Title: Still Crazy
Author: Tsutsuji
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Pairing: implied Arcade/Miss Locke
Rating and Warnings: PG13, no warnings.
Word Count: approximately 1825 (at last count, but like Arcade in this story, I can't stop tweaking things, either).
Written for theme challenge communities Overlook (theme set II, prompt 9: reasons) and 100Women (prompt 34: hit).
Disclaimer: The characters of Arcade and Miss Locke were created by Chris Claremont and are owned by Marvel Comics Group, not by me. I make no money from this fic and intend no infringement.

Summary: Miss Locke wonders why Arcade keeps running simulations of a Murderworld-game-yet-to-be instead of getting on with the job, and ponders why she chooses to keep working for him. Takes place before "Uncanny X-Men #204: What Happened to Nightcrawler?!" (April 1986).

A spiral of dust rises out on the dusty horizon of a yellow desert. Something moving beneath the vortex shimmers as it approaches, until a pair of souped-up dune buggies into view, swerving and darting around each other in a mad chase across the sand. The face of the driver in the pursuing vehicle is hidden behind goggles and scarves; in the passenger seat, another figure stands and sways, arms waving, shouting out loud apparently with glee. Shimmering and shifting as if seen through waves of desert heat, the figure appears to be a woman in a tattered white dress, with bright, blue eyes and flaming red hair - or, perhaps, a red-haired man with a crazy grin, or a tall, dark-haired, narrow-eyed woman...

The leading buggy swerves and dodges like an expertly driven stunt car, even though the driver is nothing more than a faceless dummy.

Someone nearby giggles. A moment later, someone else sighs wearily.

"Another practice run? Haven't you already run this simulation a dozen times, Arcade?"

Miss Locke leaned back against the console, facing her employer with a cold, bored scowl. Behind and around her head, the translucent 3-D desert vision stuttered like an old movie.

"Aiy! Hey, what - !" Arcade's gloved hands flew over the master control board as he frantically tapped keys and threw switches. The desert scene flickered, rewound briefly, halted with a jerk, and then switched abruptly to a city alleyway, sinister with lurking shadows.

"Watch where you're planting your gorgeous butt, gorgeous!" Arcade grumbled. "You nearly sat on the master switch - would've crashed the whole program!"

"I know," she replied coldly, arching one eyebrow.

"Huh?"

He looked up at her for the first time and blinked, befuddled by having his attention suddenly dragged away from the game.

She stared at him, waiting for him to fully register the displeasure in her tone of voice and the hint of threat in her glare. When he did, his reaction was to smile up at her sweetly.

"Something the matter, dear?" he said. "Tell Aunty, er, Uncle Arcade all about it, why don't you?"

She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but before she got the first syllable out, his hands were on the keyboard again.

"Just let me get this next program running first," he muttered quickly, "and then we can... Whoa - grk!"

The exclamation was his reasonable reaction to being grabbed by his big, yellow, polka dot bow tie, and hauled halfway out of his console chair.

"Arcade," Miss Locke said, in the deadly tones she usually reserved for clients who tried to weasel out of paying the hefty assassin's fee he didn't really care about. "I'm bored."

"oh," he wheezed in a tiny voice. "uh... sorry?"

She thunked him back down in the chair, released him and stood back with her arms crossed.

"You've been running these same simulations for weeks now. The programs are fine, the system is in perfect working order, the target is in place, and I'm getting bored waiting. And there's a potential new client on my end who wants to know if we're going to do business or not - not that I care if we don't, but I'd like to give them an answer sometime. What's the hold up?"

"Ah," he waffled, straightening his tie and smoothing down his white jacket without looking at her. "Well, you see..." He trailed off with a forced laugh.

"I don't understand why you're taking so much trouble over this one, anyway," she went on, frowning up at the detailed city in the VR image before leaning back on the console. (She watched as his eyes darted nervously from the console to her face; clearly he hoped she didn't notice his divided attention, which of course she did as she casually but deliberately just missed sitting on the master switch again, making him wince.) "There's nothing special about her. She probably won't last through the first sequence anyway, so why on earth are you wasting all this time tweaking the game for nothing?"

"Well... that's just it, you see," he said.

He smiled up at her with disarming innocence. His expression looked as fake as the simulated scenes in the murder game, but she recognized the little flush of embarrassment in his face, and the way he twiddled his fingers nervously as if he suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands. It was the look of a kid who's been caught playing games when he was supposed to be doing his homework.

"Well?" she said, determined not to give him any slack for once.

"Well... you're exactly right, Miss Locke. This target isn't anything special. No mutant powers, no hidden identity, nothing at all to make this game interesting, as far as I can see. No idea why anybody'd pay what they're paying to have her taken out of the picture in the first place. I mean, I hope she lasts through the first couple of rounds, mainly because the later ones get really interesting... some of my best VR work yet, if I do say so myself, but... she probably won't. So I figured..." he sighed with the drama of making a Deep Dark Confession. "I figured, may as well get the most fun I can have out of the anticipation. Big build up and all that - you know?"

He looked up at her beseechingly, and actually fluttered his big blue eyes at her. If she didn't know him better, she would have thought he was pulling the biggest act since Vaudeville.

The problem is, she did know him better. Underneath all that fake fluster and bluster, he really was just like a little kid, desperate for a little fun. A genius kid who happened to get his fun from attempting to murder super-powered men and women with carnival settings and video games, but still... a kid. Always had been, and probably always would be.

Which didn't exactly explain why she was still here, working for him and with him, playing along with his crazy ways, protecting him and keeping him on track, after all these years.

She still stared down at him with her frown of displeasure unwavering. She'd give in to whatever he wanted, she knew, like she always did and probably always would, but she didn't need to make it that easy for him. No fun for either of them that way.

Arcade had looked away, though. He sighed again, this time with far less of the air of the drama queen he usually was.

"I do so hate to be disappointed..." he said softly. "If only it was someone interesting... like one of the X-Men, or ol' Spidey-dude..."

His sigh was more genuine; so was her scowl, now, not to intimidate him but in sympathy. If she just could find a client willing to promise the big bucks to take out one of Arcade's more worthy opponents, or find any excuse to bring one of the super-team-players into Murderworld, she would do it in a heartbeat to keep him happy - and it would be a lot more interesting for her, too. Of course, watching him get frustrated and flustered when the heroes started to win was part of the fun, too, but there wouldn't be any of that with this contract.

Damn, she thought, without any remaining anger. He wins again. The client isn't in all that much of a hurry to get this contract filled, and I suppose I can wait. But waiting doesn't need to be this boring for both of us, does it?

Miss Locke leaned forward and caught Arcade's eye. He glanced up at her guiltily for a second, but quickly replaced guilt with a grumpy pout. She dropped her frown and raised her other eyebrow.

"Well, then, Boss, how about this: let's go get the girl and get it over with - you can take a nap while the game's running if you want to, I'll handle all the boring little details - and then, after she's been shipped off to where's she's going, I'll take you on myself. We haven't played against each other for a while, anyway."

She leaned forward, almost smiling as his eyes got bigger.

"Do you really think your best VR work ever is good enough to beat me?" she said in a tone that was half threat and half seduction. "Somehow I doubt it, but there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"Aw, Miss Locke! That's so sweet of you!" he smiled radiantly, genuine gratitude quickly hidden behind a challenging grin. "That's why I love you, babe - well, one of the reasons, anyway! Just you wait, Dragon Lady; Arcade's got a few new tricks up his sleeve even you won't be expecting!"

"Oh, I'm sure you have, Boss! So, can we go pick up the target now? It's 4 a.m., in case you lost track of time as you usually do; it's the perfect hour for a city trash pickup, and if I remember correctly the profile says the target is an early morning jogger."

"Ah, yes, I seem to remember something about that, too. You're so much better at keeping track of those little personal details than I am. 'Preciate it, love, I really do!" He flicked a few more switches, and in seconds the VR image disappeared. The screens went dark, and then all across the console room, the words "System Ready" flashed on every display. "Go get Chambers to fire up the target-snatching truck, and we'll get this party - such as it is - started!"

Miss Locke turned away without another glance to do as he asked. Once out of his sight, though, she let a little smile force its way onto her face. It wasn't only in anticipation of playing Arcade's game later, though that was a pleasant thought in itself. It'd been far too long since they played against each other, and she wished she'd thought of offering a rematch sooner; it might have saved them both a lot of boring hours.

But there was another reason to smile, a little hope, though it might amount to nothing, really. She did remember the details of non-virtual life better than Arcade did, sometimes, and right now she was remembering the area the target lived in: Manhattan, the Upper West Side, a nice enough neighborhood for a nobody that somebody thought was worth hiring a fancy assassin to get rid of. More importantly, though, she thought of the high concentration of heroes and their friends who also lived in that part of town. Maybe one of them would happen to notice a slightly peculiar garbage truck prowling through the streets, hear the distinctive "sflanng" it made when it was making a pickup, and decide to come running to an unknown victim's rescue.

It could happen, she thought. Life was full of little surprises like that. It would be too boring to contemplate if it wasn't, and that's why she was still working for the crazy assassin Arcade after all these years, and probably always would be.