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Who: two nerds and you
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: now!

[ The audio comes on sharply, but everything is still dark as two people discuss their situation.]

Is that the camera? Can you get it to work?

I - think so? Here, push this --

I am pushing it, Hank. I thought you knew about these from that show you keep watching. Space Trek?

It's Star Trek and that isn't exactly - you know, the same thing as this.

Right. . . . Wait, I think I see something on the side.

[ And the video flickers on, the red light glowing softly. It focuses on two men. One in a wheelchair and the other right next to him, peering curiously at the camera before they step back satisfied. ]

Well, that’s over and done with. Hello to anyone who might be out there. My name is Charles Xavier and this is Hank McCoy. Apparently we’ve been kidnapped again, by an unknown force again for some mysterious reason.

[muttered:] Again. [and louder] So if anyone would be kind enough to explain exactly what's going on, we'd appreciate it. You have our thanks in advance.

But do keep it pertinent.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[that's . . . that's unnerving. He shifts from foot to foot under her stare, and he only stops when she addresses Charles directly. And -

He turns away to cough over the noise he makes at what she says. Oh geez]

[Her world's Dark Beast would never be unnerved so easily. It gives her some additional pause, but her stare is no less cold when she speaks.]

You're not what I expected.

[if he wasn't a thirty-something year old man, he'd be giving in to the urge to hide behind Charles' wheelchair, that's how unnerved he is]

I'm . . . uh. Is that good or bad?

Depends on how you look at it. [Because it probably means she can't push him out of an airlock when he does get shuffled.

Probably.]

Good for you.

Good for me.

[he repeats it a little weakly] I'm definitely not . . . whatever it is that's making you look at me that way. [he hopes, anyway]

I guess we'll find out.

I will stop you if you are. [She's not letting him hurt anyone else. But looking at him like this—confused, nervous—somehow she feels like the bully.]

[he tilts his head, studying her for a moment. Then he blows out a sigh, and lifts a hand to rub at his face, under the glasses]

I don't doubt you will. Whatever it is you're stopping me from doing.

[he wants to ask her to elaborate on what that is, but then again . . . he isn't sure he wants to know]

Tell me about yourself, McCoy. [It may sound like an order.]

[he knows better than to not listen to scary women, but - ]

Why don't you tell me what you know about me, and I'll confirm or deny? [he tilts his head] Because there isn't much to tell.

I know you're not the McCoy from my world. I'm just betting you're still a sociopath.

Hank, please.

[and he stares at her for a moment before he squares his shoulders a little, both concerned and insulted]

I'm a scientist and soon-to-be teacher again at Charles' institute. I'm about as far from a sociopath as you can get.

[Nope.]

The McCoy I know is a brilliant scientist who experiments on non-consenting prisoners. He might be able to make them stronger and if not it doesn't really matter, does it? There are always more where those came from and he can just recycle the genetic fodder into his Infinite soldiers like the ones who murdered my parents when I was thirteen, and came to take me to the breeding pens for his play time.

[Voice getting more emphatic as she goes.]

[he opens his mouth to argue at the beginning, but he immediately snaps it shut instead as she goes on, letting her—oh god. He wasn't sure what he expected to hear, and this is the very last thing he would ever have thought of. His expression falls and the color drains from his face, going from annoyed to horrified to horrified disbelief.

He's left staring at her while it all sinks in. His jaw works a few times before he finds his voice, and the only thing he can think of to say is:]

I'm . . . I'm so sorry.

You don't get to be sorry! [She snaps at him without thinking. Because it's not okay. It's not okay he's looking at her like some innocent person who really might have no part in this. She turns away from the feed, hands tightening to fists at her sides.]

[he winces at her outburst, and then he - abruptly steps away from Charles and moves to where it's private, and after a bit of fumbling, switches the feed over to private as well. Something he should have done when they first started getting into this, but better later than never.

He closes his eyes and takes a few, deep breaths - calm, calm, he has to stay calm - before he forces himself to look at her again]

Then what do you want me to say?

[She thinks about just ending the feed a few dozen times as he gets himself situated, but she doesn't. She isn't going to run from...whatever this is.] I don't know.

I want you to be the monster or someone completely different named Bob or Tex or Emery or something. [But not this. Not someone people she has some reason to care about vouch for.]

You could call me Henry. Or - Static. [he shrugs a shoulder, but he offers over the alternatives almost immediately]

Look . . . [he takes a deep breath] If you want to hate me because of - who I am in your world, I wouldn't blame you for it at all, or hold it against you. But I'm not . . . that man, either. Charles - he wouldn't let me become something like that. Especially not after everything we've been through back home and . . . elsewhere.

Static? [Richie's friend? She's spent too much time in multi-verse traps.]

Well, you got me there. No Charles in my world. [She doesn't really want to hate anyone, but there are a few names that are particularly bad and he made the short list. Congratulations on not being Apocalypse at least?]

Mmm. [he shrugs again] It was a nickname I used for a while, before I remembered my real one. But that's . . . a story for another time. If you want it.

[well, no wonder everything goes to shit. He closes his eyes, sighing out] That might explain it, then. Or it might not.

Like Blade. [She knows this story.]

I'm going with not since I grew up without him and I don't torture innocent people. [She was an assassin in her early teens though.]

Right, like - Blade. [he stutters a little over the nickname, having not had to use it in a while]

Mm, well . . . [he winces a little at her wording] To - touch on something else you said, the only experiments I've ever ran were on myself. And I paid the price for that. [he glances off screen for a moment, his tone a touch guilty, before he glances back] And that was years ago.

[It's okay. She calls him Erik. She just knows he's gone by that name and why.]

What kind of price? [You know sounding guilty is only going to make her more suspicious under the circumstances.]

[he purses his lips, then decides to just be blunt with it]

How do you think I got blue and furry?

[he rubs the back of his neck, fidgety] My mutation has always been physical, but it was just - my feet. I tried to suppress it, so I'd look . . . so I wouldn't stand out, and instead it enhanced the cells. [a vague gesture] And that's what happened. Instead of normal, like I wanted, I got that instead.

You're not blue or furry at the moment.

But you wanted to pass for human and it backfired. [She's never had that problem, but she has wanted to not be a mutant. Not for a long time, but when she first realized what was happening she was terrified of it.]

At the moment, mm. [there's a pause, while he checks his pockets, and a brief frown before his attention is back on the screen]

But - yeah, it backfired. [a brief, wry twist to his lips] The only reason I look like this is because I found a way to suppress it, but it isn't permanent. I'll be blue and furry again in a matter of hours.

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