ArchivedLogs:The Most Dangerous Topping
| The Most Dangerous Topping | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-04-09 ...is MUTANT! |
| Location
<XS> Danger Room | |
The Danger Room. Welcome. For the moment, the room is... more or less empty, apart from the couple of students within. The walls, all gleaming silver, rise high on all sides - effecting a dome of reflective metal all around. Even the door blends in with the infrastructure, but for a pale glowing blue outline around it. High on the eastern side, a long rectangular window curves around with the wall, allowing those on the outside to look down at whomever is in the Room at the time. The window of course leads to the control room, where Logan stands - leaning over various computer consoles whilst a variety of holographic images cycle before his eyes (from a projector on the desk). "OK, kids," he says over the intercom, his voice vaguely distorted. "I've almost got it all set, up here. I'm gonna toss a regular city-scene at ya - somethin' you'd probably get right here in New York, got it? The computer'll add in... uhh, situations for ya to deal with." He pauses and gestures at a holo-image of a street corner in what could be Harlem (grafitti on the walls, a corner store nearby, alleys, roads... the usual). The image fades and Logan glances back down into the room. "Remember, you've got more than your powers to deal with things. Be smart - this ain't gonna be easy. Questions?" Rogue smirks at the general direction of where she knows Logan to be, even as she flips the end of her french braid over her shoulder. She rolls her neck side to side, loosening muscle and tendons as she walks along the 'street' Logan has set up for them. Auburn and white tidy in the braid, in regular clothes, including some black gloves. She carefully undoes the tiny buttons on the inside of her left wrist, so she can bare a hand if need be, without making it obvious she's taking the whole glove off. Maybe Rogue's first question should have been what the hell /Peter/ is doing wearing a mask. Because, uh. He is. A red hoodie, blue jeans, unusual 'two-toed' socks (Japanese Tabi, actually; Dr. McCoy's suggestion), a nylon black back-sack-pack, and... a red ski-mask with yellow, bug-eyed goggles. Also, weird looking wrist-watches attached to either of his wrists; big and clunky ones. "Something we'd get in New York?" Peter asks, and then: "So, like - wait what do we usually get in New York? I don't usually get /anything/ in New York. Except pizza. Are we going to be dealing with pizza? Because I could deal with pizza." This might be a little silly if Peter was just trying to be funny. But nothing in his tone seems to indicate he is making a stab at humor. He sounds serious. And, in fact, he looks as if he's bracing himself. For PIZZA. Rogue is used to a lot of things, without asking unless she has to. After all, she was sort of a foundling of a man with knives in his hands, right? There's an arch of a brow at Peter. "What, are you a teenage mutant ninja turtle, or something? Who was red again...Raphael? " She sounds amused, her voice almost a lazy drawl, but there's an awareness in the way her shoulders sit, the way her eyes keep moving. "We're mutants, sugar. We could get into trouble anywhere, anytime." Logan makes a quick, last second adjustment to the settings and then steps back from the console. "Commence simulation Take-Out... the Trash on my mark... Mark." Rogue gets a grin from him, whether she can see it or not, and suddenly the Danger Room turns into... "...C'mon! Get it while it's hot! Who ordered the double-pepperoni with extra chili and jalapenos?! Yer order's up!" Rogue and Pete find themselves standing just outside a pizzeria - on a street in Harlem somewhere - surrounded by all sorts of people. The sidewalk is littered with... well, litter, and there are a few cars parked on the side of the road. The Pizza shop is PACKED, and most of the tables outside are already taken. The masculine voice doing all the yelling, suddenly takes on a more menacing tone: "'Ey! You didn't say nuttin' about bein' no stinkin' Mutie, kid. Beat it! I gotta 'nough troubles without your kind givin' me anymore. Now, SCRAM." Somewhere near the counter, there is a teenaged boy (probably no older than 15), wearing trackpants, sneakers and a hoodie (and carrying an ipod that appears to be playing some Eminem. He also appears to have stone-grey skin, over-long arms and legs, and jet black hair. He is holding out cash to pay for his pizza, whilst the owner points imperiously at the door. People are already starting to move (some to get out of the way, some to tell the kid to clear off - and a few to protest). That's when there's a loud noise (sounding like a whip-crack) followed by several screams. "Raphael is red, yeah - but I'm not a turtle I'm a /spider/," Peter complains, and this has a certain mewling petulance to it, like it's something he's often repeating to everyone around him. "Do I need to like paint a giant spider on my chest or something? Maybe that's why Batman's got the whole Bat thing on /his/ chest, so people stop thinking he's gargoyle m--" Oh. Pizzeria. /That/ gets Peter to stop talking; the shift in scenery throws him back a moment - head jerking this way and that as he just /absorbs/ this wealth of new information. But then there's the loud voice shouting 'Mutie', and Peter's head snaps back to the counter - and then... whip-crack? And then, Peter's voice, to Rogue - a little softer, but in a rush: "...um, so, I'm pretty strong and fast and notice things plus I shoot webs - what do you do? Because I have no idea, and -" And something's about to happen? Something's about to happen. Logan, for the moment, is silent. The crowd of people within and without the pizzeria, however, are NOT. The teenager doesn't seem to notice Rogue - given that his eyes are full of tears... and venom. His physique, however, is something else entirely... The boy's greyish skin looks like hundreds of wires all banded together and his arms (in fact, all of his limbs) move more like cable than flesh and bone. His fingers have elongated into long, thin strands of a metallic substance and he flicks them around menacingly. With one flick of his right hand, he makes another whip-cracking sound, just like the first... and people flee. The owner drops the money tossed at him, as his attention is on the blood staining his shirt and apron - from four bleeding welts that look like lashes from a cat-o'-nine-tails. "Blasted... FREAK!" he snarls at the kid, and tries to flee. Rogue finds herself in serious danger of getting similarly lashed as the wiry (in more ways than one) youth starts slashing with his arms and fingers at EVERYONE. He is almost like human whipper-snipper. Outside, Peter finds a crowd of terrified patrons stampeding toward him. And in the midst of all of this, some patrons have taken it upon themselves to attack the mutant in question (picking up chairs and the like and moving as though to throw them). "We'll do the how-ya-do portions later." Rogue says in a rush to Peter, before she's ducking. "Hey, hey!" She says to the lashing out whip/tentacle/armed mutant. She tries to get up in his face, her securely gloved hand trying to find a safe place to rest. "Stop.. this isn't worth it. He isn't worth it. There's a lot of people not worth it. But do you want... do you want to hurt the people who might accept you as you are?" Her left hand is slowly working out of satin, and there's a bare-fingered salute to Peter, hoping he understands to try and get other people out of the way. Peter doesn't say anything. When people start screaming - when whiplashing strokes of cable-like sinew start whipping out and /lashing/ at people - he gets really quiet. And really subdued. And when people reach for chairs and start approaching the mutant... There's a sudden series of THWP THWP THWP THWPs from behind Rogue - strands of silver lashing out, seeking to connect with whatever makeshift weapons the bystanders have seized hold of - and suddenly /pulling/. With an extraordinary burst of strength - aiming to wrest chairs, tables, and weaponry out of hands - to yank them back toward the exit. And as he does - Peter is yelling above the din and confusion, his voice a bit squeaky, but still unmistakeably loud: "EVERYONE RUN! NOW!" The boy ducks away, and slashes his hands at a patron holding a chair up. The chair falls to pieces, sliced a few times over, causing the patron to fall backward onto his rump. The boy then glares at Rogue, and shakes his head. "You're all the same!" he shouts in pure rage at her. Tears roll down his face, which has the expression of one who has had enough (had MORE than enough) and well and truly given up. He puts his left hand forward to try and shove Rogue backwards, while raising his right hand (strands of wire writhing like serpents) warningly. That's when one of the 'helpful' patrons tosses an aluminum chair at both the boy and Rogue. "MORE OF THEM!!" someone yells (well, shrieks) - it is a woman, pointing at Peter. "There's more of them! Eeee! Run for your lives! Filthy... mutants!!" The woman doesn't seem to notice - or care - that Peter's webs seem to be preventing more violence (or trying to). Aside from the one chair that a man managed to hurl at Rogue and the boy (we'll call him... whatever name Pete can think up!), several other chairs answer the pull of the Webmeister and sail over people's heads-- --straight at Pete. Two fleeing patrons, however, are struck in the back of the knees by a pulled chair, and tumble to the sidewalk. "Call the cops! Someone call the cops!" another female voice cries out (someone who can think, apparently - compared to some of the other patrons). End result (for now): the pizzeria is less packed. There are chairs everywhere. The owner is bleeding from abdominal injuries (cowering behind the counter). Rogue is very close to a kid who is... a living whip, so to speak. People are still running out, and potentially into Peter... Oh, and one fleeing fellow turns around with a broken brick to toss at Peter as a parting gift... And Logan... says nothing. There's a sound much like one might hear Logan make when he is losing his limited patience, darting forward to try and jerk the kid out of the trajectory of the aluminum chair, even at risk to herself. Dark eyes are snapping with temper, and there is color in her cheeks. "How can Ah be the same, when Ah'm a mutant? " She hisses at him, a sigh coming shortly after as she moves to lay bared palm along his cheek. "Run, if you can, sugar. Don't need the cops pokin' at your toys!" She calls out to Peter, even as she keeps her eyes locked on Whipcord here. "EVERYONE OUT!" Peter just keeps hollering this at the top of his lungs. His squeaky, teenage lungs. He's tiny, he's in a goofy mask, and he /sounds/ like a 15 year old (probably because he is). But he's also striding forward -- the chairs he's pulled toward himself are batted aside with his forearms, just a *CLNK* *CLNK*, like his wrists were /shields/ - the impact doesn't even slow him down. And when someone throws a brick at the back of his head - ...danger sense tingles. Peter twists - reacts - by twisting around to bring his arm about to impact said brick. Swatting chairs aside is one thing - but a brick? Erm. *THWUNK* - it's not a good sound, and it's followed by Peter clutching at his forearm, grimacing beneath the mask. But then - almost immediately - he's up in the air, still /shouting/ - "OUT! OUT! OUT!" - as he /clears/ the distance between him and the counter, hopping behind it - moving to drop next to the man with abdominal injuries. Checking to see just how bad they are. "Don't move, I'll get you out of here - Rogue, police coming," Peter's voice is tentative - and genuinely nervous. He might be taking this a little /too/ seriously! He sounds a little confused, actually. "Um. I mean. We should probably -" The brick-thrower finds himself suddenly grabbed from behind and forced down to his knees - by a pair of burly police officers. Two cars pull up, and another four cops spill out and head for the pizzeria. Inside, the scene is... ambiguous. Rogue succeeds in touching Whipcord's face, just as the chair strikes the pair of them and sends them both sprawling. Since the boy is a mere hard-light hologram, there are no powers for Rogue to absorb... and he simply collapses to the ground...and freezes. The cops enter the room, and freeze as well... followed by everything else in the scenario that is not Rogue or Pete. There is even a chair suspended in midair, with webbing wrapped around it. A moment later, a shimmering blue rectangular outline appears in the middle of the air and morphs into a double door that slides open. Logan walks through, hands at his sides, dressed in jeans, boots and a checkered shirt. "OK," he says with a glance at Rogue and Peter. "Talk to me." Rogue has no issue with the not absorbing, getting herself to her feet. "Talk to you about what, sug?" She might be teasing Logan, just a bit. There's a hint of a smile. "Ah should have probably been more clear with Peter about getting out." She glances over at the younger mutant. "Ah know Ah shouldn't have rushed in that way, but.. well, in reality, Ah woulda taken enough, knocked him out, and the cops are none the wiser. Ah'm just a bystander with awesome fashion taste." She's fixing her glove as she speaks. Peter's attention is on the guy behind the counter. Trying to keep him safe, maybe trying to figure out how to move him toward the nearest exit. When the police burst in - there's a mumbled 'ohmanohman' beneath his breath, and he's suddenly /moving/ toward the nearest opposite exit - a hand extending out, apparently intent on webbing /ROGUE/ from behind on his way out. But then, everything freezes. The danger sense /immediately/ stops tingling. And Peter's arm slooooowly lowers - as if he's still thinking about shooting Rogue with one of those weird web-things and /pulling/ her out of here. In response to Logan's question, Peter mumbles - finally dropping his arm completely, bringing it about to rub at his other bruised forearm: "I wanted to make sure the guy behind the counter was okay. Like, he was bleeding." This is offered almost /reluctantly/, like Peter has made some extraordinary mistake. But he soon adds, a little more defensively: "I totally could have gotten away." Logan shrugs in what is probably very irritating nonchalance. "Hey," he says. "I didn't say you did anything wrong." He lifts his chin, looking firstly at Rogue and then at Peter. "I just want you ta talk ta me about what just happened - what ya did, 'n why. You can't spend too much time focusin' on what ya coulda done, but a little bit of thinkin' like that can save your life later on." He gives Pete another nod and peers behind the counter at the frozen pizza shop owner. The man's wounds are deep and would have required stitches, but they are not as deep as they could have been. Logan looks back at the two students, a thoughtful frown on his brow. "Shi--erm, stuff--like this happens a lot, got it? You ain't gonna know what to do, and you'll probably spend nights afterward awake wonderin' if ya did alright. Don't sweat it." He looks upward. "Computer: end sim and save to password 'pepperoni'. Upload to Rogue's and Pete's personal computers for post-sim evaluation." Then he looks at the two students, all 'Prof Wolverine' style. "Ya need a bit more coordination - Rogue, ya got the power to end stuff fast... providing ya don't get killed first. Or kill someone else." He frowns. That comment hurt him to say it. "We'll work on hand-to-hand so if ya get separated from your partner by a crowd - you'll be fine. Good job." He looks a Pete. "You went for the furniture. Good call. Going for the folks... even if they're all morons, woulda been bad. Watch your back tho'. You two did great." There's something in Rogue's face, just a tilt of her head a tiny bit to one side, lips thinning as they press together harder. Someone with good hearing might make out the sound of teeth grinding for a brief moment. "Hand to hand. Got it." Her voice is level, almost too perfectly neutral, almost robotic. "Anything else, before we go do something else?" Peter /might/ take criticism a bit better than Rogue; on the other hand, he seems a little - off? Unsure. Like he isn't quite /clear/ on what just happened. He looks around at his surroundings again, before replying to Logan, absent-mindedly: "I should learn first-aid. Or, maybe, do sims with - like - first aid. Or something. I don't even know if I'm allowed to move somebody like this." He scuffs his foot at the now-frozen pizzeria owner. But then, looking at Rogue: "Wait. What /is/ your power what were you even doing? Like - do you /have/ an offensive power? I mean it's totes fine if you don't one of my friends doesn't have one -" Oh, wow, Pete. That sounds treacherously close to 'SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE BLACK'. "So we got stuff to work on," Logan concludes with a nod of his head. His eyes, however, remain fixed upon Rogue. His gaze is not harsh or anything; it is as if he is summing her up and expressing empathy all at once. "We all do," he adds for ambiguous reasons. He could be referring to his grasp of tact (or lack thereof). "Consider this homework," he remarks after a brief pause. "Both o' you are gonna look up some news reports on stuff like this--" and he jerks a thumb at the room (which is now empty but for them, once again). "--'N then have yourselves a read o' some o' the tactics manuals. Then we'll do some more training sims with me, whenever ya want." He turns his attention toward Peter, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He doesn't say anything though. To Rogue, however, he gives a look that is grim and sorrowful, but not apologetic. His eyes shift toward Pete as if to say: it's your question to answer, regarding her powers - as well as: I'm here for ya. Then he takes a step backward, a hand massaging his jaw. There is a slow arch of an eyebrow that Logan would recognize if he ever looked in the mirror. Rogue's gaze is dark, a bitter amusement forming her expression. "Offensive? You're wearin' goggles and a mask, kid." She turns towards Pete, her tone smooth as silk as she encroaches on his position, slowly tugging off one satiny glove. "Ya ask me, my power is pretty offensive." She reaches for his arm, knowing it to be safely covered by his hoodie. She tips her head, looking at him as her cheeks pale, then flush. "If your arm was bare? Ah'd be killin' you, right now. Ah don't know how slowly. That offensive enough for you?" Her hand slips away as she swallows hard against the lump in her throat. " It ain't enough we got a bunch of people hatin' on us, you gotta play the whole some of us are better than others? " Her chin comes up, turning to meet Logan's eyes as she fights to keep everything in check and her facade in place. "Dismissed, Logan?" Peter headtilts as Rogue closes in; he's got this peculiar way of twisting his head - like one of those 'birds of paradise' that have caught their first sight of a stoat as it hungrily approaches, and busies itself with thinking: 'oh I wonder what that is? does it want to be a friend?'. When she touches his arm, Peter /peers/ at her hand - and, maybe, a little at her - the tint of his yellow goggles reflecting a curved projection of herself. But then - when she mentions that she'd be /killing/ him if his arm was bare - Peter gives a /hop/! And when she mentions about him thinking of certain people as being /better/ - Peter /explodes/ with apologetic chatter: "Oh! Oh ohGod, oh nonono, I'm /so/ sorry that's not what I - no I meant like - like were you going to ninja death-touch him or something - I mean I didn't mean - having punchy powers doesn't make you /better/ - ohGod I'm sorry -" The mask does a good job of hiding it, but Peter's voice doesn't; he is blushing /furiously/ under that costume. "Ya need to know what you're dealin' with, in a combat situation," Logan says in a tone that might suggest: this stuff is 'need to know'; get over it. He then nods and starts walking toward the open door. "Yeah," he calls back over his shoulder toward Rogue, his tone somewhat melancholy - sardonic, even. "Class is dismissed. I'll talk to you guys later; now I need a beer..." Then he is gone. | |
