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Who: Leto Atreides the II
Broadcast: Video
Action: Hospitality Deck, Marsiva
When: Feb 4th

[ The video activates itself to reveal a young man staring into space. His eyes are probably the most startling thing about him. Bright, eerily blue eyes that seem to pierce the fabric of reality. You may also see brown flecks of creatures embedded into his skin, near the neck and face.

And suddenly his gaze snaps back to the camera and he is all smiles and good intentions, as if a switch had been turned on. He sits on one of the many beds on the Marsiva Deck and kicks his legs, caught between the impression of a boy and a man.

( or something much older and far more dangerous ) ]

I do not need the spiel and I'm sure you are all quite thankful for that, but I am curious to know what qualifies as entertainment for our most benevolent hosts?

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[There's only the image on the screen, but at the mention of fighting, FDR can't help but size him up anyway.] You any good?

[Oh, well, that kind of offer makes up for the lack of manners.] Yeah, apparently buying things requires credits which requires the assholes watching this 'reality show' to like us. Or...something. But if you've got a way to build a weapon, man, that'd be-that'd be awesome.

[ Leto would not look like much. Lean, wiry frame, a little young to be saying such things with utmost confidence. And there's the matter of that strange brown mass crawling up his neck, like something alien and frightening . . . ]

I can hold my own easily enough.

And with the right materials, I could probably make this . . . gun.

[ Which he still considers to be a waste of time, from his tone, but hey, he'll do it. ]

[Wiry doesn't mean much, he's seen tiny guys fight. He's just looking for some sort of tell that he's one of them-and he's not really finding anything one way or another. And he's totally just calling those marks tattoos.]

That so? Been in a lot of fist fights?

We talking like one of my "archaic guns" [Yeah, air quotes.] or something with melting lasers?

In a manner of speaking. I was trained from birth to know how to fight.

[ Every heir to every noble house must be prepared to fight and survive. Their legacy depends on it. ]

I'm not handing you a melting gun. You'll have to settle for the one which shoots "bullets".

That's a little dramatic, isn't it? I'm sure you were walking before they were teaching you to block punches at least.

[And he holds up a resigned hand. Because even a gun with bullets is definitely better than nothing.] Alright. Fair enough. Don't tell me it's because we already have trust issues?

You'd be surprised. Fremen give children their first knives when they are three.

[ Not to mention Leto was literally old when he was born. Every memory, every skill, every experience his family tree ever had was poured into him the instant he was conscious of himself. ]

It is not the lack of trust. You do not have the training for it.

Fremen. That your family name? [And that's rather intense, so he's just gonna...put that to the side. He has eight year old cousins who's greatest trick is spinning around with a bucket on his head until he falls. A three-year-old with a knife just isn't even computing.]

Well, I mean, there's a grace period for any new weapon. But it can't be that different than a normal gun, can it? Aim and pull the trigger?

No. My family name is Atreides. I was raised as a Fremen though.

[ Which might sound familiar if you're a sci-fi fan. ]

In principle, yes, but you would need to know how to care for it, what to do if it over heats. I rather not provide such a weapon unless it's absolutely necessary.

[Nope. He's never gone that deep into the sci-fi world unfortunately.]

Well, now you've got me all worked up. Gun tease. [But the tone is light and he's still got a decent grin going.] You know, I am pretty proficient with most-

[Right. He's pretending to be a cruise ship captain here.] Alright. Beggars can't be choosers, right? What do you need?

Phallic metaphors already? My, you're quick to jump the gun.

[ Yeah, who is even going to buy the cruise ship thing anymore, really. ]

Parts, mostly. The firing cylinder for the gun is the main thing.

Clever. [Was that intentional? Either way, he's amused.] But it's never too early for a dick joke when talking about firearms.

[Hey. You know, there are threats. Like...pirates. Even captains have a gun, right?]

If I had all the parts, I'm pretty sure I could put it together myself.

Oh?

I wouldn't have thought you had the training. What is it you do again?

[ Now he's teasing. ]

...Didn't think I said what I did at all yet.

[Suspicious, kid.]

But, uh. Cruise-ship captain. And yeah, captains totally carry guns.

Ah, and knowing how to make one too.

[ It's kind of cute, watching a bad lie unfold. It's been so long since someone has tried to lie to his face. ]

But you are the expert, Captain.

[Wow, what is that tone?]

...Army reserve before I found my calling as a captain.

[It's not exactly a lie he's ever really had to keep up, except with his Nana. And it was a really convenient excuse to ditch a girl. But this is his first time having to actually stick with it for the long haul. It's a work in progress.]

And what do you do? Besides come out of the womb fighting?

[ He shrugs lightly - a strange habit on someone who acts far older than he looks. ]

I am the heir to an old dynasty. The House Atreides. What I do is politics. Politics to keep my head above water, to make sure my house runs . . . smoothly.

[ Well, it was true. Except his reach is not just his House. ]

...So, you're like a prince? Of the future. Where laserguns and forcefields are a thing. Did the future decide they didn't like democracy? [Yeah. Sure. Why not.]

There was democracy, for a while. After we left Earth and other planets were established as bases, a family monocracy was formed. One Emperor, five noble houses and other minor ones.

[ He pauses, the memories flitting through his mind. He shook his head. ]

History has a way of repeating itself, no matter how far you go. And to keep a long reach, democracy was less viable.

Why'd you leave Earth? [Yeah, there are a lot of things he could approach there, but honestly, politics is a cold spot for him. It has to be. He's seen too much shit in other countries. So he follows orders and leaves it at that.]

Why does one go anywhere? When the universe is at your fingertips, when opportunity knocks, you must walk out your door.

The Earth was such a door.

[ And it was so long ago. Leto vaguely recalls its culture now, mostly reminded by it by the people he meets from that time. Dean's songcalls, Bucky's idioms, Ben's moments of humour. ]

Right. That doesn't sound power-hungry at all. [And he shrugs.] So, it's still standing though?

[ He frowns, though not out of irritation and anger. ]

I . . . believe so. It's been so long. For most of us, Earth is not a home, but a distant part of our memory.

How distant? What year are you from? [In the end it probably doesn't matter, since there seem to be alternate Earths, with different histories and more than likely different futures. But there's always a chance it could be his.]

10219 AG. A useless string of numbers and letters, but you asked. As for how many years, I would say it numbers among the millions.

For a more accurate timeline, I would need far more time than one conversation.

[Yeah he's just... gonna rub the bridge of his nose at those numbers.]

What do you mean, more than one conversation? How does that help? Wouldn't it just be easier to ask what year I'm from if that's what you're trying to figure out?