cynicid

[cynicid]

for: @withpains (kiran) date: march, 2040. location: at a local café, novus.

the words on the screens blur into one big jumble of letters that kamilah ceases to pay attention to the moment the news registers with her brain; a hero, dead?

her eyes shift to kiran while she swallows in a bid to get rid of the lump that’s formed in her throat before deciding she needs another refreshment, flagging down the waiter with an outwardly placid smile. but deep down, she feels unsteady. the news anchor carries on with his job and kamilah can feel a shiver run down her spine. how much longer till this job catches up with her, or the ones she holds dear? 

“it was smart of mira to retire,” is all she says through a shaky breath and a pointed glance in kiran’s direction.

[cynicid]

for: @isaachan. date: march, 2040. location: zayid’s office, kronos hq.

"look who it is—my favorite coworker! don't tell odessa i said that." despite the teasing words, his tone is genuine while he beams at isaac. the other is always a welcome sight, especially after the isolated three weeks zayid spent attached to his couch and recovering from the flu. leaning against isaac's desk, he dips his head lower to give the impression he'd like to avoid being overheard (in an empty office) with a wry grin. "you got some time to spare? i need someone to complain to about our new boss."

[cynicid]

for: @amarcnthined. date: march, 2040. location: patrol on the streets of novus.

how does anyone think that such powers are anything but a nuisance meant to determine the rest of your life? there’s no idleness for the likes of her, no moment to pause and catch your breath—there is always another villain to fight, another group of innocent civilians meant to be saved. 

they can’t help it, she thinks. what else would possess one to destroy the one body—as precious as it is—in pursuit of something as vain as glory?

“you’ve been holding up very well,” she says after a moment, casting an approving look at the younger heroine beside her. lunara hasn’t been at this for quite that long but considering her entry into this world and the circumstances surrounding it, kami is surprised to see the girl still standing. “is this your first patrol?”

[cynicid]

for: @amarcnthined. date: march, 2040. location: their office / kronoshq.

he doesn’t know what to do with the thoughts swimming on his mind these days. 

deep down, he’s been wondering about one thing only ever since the news first dropped: how many other employees of kronos were blindsided by the recent development, and are they handling that the same he is? or—and wouldn’t that be worse—what if they aren’t as shocked? jj made their point perfectly clear: you can’t stand in the way of innovation. 

but if this is what innovation looks like, he’d rather have nothing to do with it altogether.

“is the cafeteria very packed?” he queries when he spots odessa coming back from her lunch break, a slight tilt to his lips. “or should i not bother?”

[cynicid]

bundled up in a scarf and cap to obscure as much of her face as possible, kami raises her hand to give suzu a brief salute while the other downs what remains of her drink. someone passed out shots of rum earlier, and she indulged a little too much, knocking glasses together with strangers she’s never seen before tossing the drinks back, relishing the sweet, caustic burn. she’s since moved on to water, hoping to regain a sense of steadfastness.

“is the alcohol making you nostalgic?” she queries, a teasing lilt to her voice before her eyes soften. “i like this place better than all of the galas i’ve ever been to.” there is something homely about this place—the owners who have been running the bar for nearly two decades were among the first that kamilah had gotten to know upon her arrival to novus. meeting suzu happened not much later; while the person she’d been two decades ago had long since died, her friendship with suzu only blossomed.

the question softened the ice around her heart; she thought about her parents, her brothers, how their sons and daughters had looked up at her in awestruck fascination. “i seized the day and flew back home. escaped all the mayhem before anyone could make me do something,” she replies, nails tapping against the empty glass in her grasp. “and you—what did you do?”

velo’s fine, but this bar feels more like home. two streets away from her first shitty flat, it’s where she spent her first nights in novus, eighteen and stubborn and free, and where she came back to for years after that. she doesn’t come around as often anymore, but when there’s something on her mind, it’s here she always returns to. not much has changed—the payment terminal is still two years behind, the neon sign in the back still slightly crooked—and there’s comfort in the lack of ​​evanescence. 

suzu downs the last of her scotch, and as she waits for the bartender to pour another one, she turns towards kami with a slanted grin. “we always end up here, don’t we?” new glass slid over, she raises it towards the other. “i am fucking fantastic.” wry drawl indicates she’s anything but, words tinged by intoxication. she leans forward, a space carved out for the two of them. “and where’d you go off to after the gala? can’t blame you after that shitshow.”

[cynicid]

has it truly been three weeks?

staring at the digital clock hanging on the wall behind his new superior’s desk—a superior who looks very stern and like he wouldn’t appreciate catching zayid zoning out in the middle of a dialogue—he can feel his thoughts drifting away regardless.

three weeks. when the fuck did kronos have time to hire this guy? especially after… all that back at the gala. you’d think they’d be too busy working their pr magic to even consider filling a spot that’s been sitting empty for… as long as zayid can bother to remember. actually, why do they even need a superior? they’ve been doing fine without one for the two years he’s been here. 

and it’s not just that which irritates him: something inside of zayid feels particularly prickly at the behavior he’s shown from the other—from the curt tone, the dismissiveness, to acting like he’s owed anything other than an introduction. 

“if you have to check the file again to make sure you got the right team member sitting here, maybe i should be the one to ask you about being useful.” the team isn't that big, after all: it's just odessa, isaac and him. surely it's not that hard to memorize three faces and the corresponding names?

“i was on sick leave.” zayid’s tone when he speaks is deadpan, completely devoid of any of his usual humor or mischief. it’s so unlike himself that it takes a moment to register the sound of his own voice, his expression straightening into a mask of neutrality soon thereafter. “do you have a name or am i left to guess my new superior’s name?” he purposely disregards the little badge on the desk with the name, dark eyes skeptically scanning the other man’s features instead. 

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 ... @cynicid

a   disapproving   click   of   his   tongue,      darkened   hues   doing   a   quick   once   over   to   the   other   male      :      so   far,      nothing   impressive.      though   not   much   to   worry   about   either.      mostly   unassuming,      but   perhaps   could   be   an   asset      —      if   he   proves   to   be   trusted.      he's   learned   from   odessa   that   he   should   anticipate   for   surprises.      “      zayid,      right      ?      ”      gaze   quickly   turning   back   to   the   file   he's   grazing   over,      quickly   making   note   of   past   experiences   and   merits      ...      specifically,      how   val   can   make   use   of   this   freshly-returned   team   member   if   he   probably   knows   little   to   nothing   about   what's   happened.      off   to   a   great   start.      “      two   things.      one,      tell   me   how   you'll   be   useful.      second      ...      ”      the   file   drops   abruptly   to   the   hardwood,      arms   crossing   over   his   shoulder   as   he   stays   seated   on   his   chair.      “      why   the   fuck   did   they   let   you   disappear   for   three   weeks      ?      ”

[cynicid]

“like you’re strapped for cash,” he retorts easily while attempting to unpack the bag in his lap and taking in the lovely waft of freshly made food. ah, heaven. “don’t be mean,” he whines playfully when odessa reaches for the bag, although the smile that graces his lips is one of fondness, knowing she means well. “you mean beyond what i got from the intranet? someone posted a fucked up conspiracy theory about the gala on the pinwall and tagged a bunch of colleagues in it. i checked back after a few minutes and the post was deleted. kronos really had all their admins on deck to get rid of the stuff that’s been floating online. i even read a theory that stated we hired the twins as performers and that a rival company paid them behind kronos’ back to ruin the reveal of the serum. some fucked up shit that people come up with in their freetime.” balancing the plate with pilaf on his lap, he glances at odessa with easygoing curiosity, noting the exact moment when her tone shifts to something different. he purses his lips. “it sounds like progress, though, doesn’t it? not the kind you might have wanted but—” he gestures around with the fork in his hand, looking for words, before pointing it at her, “—open communication and all that. and if he came back to set the record straight, it sounds serious. i’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“i’d rather they give me compliments in the form of a raise,” she retorts, noting his vestiges of exhaustion. scooting over, she takes the bag from him. “give me that, you sick thing.” unpacking the rest of it, she hands him one container and utensils before taking another for herself. “oh, you have so much to catch up on.” she feigns a pensive expression, poking at her biryani as she wonders just where to begin. oh, yeah, that serum we all saw? way more fucked up than we thought. and my ex? his moms are probably on the nsa’s most wanted list. “you know i ran into eamon already at the gala. at least, i texted you about it. i think the emoji you sent meant something?” she lets out a laugh before quieting, gaze darting towards zayid. “i guess he’s back after he was doing…whatever the fuck he was doing. then he showed up after the gala. told me why he was gone and all that and ugh,” she groans, slumping back into the couch, “it’s just so much to process. like he was gone a year and then boom, all this at once. but he told the truth, yeah? like he said he would.”

[cynicid]

MENA MASSOUD Here Magazine | by Chantal Anderson, June 2019.

[cynicid]

for: @couverts. date: late january, 2040. location: kronos hq.

“i hope you missed me.” the teasing undertone to zayid’s voice is accompanied by a suggestive waggle of his brows and the widest, shit-eating grin he’s ever worn in jj’s presence. he can’t help it though—being able to tease his friends again after his prolonged absence feels like balm to his suffocated soul. there’s only so much text messages are able to cover, after all. “who am i kidding? like you wasted any time thinking about poor old me when you were busy getting—”

yeah, some things are really better left unsaid.

[cynicid]

for: @couverts. date: late january, 2040. location: novus’ airport.

“sebastian!” she half-yells, arms raised to draw attention to herself when she catches the apparently lost silhouette of her former protégé waiting for her in the airport hall.

“lost in thoughts, are you?” she queries, mouth caught between a frown and the subtlest of smiles when she regards baz. up close she swears she catches the slightest difference to the way he usually carries himself but she brushes it off for the moment, thinking it neither the right time nor place to make any inquiries. maybe it’s better to steer the conversation into safe waters for the time being. “thanks for coming to pick me up.”

[cynicid]

for: @amarcnthined. date: late january, 2040. location: in a run down bar somewhere in kronos.

kami is caught between openly scowling at her surroundings or suppressing her dismay in order to put the bar’s clientele at ease; hers isn’t a face so easily forgotten considering how often it’s been plastered all over the town in the past but it’s in moments like these where she misses the anonymity that comes with being a normal citizen. giving suzu a once-over before the corner of her lips tug into a slight smile, she raises her glass of wine in greeting. “long time no see, stranger.” and then, with her voice lowered and eyes shifting to the side, she adds, “how have you been?”

[cynicid]

there’s a frown blossoming on gaunt features, a visual reminder of the flu that forced zayid to occupy his bed (and sometimes, his couch) for the past couple of weeks in an effort to recover. “shouldn’t you take that as a compliment?” while his smile is genuine and as bright as ever at the sight of one of his best friends, the fatigue in his movements is equally as evident when he reaches for the bag. quirking a brow, he continues to talk while unpacking the order odessa brought with her. “nevermind work,” he waves a hand around in the air like he’s shooing a fly away before grinning up at her again, patting the empty space besides him on the couch, “what’s that personal bit all about, hmm?”

with : @cynicid location : zayid’s apartment date : late january 2040

“look alive, babes!” odessa bursts through the door, placing the bag of takeout on the coffee table. “here, everything you asked for. can you hurry up and come back to work? they keep giving me your shit to do.” despite her admonition, her tone is more teasing than annoyed, and she drops onto the other end of the couch, kicking a blanket back on top of zayid. “but i gotta say, you chose a good time to get sick. it’s soooo high-stress right now,” she adds, gesturing just exactly how stressful with a wave of her hands. “no one’s catching a break, least of all me. both personal and work-related. sucks, right?”

[cynicid]

LAYLA EL-FAOULY in MOON KNIGHT | Ep. 4 “The Tomb”

[cynicid]

for: @emmysavoya. date: january 7, 2040. location: buchanan’s gala.

the news of the superserum punctuates the evening’s proceedings in ways that are only applicable to the wealthy and famous: a reminder of the power held by those with the money to spare and a catalog of ideas to buy from. zayid wishes that meeting emerald again could have been under less severe circumstances seeing how rare the opportunity to talk to her has become in recent months. 

“seeing you these days is like winning the grand prix,” zayid quips dryly in lieu of a greeting before shooting her a smile. “i’ve dropped by your office four or five times over the last two weeks and your co-workers always said you weren’t available.”

crazy how fast time flies when you’re busy handling—does he even want to know what emerald does for a living? probably not. he knows enough (or not, depending on your point of view) about cecil royce to be intimidated by the whole department under his direction. “or maybe they just know i’m terrified of your boss.”

[cynicid]

for: @kyllini. date: january 7, 2040. location: buchanan’s gala.

“had you come to HQ the first time i asked you to, we wouldn’t have to do this today.”

zayid’s tone is laced with impatience, the unusualness of which is further highlighted by the strictness of his voice as he gives mizuse a look that is supposed to tell her he won’t accept no for an answer tonight. when he’s satisfied with her response (or lack thereof) he uncurls his fist to display a suspiciously tiny device—an earbud, to be precise—his earlier demeanor soon replaced by a proud grin as he locks eyes with the young superhero. “i repaired and fine-tuned it after it broke the last time,” he says, stopping only briefly to emphasize the word broke before returning to his previous smile, “it should be able to withstand the cold at high speed now.”

which is to say: we need to go out and test it right now immediately.

[cynicid]

for: @ofmemoriam. date: january 7, 2040. location: buchanan’s gala.

there’s two things one should know about zayid. 

one—he doesn’t like gatherings like tonight’s, mostly on account of his own upbringing. two—he often runs out of luck in moments when he needs it most, as evidenced by the champagne spilled on his jacket and the narrow-shouldered woman he nearly knocked over in an attempt to rush to the bathroom to avoid smelling of alcohol for the rest of the evening. the horrified expression on his face lasts only briefly and is quickly replaced by a more apologetic frown when he stops dead in his tracks. his first instinct is wanting to help but the awkwardness of the entire situation has him pausing in his movements. 

what do you even say in a situation like this? sorry, i didn’t see you there, i promise i didn’t intend to run you over? zayid inwardly grimaces at how these all sound like excuses made by a schoolboy before he finally decides to do more than gawk like he didn’t just nearly knock the stranger off her feet—and not in a good way. 

lord help him, he should stop finding ways to crack jokes in moments like these. 

“i’m so sorry—are you alright?”

[cynicid]

for: @pcrennial. date: january 7, 2040. location: outside buchanan’s gala, in the garden near the water fountains.

he’s in dire need of a distraction seeing how this evening has turned out to be everything but what he has anticipated. the mere idea of a pool of invited journalists writing up news articles in their heads as the serum was presented to the world is enough to put zayid off the desire to step into his office for the next fifteen weeks—he can’t even imagine the sheer level of chaos that the marketing department must be currently suffering from.

in the silence that pervades the garden, a hushed noise captures his attention. zayid tears his pensive gaze away from the water show presented by the fountains, only to come face to face with an all too familiar face. “crowd got to you?” he questions idly with a hand thrown over his shoulder, thumb pointing into the direction of the gala while a wry grin traces his features. “i’m better company anyway.”