Another field trip, another group of unappreciative brats that Krux - as Sander Saunders, naturally - had to lead through the museum. And this one was even worse because-
"This is so boring!" whined the redheaded loudmouth of the group, who had not made his complete disinterest of the exhibit unknown.
"Oh, no!" he protested in a forced light tone, keeping a tight hold on his character all the while, "It's really all very interesting! The battles, the art, 's very exciting!" It was physically painful to keep the dumb smile on his face, but Krux supposed that was the price one paid for a proper revenge plan. It was, supposedly, best served cold. (Even though deep down it continually irked him how no one ever seemed to care about his interests and constantly demeaned his thoughtful presentations. Really, working at the museum was the one thing he enjoyed about this whole pretext, and all of these uncaring children and adults only ever ignored him. Behind the fake moustache and the manufactured grin, it made him mad.)
"I guess," mumbled the kid, and Krux had to make himself satisfied with that.
They had only gone past a few more exhibits when he heard the same high-pitched brat's voice complain to his classmates, "Dr Saunders is so weird ."
He grit his teeth at the statement, forcefully reminding himself that that was the point of the character, before he could lash out at the youth. He was supposed to keep the Dr Saunders persona eccentric, goofy, friendly, so that no one would be able to tell it was him.
The insult rankled all the same. He had heard similar remarks tossed behind his back at various points in his life, and his hatred of that word had never left him. Knowing he would never have been able to keep the Saunders act up if he tried to retort, he just carried on and acted as though he hadn't heard the remark.
Finally the tour was completed, and he was able to retreat back into his hidden workshop for a moment of peace. With a relieved sigh he tore off the fake moustache with a wince, throwing it onto a blueprint-covered work table, before sitting down at it himself. Finally free from his disguise of friendliness, he tapped his fingers against the tabletop and allowed himself to scowl to the empty room.
If I didn't have to keep up the Sanders Saunders disguise, I would have a word or two with that brat's parents about respecting your elders he thought angrily, tapping picking up in pace in time with his ire. Really, who was that child to be calling him weird? His mind flashed back to other Elemental Masters, neighbors,and other children who he had caught using the same insult at him before, his frown deepening. Who were any of them to call him anything ? He was a Master of Time. One would have thought that would earn him the respect he was due. And, well, as for the brat, even if Sanders Saunders was supposed to be odd, he still should have known better than to insult a teacher practically to his face. He sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have made his alter ego quite so eccentric.
Though he knew the necessity of his disguise, and would continue every effort to make sure he had the plan ready for when his brother arrived, he was starting to get tired after day after day of pretending to be someone he was not.
Days of pretending he scoffed, Perhaps a bit more like decades of pretending . Leaning on the worktable, he mused that maybe there was a reason he found it so easy to pretend to be a different person. He often had to lie away his deficiencies, anyway. Lying that he wasn't interested in conversations, when actually he didn't know what to do in them. Lying that he was just too busy for parties and gatherings, when actually the crowds and noise levels overwhelmed him and sent him spiralling. Forcing himself to refrain from talking about his true interests when it was clear that no one cared. Really, he was already used to playing a role, perhaps that was why it was so easy for him to put on the guise of Sanders Saunders.
All at once, he deflated in his seat, his head falling down to be cradled in his hands against the table. Not for the first time over the course of these long decades of work, he missed his brother, a panging loss that ached just as much as his missing powers. Perhaps because of his twin's more outgoing personality, others would always think twice before saying something negative about him when his brother was around. And even if they did, Acronix was always ready with a smirk, a witticism, and an assurance that there was nothing wrong with him. (Or, Krux thought with an ironic grin, a payback plan to enact against them.)
"You don't have to worry about them brother!" , he recalled his brother's child-self voice reassuring him, right after one of Krux's earlier memories of realizing how differently everyone looked at him. "They are fools to look down on people with powers as amazing as ours."
Another moment, another memory, when he had been a teenager on that awkward precipice of child to manhood, his footing in his place in the world uncertain and unformed. He still attempted casual acquaintances then - young enough to try, but old enough to be more heavily affected by constant rejection on the preface that he was 'strange'. As it turned out, not many were interested in the topic of Pirate-era Ninjagan architecture. They all had thought he was weird when he had wanted to talk about nothing else, and he had forced himself to silence.
When he had glumly squared off against his brother in training later that day, his twin had noticed his strained silence (all while his storm of ideas pressed against his lips and he desperately wanted to lay them all out). His brother, with his uncanny abilities to somehow know what Krux was thinking even when everyone else didn't (Acronix claimed it was a special "twin-sense". Krux suspected it was just his natural perceptiveness), got him to relate the whole story of his failed attempt at connecting with others.
He had just scoffed.
"If they will not listen to you, do not bother with listening to them, then!" His brother had told him. "If they do not like your ideas, that is their loss."
And several years after, during their first (horrible failure of a) victory celebration with the Elemental Masters there had just been something about that day, between the earlier battle, the energy of the party, and the Elemental Alliance's constant attempts to speak with him that had caused the party to end with him curled into a ball against the wall - looking for all the world like he had used his pausing powers on himself somehow. He did not remember any of the party itself - the whole event was a blank void in his mind- but he remembered vividly how Acronix was there sitting next to him at the end of it, all of the other party-goers turned to slow-motion around them.
He also remembered, with a clarity accompanied by a sharp anger, seeing even in slow motion the look the Master of Earth was giving him. He had looked at Krux with the surprise of watching someone do something particularly stupid, or like he was a child. Krux wasn't sure which interpretation made him fume more. "Who cares if they do not understand us?" Acronix had said, waving of the stares of the other Masters.
"We know we are worth more than every member of this alliance put together. And you're more intelligent and cunning than any of them. Well, except for myself, perhaps."
Roughly shaking his head, he allowed his brother's voice to reassure him from the past. Exhaling slowly, he flipped open his pocketwatch and watched the second hand click ever forwards. Time continued on, and the moment of his brother's return was getting ever nearer. With his brother once again by his side, the rest of the world's accusations and insults would mean nothing. Together, with his twin who truly knew who he was, they would enact the plan and Krux would be vindicated at last. Then they would show them weird .
But he thought - harshly flipping the watch closed with a satisfying sharp click - the plan will never be achieved if he does not adequately prepare.
"Back to work," he pronounced to the quiet room.
Ugh, this one was more abstract than the others and really fought me the whole time. Like, I need to keep people in character as much as I can, so I wanted to make Krux sympathetic but also keep him the total vengeful SOB that he is. (Doesn't help that Acronix isn't actually there so I have to bend things a little bit to fit the theme.) But I really wanted to look into how he did during that 40 year gap, so I struggled through it.
Then these two kind of mini-stories happened and they were too cute to fight so...
I'm not as sure with this one, so I hope you liked it, such that it is.
