ArchivedLogs:Preemptive

Preemptive
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Jax, Xavier	2015-07-19 "That is a bold move." (Part of Future Past TP)
Location <XS> Administrative Offices - B1
This hallway is smaller than the main, the offices branching off of it modest and unassuming. Down here it is all business, teachers meeting for conferences or simply coming down to grade papers and get work done. There's not much to this conference room. Oak table. Chairs. Currently a pitcher of water leaking condensation onto its coaster set in the center. Flicker's poured himself a glass, though he isn't drinking it -- thank /goodness/ the AC in here works well. Outside the world may be melting. In here he looks rigid, fidgety, stiff and upright on the edge of his seat, one foot bobbing incessantly and fingers drumming at the side of his glass. Mind racing. Mostly thinking of the kids he still knows at the school. The glowing of robotic eyes. The screeching coming from a mouth full of metal teeth. Taptaptap. Taptaptap. The drum of his fingers is erratic and quick, matching the unsteady pace of his racing thoughts. Charles Xavier enters in presence as well as in person, at first nudging that fidgety brain to notice him, then the door swings open on a mechanical arm to allow the professor's admittance. He rolls in quietly, skirting around the table until he finds his spot - the one without a chair in the way. He pulls himself in to the lip of the table and straightens his pin striped charcoal gray suit. He takes a moment to press thoughts against a couple other minds, ones outside of the room, before turning his attention to those inside. "Good afternoon, Flicker. I trust you are well?" Jax scurries inside before the door has fully closed, slipping in and taking a seat across the table from Flicker. He pulls his legs up to tuck, kneeling, underneath him, setting a thermos down on the table in front of him. His bright bird-of-paradise hued hair has been spiked and gelled to resemble the flower in shape and not just colour, and his bright yellow tank top and bright purple and blue skirt are adding still more colour to him. There's a soft glow to his tattoos, which are not -- remaining very /still/, flitting here and there across his skin. /His/ mind, in contrast, is -- well, it's probably racing, too, really. Not so much well defined as just a nebulous headachey-bright array of colours jostling up against each other /underneath/ which his actual thoughts dart hummingbird-like from one to the next to the next. He doesn't say anything. Just glances from Flicker to the Professor, then down to his thermos. Flicker starts to stand up when Xavier enters, then sits back down with a blush. "Sir." His head dips in a nod. "I'm -- maybe. Been --" The very brief hesitance that comes here carries a whole tumbling flash of uncertainty. Hive in bed and catatonic again. His rejection from Columbia and decision to forgo med school entirely this year for the sake of not leaving him for one of the farther universities that /did/ accept him. His continuing stressful inability to get his more functional prosthesis to /work/ after his surgery. The potential of having to go back on the Prometheus hunt, go back into the labs. Looming over it all, of course, these dreams of the future and what they might mean for the present. It's only a split second, though, eyes dipping down to the table and then back up to the Professor with a crooked twitch of smile. "-- Busy," he sums up, lightly. "How are you?" Xavier takes a deep breath and smiles, milling through all the images he received from Flicker's burst of busyness and Jax's constant state, a small wrinkle digging deep between his eyes. "I can see that. I am well. Thank you for asking. How about we get down to business and talk about what you want to -- well, to be honest, I'm not sure what the specific point you wanted to address was. You have been quite busy." Jax sinks just a little lower in his chair before straightening up again. He pulls in a deep breath and uncaps his thermos, tipping it towards himself for a very small sip. << The future, >> surfaces kind of dismally in his mind before subsiding again. He glances back to Flicker, but stays quiet. His fingers curl tight around the thermos, the tattoos racing faster across his skin. Flicker settles down, in contrast. Externally, at least. The fidgeting stops. The bouncing of his leg stops. The taptaptap of fingers against glass stops. The racing in his mind -- not so much. But he breathes deep and nods once, voice calm, at least, when he speaks. "It's the dreams, Professor -- I'm sure you were well aware of them. And the trip we took, and the knowledge we brought back, and the lengths --" Again Hive's glassy-eyed face surfaces in his mind, together with a sharp pained pang that he shoves back down -- "-- that we had to go to to find out that information. But -- essentially we learned that there's going to be an attack on the school. Ordered by someone in the government under the premise that we're training mutant terrorists. And that the Sentinels will kill Jax during the attack and the resulting detonation will trigger -- the whole dystopian mess that we. Certainly don't want." His hand tips upward. "I wanted to talk about heading that off." "Excellent. Let us talk about that." Charles leans back in his seat, bringing his fingers together as he looks between the two men at his table, lingering perhaps a little longer on Jax. << A possible future. One we will work to avoid. >> He draws in another breath and turns his attention back to Flicker. "Why don't you tell me what your plan is? Despite what you have shown and told me, I feel that you may still have a better grip on what happened and what will happen and what needs to change." Jax's eye stays fixded on the table, but he nods, slowly. "Right. Possible future. It's just -- just." << ... even if. >> His mind finishes the thought, in concept even if not words: Even if not /that/ attack -- that potential is still always in him. Maybe not the Sentinels, but /something/. Maybe not /that/ future, but he'll /always/ be that dangerous -- He draws in a breath. Right. Heading off /that/ future, right now. "If you got a plan --" It's not really hope, in his voice. But determination, maybe. Resolution. He untucks his legs, sliding them down to the floor to pull his seat closer to the table and sit more firmly upright. "'Plan' might be a generous word. I have an idea. But it'd be a big step and it would affect -- all of us. And the students here most of all." Flicker picks up his glass. Swallows down a gulp of cold water. Sets the glass back down. "In the future. The attack on the school -- it was ordered because they said we were a training camp. The war that happened after the explosion, it was blamed on mutant terrorists for the same reason. But they can't tell all those lies if people already know what we are. We're /not/ doing anything shady here. We're giving children an opportunity to have the same education that all children are /supposed/ to have the right to. Opportunity mutant kids don't always get. Opportunity that might not be safe or accessible to them other places. If we went public. If we came out about who we are and what we do. Ordering an attack on a bunch of children -- I don't think that would be nearly so possible." << We will work on getting your powers under control. We will find a manner than works. We have time to work on this. Ororo's powers are catastrophic as well, but we have never given up on her and she is flourishing. Please, look to her as an example. >> Xavier's mindvoice is soft yet rough, like old leather, beaten but still holding together. He impresses upon the young man confidence that now that they know what is coming, they can work on it. That confidence dissipates when Flicker distracts him with his 'plan.' Gray eyes study the young man speaking carefully, listening and observing without speaking. He stiffens up straight in his seat, thin lips pressed together as he hands rest on the surface of the table, one over the other. "That is a bold move." He speaks quietly at first, continuing to weigh the options. "And you support this?" He looks again to Jax. Jax closes his eye, nods slowly. The swirling flash of chaotic colour in his mind starts to calm; the rapid flit of his tattoos settles down, too. His teeth scrape against his lower lip, wiggling at his lip ring. "I think it'd be a lot of upheaval," he says, quietly. "But I think Flicker's -- right. I think -- mutant or no -- ain't no way they're gonna jus' start open-huntin' a bunch of mutant kids. I do think they'll come after us other ways. Bureaucracy. Try an' shut us down. We'll hafta be prepared for /that/. Legally. But jus' rollin' in to kill us? Ain't likely." "It's bold," Flicker agrees. Quiet. But calm. "But --" He rests one hand atop the mechanical one. "Safer. I think. And not just safer." His bright green eyes meet the Professor's grey ones. "I think it's better. For what we do. For the kids we're serving. There are so many kids out there who need this place. And don't know, won't ever know, we exist. And we definitely -- don't have the /capacity/ to serve them all, but even being open that we /do/ exist, other people in other places, they can come talk to us about how to set /up/ other schools like this -- as long as we're hiding, there's a lot of people who just won't ever know where to find help." The professor nods slowly as he considers the input from the two younger men that he works closely with. "It's a gamble. We will be drawing attention, most specifically from those who wish to register us and keep us boxed away and out of sight. Telling the world we exist could also draw them to our gates immediately. Yes, we could be getting ahead of this, but we would also be starting the issue early. The United States government has not always done well by children in what they view as countercultural groups -- to be crass, think of Waco, Texas." He draws in a deep breath and forces himself back, still open to the discussion, none of the usual indications that he is finished are surfacing. "We would be startin' it early, but on our terms. You know we can't stay in hidin' forever. I think we done always knowed that. Especially with registration now -- they're gonna be lookin' sooner or later into why so many'a us come from here. And it'll be better to do it in the way /we/ choose, I think." Jax's teeth are still clicking on his lip ring. "And Flicker's right. Hiding's -- protected us. But it's also limited us. So much." "Starting the issue early on our terms." Flicker nods when Jax speaks. "I /don't/ think it'll be easy. I think it'll bring a whole /storm/ of scrutiny on us. But the Clinic's had storms, too -- and we're weathering them. It means security -- but we have that. It means being careful -- but we /are/ that. At the least I think we should talk to the rest of the team and the faculty about the possibility. Options." << ... options that don't, >> his mind is finishing grimly, << end with Jax dead. >> "It all makes a lot of sense and is definitely something we knew we were going to have to do eventually. It is merely something I have been putting off for as long as I can." The last remnants of an idealistic young man flash in the old professor's eyes, leaving him briefly energized, and afterward resolved. "We will have to come up with a plan, get all of our minds working on how best to handle each step and all of the repercussions of each step there may be. It may also leave us flooded with students we cannot house and that is a curse of its own." He pauses to consider and glances both to Jackson and then to Flicker -- though his gaze is more compassionate when he studies his face. "Very well. We will have to have more meetings and more discussion on this topic in the future." This time the shiver through Jax's mind /is/ more like hope. "A plan." He nods, firmly. "Alright. We'll talk to the rest of the faculty and -- and." He takes a very small sip from his thermos, allows a very small ghost of smile to cross his expression. "... go from there." The brief curl of Flicker's lips lasts longer -- if only a few moments. "Go from there." He inhales deep, rising to his feet. "Handle each step one at a time. Like we always do. Thank you, Professor." "I should thank you. This is going to be a lot of work and possibly more problems that we initially think." Xavier sounds tired, leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, I am getting lost in the details. Go on, get to your planning." For a moment Jax's lips press together, his eye flicking to the Professor with a wash of concern flashing through his mind at the tired tone in the older man's voice. He unfolds himself from his chair, starting towards the door -- though detouring past Xavier's chair on the way out. Mostly just to lean down and curl one arm around the Professor's shoulders in a quick hug. "Thank you," he says, as well, before slipping out of the room. This time, Flicker's smile is warmer. He just dips his head in a nod, though. When he follows Jax out it's in a quick blink. Blip-blip -- gone.