Xaviers!

Having been perp-walked into the detention area by an angry set of pants, King Chameleon sat stoically in one of the Point's detention cells, resolutely staring forward with a self-confidence and righteousness that comes from the faith of the zealot.

He had not, to this point, given anyone much useful information to work with.

((open))

Which, in turn, frustrated the pair of pants that was trying to get him to talk enough that they'd left and returned as a pink-haired girl with a couple wrapped sandwiches and two cans of soda.

"Alright, I dunno if you're as sick of this as I am, but I brought you something to eat. I get you're all... zealous and shit about what you tried to pull but dude, forget about the whole crown-princess shit for a second. You tried to disfigure a poor young woman and for what? Politics? A paycheck? Some kinda revenge?" she says as she puts half of the foodstuff into the little transfer hatch.

King Chameleon did not reach for the food.

"Young and woman, maybe. Poor, not so much. You can not just...'forget' the whole crown princess aspect; it is who she is."

"Not fiscally poor, you ding-dong! And eat your sandwich. You're a shapeshifter, I assume you're low-key hungry at all times." she says and snaps, a chair galloping down the hall to park itself behind her in a move she must have intentionally set up beforehand just so she could make sitting down to eat look cool.

Still, King Chameleon did not reach for the food -- perhaps in pure spite, at this point.

"She and her family deign to rule over us, flaunting their power and wealth. It is disgusting."

"Well, not gonna lie, I'm not a huge fan of monarchy as a form of government either. But maybe this isn't Katarina's fault personally? Neither does disfiguring her really do anything productive, don't you think? They'd jst replace her with somebody else and then you're right back to some posh ass lording it over you." she says between bites of her sandwich.

"Defacing a symbol damages the movement behind the symbol. The Princess is a symbol for the direction the Karkov Family is taking Symkaria; the wrong direction. We no longer recognize her authority in these matters."

"I'm sure there are plenty of actual statues of her to deface. There's no need to be a dick about it."

"Wars generally do not end from defacing statues."

"Look man, I get it. Maybe not as well as you, I've had a pretty prived upbringing, but fighting a righteous cause? Yeah, for sure. You wanna bring some real change, make a difference, topple an unfair system. But not like this, man."

"We do not negotiate with tyrants."

"Okay come on, you live next to Latveria and a real tyrant. You're telling me the young woman whose face you melted is a horrible despot? Do you even know if she wants to be queen someday?"

"It is because we live next to Latveria that Symkaria needs strong, principled leadership. The Karkovs have proven themselves to be failures and degenerates.

If the Princess wished to not take over and drive us further into decay, she merely needs to abdicate. She has not; she will not."

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You want to get rid of her in favor of a different monarch?"

"In favor of the rightful monarchs. The ones who will lead Symkaria back to glory."

"And what makes them more rightful and less of a tyrant?"

"They uphold what it means to be Symkarian. They do not eat away at our very core, our very souls. Fate and destiny are on their side."

"That sounds a lot like a bunch of empty propaganda." Robin says, standing up with her fists on her hips.

"We have already taken over two major cities. It is only a matter of time before the reign falls."

"Bugger me, you're in a full blown civil war? Over what!?"

"Over the future of our nation!"

The fallback of the zealot.

"In Symkaria, we live and die by our traditions. They are what have kept us safe -- from the Romans, from the Soviets, from the Latverians, from the Nazis. The Karkovs would toss them all in the dustbin and surrender us to our foreign invaders. She has already cast her lot here, after all."

"There's a civil war. Because she... went to school in a different country? Good grief."

"She dances with dictators and flirts with harlots, all while her father commissions statues and paintings, making us worship his golden idol. The decadent West has irreparably destroyed the Karkov regime; it is time for one of the other royal families to take over the country, while there is still a country to take over. When our traditional values are under attack, we must defend ourselves."

"I'm sure that dictator would have calmly accepted a rejection with the most neutral of expressions on his mask. And who people flirt with is none of your bees wax, so have fun sitting in here while I go see if I can get your diplomatic paperwork passed all the way up the chain."

"I must speak with someone at the embassy immediately, unless you enjoy taking political prisoners."

"Like I said, I will make sure to inform the highest authority I know on the matter so they can get into contact with you. Cell reception's kinda bad down here, but I'll see what I can do."

King Chameleon crossed his arms, and sat back down.

He never did touch his food.

Later, after the lights have been turned off and the Point is empty save for it's unsleeping holographic guardian, a lone shadow silently makes her way through the corridors and to the detention cells. It's only when she steps into the middle of the hall in front of King Chameleon's cell do the automatic lights turn on, illuminating a very angry disgraced Lieutenant, the overhead lights casting stark shadows over her slightly downcast face. She reaches out and with a couple of taps on the control panel the energy barrier closing off Chameleon's cell dissipates.

King Chameleon glances up, and quickly identifies the woman standing across from him. After all, who hadn't heard of the disgraced ex-bodyguard?

"Do you have something for me, Novak?"

"Yes." she simply says as she steps into the cell and throws an open-palm blow to his solar-plexus.

Chameleon rolls to the side to deflect part of the force of the blow -- though not entirely, as he let out an *oomph* of impact. He rolled and shot out an elbow aimed for the back of Nika's head.

She barely bothers to dodge, letting the blow glance off her skull and just powering through the ringing headache as she jabs her fingers into the nerve cluster in his armpit. She's very clearly going for blows that hurt and potentially disable but don't leave much of a mark.

The precise strike rings true, and Chameleon feels his arm going numb. He responds by driving his shoulder into Nika's sternum, attempting to knock both of them to the floor in the area surrounding the bed.

Nika keeps fighting for a while, probably taking as much as she's giving until she finally backs off, panting and holding her arm against her stomach.

"<You fucking piece of shit...>" she snarls between pained breaths.

The person who stands up to greet her when she peels herself off? The spitting image of herself, standing up. At some point in the fracas, King Chameleon had taken on her own form. Perhaps perfectly symmetrical violence would be the answer to all of their problems?

"<Look at that, you can turn into a different kind of garbage.>" she spits some blood-streaked saliva at Chameleon's feet.

<"You might think about picking a side at some point. Self-flagellation doesn't suit you.">

"<Spare me the recruitment pitch. Which fucking backstabbing house of degenerates send you? Svozilov? Toman?>"

<"You shall place more respect on the names of King Francois and Queen Lilith if you ever wish to be allowed to return to Symkaria again.">

"<I'd rather live in exile with what little honor I have left than bow to those Pretenders. You tried to melt the Crown Princess. By all rights I should execute you on the spot!>"