistance is futile after all, is it not? In these situations. Offering up his own head for the mans sake more then his own. He could deal with these things. Sometimes he could. But that were notions, motions, that should not be started here. Not this day, not now. So he invited him. The berserker. To hit.

With force.

There was a muffled thud as their heads collided. And for a moment the world was a blackness of pain. Red pain running down in streams from a small pinprick point.

In another world, his body was thrown back. Back from where two forces had collided with almost no resistance offered from the one. A head that snapped back. A mutilated body part. Participants unwilling. Just halting a little bit before the ultimate end of the maximum stress on the spine. Spinal chord pains? A few lines dug into the grass told of the story.. a particular story. How he ad tried, after the pain went away, to pull his hands from the grasp, to slip away. For the mans own good. For his good. To stumble away, crookedly away, just away. From him. Slightly dazed the view out of his eyes. His body could not quite keep back the eyes from watering. At the unpleasant sensation. Away. To some more favorable ground his mind said. He would hate to repair the damage afterwards, but right now... getting near the roses seemed to be a good idea. While still stumbling. Just ordinarily dazed. There nothing wrong with my feeling wrong is there? I'm not playing. At least I'm trying not to play to much with you, dear berserker. On hs head a lump was forming. A big angry blue one.

A loud thud was his reward for his quick reaction. It echoed in his head for a moment, as a good headbut always did, and he was given a moment of pause; it hurt a little for him too, once again, as a good headbut always did. He had struck with the crown of his head, the strongest part of the structure, so he was sure to be in much better condition. Saph let his foe get up first; it wasn't like he was going anywhere, he had already garnered the advantage, at least in his mind.
One blow like that usually turned the tides in a fight; one person's brain was rattling in their head, and the other was still an alert hunter.

Saph got up slowly as his foe stumbled toward the rose bushes. Good, he had him on the run! The force manipulating mutant turned to grab the shovel once again, looking briefly to Andrea as he picked it up, and then throwing it over his right shoulder.... And then he charged at his opponent, confident that his reaction time must have floundered after such a bruising blow. He could feel victory in his grasps! He went in for the tackle, aiming to knock him down, get a mounted position, and then beat him with the shovel for an hour and a half.

He hoped Andrea would forgive him for taking action, here, but he simply couldn't bare to see such an innocent person abused at the hands of some scrawny gardener.
"Thats what you get for beatin up such a nice girl!"

They were beautiful roses. Slightly yellow colored buds showing everywhere in the thickly woven mass of branches. Interwoven around some poles, black metal, a gloved hand had put in the ground to give them something to cling to. It was really a beautiful sight if one took the time to notice it. Martin had a lot of time. But the roses were a secondary concern now. After all his little fried had picked up his shovel again and was storming at his swaying figure.

A swaying figure, that, as the other mutant was charging inevitably close, infinitesimally close, nearly touching already, quite suddenly lost a good bit of its wounded demeanor and started, with a firm grip of the hands, to sway his attacker. Sway him to pursue a new road of action. Enactment. It looked nearly like a dance. And it took the effort of dancing only, to spin around the wild boar of a beshoveled man and give him a firm nudge with both hands in the back.

The viney arms of the roses would welcome their new lover gladly. If only his headache were gone. Yellow blossoms and a girl. Ready for a kiss? There were thorns among those tight-knit vines. As people had moths. "Your decision. Your pain." A hiss. A spike. Thorny lanugage.

Saph realized his mistake just a little too late. This guy's head was apparently harder than he'd thought, because he snapped right out of his apparent daze and pulled some more of that throwing crap... Saph knew there was no way he could halt his forward momentum at this point, he was going to go where ever this guy wanted him to go.

He did, however, have the ability to make the guy pay for it. The man spun around him and gave him a shove, and Saph spun quickly as well, swinging the shovel at the man's cheek as he fell, hoping to give him the same bruise he allegedly gave poor Andrea... Did he land his blow? He didn't know, he was too busy falling into a rose bush at a rather high speed.

Curses and loud thrashing noises could be heard from a great distance as Saph did just that in the painful embrace of the rose bushes. "OW Sh-ow! Ohhh man, wait till I get my f@#$in hands on you, you son of a- OW! Goddamit, ARGH!" He thrashed around more as he tried to escape the bush, but he was only making it worse, lining himself with a wealth of tiny paper cuts all down his left side.

As he was ready for a kiss it seemed. The bite of cold steel. So refreshing to the skin. No rupture. Just a cold kiss. Peck on the cheek. The very cheek, that Andrea still clutched from time to time. Or would be clutching. If she was anything like him. Because the kiss. It was one of love. O overbearing love. It made his head spin. And him sit down. Quite rapidly.

Uncontrollable decent. Energy of movement. His pride was hurt. A little.

His cheek hurt a lot.

On the other side that was.

Andrea had peeled back her fingers from her eyes just in time to see Saphirus tip into the bushes, and the shovel swung up and met with Martins face. A gasp tore itself from her throat and she darted forward, for the most part ignoring Saph as he struggled in the thorns and roses. "Martin, are you alright?" She wasn't able to keep panic from flooding her voice for long, nor was she able to stop it from shifting to aggravation when she saw the mark that had been left on the Gardeners cheek.

She knew from the last time she had met him- or at least figured- that he didn't like to be touched, so the twenty two year old didn't make any moves to manhandle him. Instead, she pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows together. Flushing light brown as she turned on her knees and fixed a shielded glare on the still struggling and cursing man.

"Saphirus! Do you have a brick for a brain in that skull of yours?! You just assaulted an innocent man!" Huffing, she turned fully, forgetting about Martin momentarily as she got to her feet and adopted her Greek Mother pose. Pointed finger, and on hip and all. "If you had simply listened to me when I tried to explain this whole thing to you, none of this would have happened- Will you stop thrashing?! You are ruining all of his work!- I told you before that he was not the one to hit me, it was an accident!"

She watched him for a moment longer, tapping a foot like her mother had used to do, before recalling the injured man behind her. Wincing, she turned and dropped back to her knees, sending the offending shovel nearby a rueful glance before she tried- keyword: tried to meet Martins gaze. "I am sorry... again. This is all my Fault..." She sighed, and fiddled with her fingers in her lap for a moment.

"My friend here saw my bruise and got it in his head that the worse had happened. I did not properly explain the situation... Please do not be too mad at him..." She winced again, hearing Saph's struggle behind, and bowed her head. "...Would you like me to go find you some ice...? or the Doctor?"

Saph paused in his struggling just long enough to get a real ear full from Andrea. Wow; she was really yelling at him! But, but... She was saying it was all an accident again, but instead of sounding all pitiful and fragile about it, she sounded firm and angry... "Well geez! Why didn't you say so?!" He struggled more, and growled in pain as another scratch formed on his arm. "Argh!"

It was no use. He was stuck; he wasn't going anywhere. He felt a great wave of distress raised within him as Andrea turned away from him to go help the man he'd hit, without even offering to help him up. He felt another tapping on his forehead, and just frowned in response. God, what an idiot he was; he was just trying to do that right thing...

Tap tap. Curse you, invisible man of tapping. Curse you, and damn you to hell. He tried to get up once more, got three new cuts for it, cursed under his breath, and muttered. "A little help?" Lowly. Maybe it would come, maybe it wouldn't.