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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.

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[his eyes narrow a little; unfortunately, this Hank McCoy comes with a little bit of brattiness]

I wouldn't know. But surely you're capable of going five minutes without trying to insult me in some way. Especially considering I'm not the Hank McCoy you're familiar with.

[And this Mystique had a tendency to not care what damage she did to others, provided it aided her mission.]

The Hank McCoy and X-Men from my world serve only the purpose to distract Erik and his teams. They may contribute some benefit to mutantkind, but it's small minded and over all ineffective. [It was said as if it was a matter of fact, no room for argument either way.]

From your world. [he repeats it, firmly, emphasizing the difference]

It isn't my place to say what Raven's doing back home, so you'll excuse me if I don't use your own tactic against you. But there's none of that for us - it's just me and Charles, trying to get his school open again. [he shrugs] It's only 1973, if that helps put a bigger emphasis on the differences.

[Ignoring the little gripe he attempted to make, Mystique instead raised a brow at the date given.] '73? Interesting, and explains a lot. [Especially his appearance. Then again, she was getting use to the idea of how many differences there were between these different universes.]

I would hope so. [he really hopes that saying as much will relieve some of the tension going on. Even just a little would help] Am I older? The uh - Hank you know.

[There was another obvious flicked of her vision over his face and form, as much as the camera allowed at least.] Yes, he is. He is also permanently stuck in his... other form. He was previously a teacher at the local high school before his mutation became obvious, then moved onto Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, primarily training the younger group of children, not the X-Men. [After all, she knew it well, having spent much time hidden in plain sight both in the mansion and at the high school.]

[Hank can't help but look a little surprised. That's . . . very different from how his life had gone so far. He hadn't even given teaching a second thought until Charles. But more importantly - ]

He didn't - uh. He didn't enhance his own mutation?

I wasn't around in his earlier years so I do not know how his mutation developed to the stage it did, yet from what I understand he was keeping it in place thanks to a chemical concoction he had created, which is what I assume you are doing.

When I arrived in Bayville he was... 'normal', [It wasn't said as anger or disgust this time, more boredom, something to dismiss than linger on.] And in his role of science teacher at the school.

That's . . . interesting. [he trails off, thinking over it for a moment - then he clears his throat and faintly shakes his head]

But - mm, that's more or less what I'm doing. Or was doing, I don't have any of it with me at the moment. [he shrugs a shoulder, not . . . overly concerned. But still somewhat] My mutation didn't - uh, develop into that. I sort of did it to myself by accident.

[Mystique's face crossed into something resembling disgust,] You tried to 'cure' yourself, didn't you? [Yet if this Hank had known her better, like one of those few that were close to her, he would had seen a hint of sadness around her eyes. That he had to chose that path, that any mutant had to think that way.]

[he immediately shakes his head; he doesn't flinch under her look, at least. This is a subject he's used to arguing, with Erik mostly]

No. I tried to make myself look normal while trying to keep the abilities my mutation gives me. [because being a mutant in general was never an issue; it was always how his mutation was physical. He'll just leave out the part where Raven had almost joined him, how she changed her mind and he said the stupidest thing in his life] Instead, what I made enhanced the cells.

[For a brief moment Mystique's brain went to a place normally forced herself not to go, to be able to think of her past and the 'what if' she had the chance when her mutation first showed, before she could shift form and hide it. A younger her would had taken it in an instant, anything to fix what was 'wrong' with her.

Now, she was glad she never had that chance.] You may come to find you are happy that it didn't work. Just because you are not comfortable with yourself now does not mean you will not be in the future.

[ah. It's such a familiar sentiment, from a familiar face. Hank finds himself smiling before he can really stop himself, albeit a bit somber and bittersweet]

One day, maybe. I hope so. [it's an honest admission; he'd give anything to feel comfortable in his own skin. He lets out a huff of laughter] The - Mystique I know, Raven - when it first happened, the first thing she told me was that was who I was meant to be.

She sounds... [Was there a polite way to put this?] Young. [Too young, too naive, and too easy to think back to her own past and how lost she had been.]

[the smile turns wry, and he shrugs a shoulder]

Not as young as you think. [he gets what she means] After all, of the two of us, she's the one who accepted herself. I'm the one who—[screwed up, told her the wrong thing and took eleven years to fix it, and even then—] well. I'm just starting to do that.

[If that Mystique was anything like herself then her mutation showed itself young, as with many mutants who got hit hard in their teens. Yet the frustration came that for her it had only been the coloration, her powers took many more years before they had kicked in, before she was able to shift and hide away. Even more years to accept who she was and why she was this way. She had done it alone, but she had gotten there.]

The path means little once you reach that point. You'll see that once you reach it. [And if he was anything like the Beast from her world, he would.]

I hope I do. [he says it a little quietly, but it's earnest. He doesn't really have a choice here, but - maybe that's what he needs. To be forced to see that it isn't as bad as he's been building it up over the years. Kyriakos was the start of that. He could only hope that this place would continue it]

Maybe - after I get used to - er, things, we could speak again? Maybe in person?

[That was something she hadn't expected, and it took Mystique several long moments before she was able to come up with an answer.] I... suppose so. [Trying to make her voice sound more disinterested than confused or surprised.]

[he wasn't expecting her to say yes, either, and the expression on his face gives as much away. Albeit briefly, but he quickly forces his expression into something more neutral]

I - okay. I'll - contact you?

Sure. [There was no hesitation this time, more the reverse, it said quickly, almost spat out as if to get it over and done with quickly. This had not been in her plans when she first contacted him, then again she hadn't had a plan bar possibly antagonizing Hank and Charles.

If there was something else that needed to be said, Mystique wasn't ready for it. This entire thing had turned out very... bizarre. So she cut the connection, letting her side of the communication go dead.]

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