ArchivedLogs:There And Back Again

There And Back Again
Dramatis Personae Peter, Logan	2013-04-04 Shortly after the following events, a mysterious sign that reads 'BAG-END' is hung anonymously on Logan's door.
Location <XS> Danger Room
The room is large and circular, a geodesic hemisphere of hexagonal ceramic panels. It is the Danger Room, and is thus often full of danger, but is presently not in use and is thus remarkably danger-free. Safest room in the school, probably. Swamp. Murky. Grey. Stinky. Middle of the night -- half-moon. With two stragglers wandering through the brambles, winding their way toward a lonely two story cottage propped up against the side of a tree. Inside the cottage, one light gleams. Peter is besides Logan, frowning very /tensely/. This is serious-times. The boy is dressed for business; black hoodie, black dress-slacks, his wristwatches/webshooters -- and his black ski-mask with yellow bug-eyed goggles. It makes keeping track of him hard -- at times, the only thing you can see are those goofy yellow-tinted 'eyes' of his, /gleaming/ in the moon-light like two demented ovals. This is, apparently, a very 'special' module. It's called the 'Situational Improvisation' module. The theme? You have no frigging clue what the hell it's going to throw at you. All you know is: It will seize hold of randomly selected assets from other modules that conform to the necessary difficulty and safety parameters. Sometimes, it's vampires. Sometimes, it's zombies. Sometimes, it's ZOMPIRES. And sometimes, it's just guys with shotguns. "This is the last time I let a student pick the simulation," Logan mutters under his breath. The man is all senses, all don't mess with me - I'm having a bad day, and he has no problem letting it show. He has a new X-uniform on (since his last one was torn to shreds - in the Danger Room), and stands up to his ankles in muck. "This place stinks. If--" Suddenly, tentacles burst up through the muck - several all at once - and immediately strike at the two combatants as if each tentacle had a mind of its own. Three of them make for Peter, whilst another four go for Logan. There's no telling what sort of creature to which they belong - and frankly, who cares? One tentacle flicks globules of ooze across the air - sending several splats worth in Peter's direction, as well as Wolverine's. SNIKT! "I just got this..." Logan growls. An instant before the tentacles burst out of the ground, there is a THWP. And then Peter is /airborne/, flinging himself out of the reach of the tentacles -- /and/ their globules -- and up toward the nearest tree. Hiding in trees seems to be something of a theme for Peter! But an instant later, and there is a second series of THWPs -- two silver-gray strands speeding out to attempt and seize hold of two of the tentacles nearest to Wolverine -- and to promptly *YOINK* them upward, as if to draw them out by the roots. Peter's back is to the trunk, sneakers firmly rooted to a branch, putting his back into it -- attempting to draw the tentacles up high and taut, leaving them vulnerable to Logan's claws. "Oh, God," he says somewhere above Logan. "This /stinks/ what the heck is this is this Yog-Sothoth or something?!" "You picked the randomiser, Webs," Logan retorts from a nearby branch. Further away from the tentacles, a pool of fetid water ripples, then stirs, then bubbles as a creature of some kind rises up out of the muck, opening a massive toothy maw. The smell is terrible. Logan, fighting the urge to heave up his guts, leaps out of the tree with both claws slashing. Before he hits the mud, two tentacles lie writhing beside him. He whirls about, ducking one, then another, and responds with two more slashes. More snaky appendages drop into the muck. The creature - perhaps a kraken? - tries to pull itself out of the water and toward the ever-dodging, ever-slashing Wolverine. That's when a chittering, skittering sound can be heard in the tree-branches above, and lines of web can be seen as they are woven between branches. In the shadows above and around Peter, many bulbous eyes glint in the swamp-light - along with dripping fangs and hairy legs. Logan sniffs and glances up. "Relatives of yours?" he asks as he cuts through another tentacle that grips his leg. "Yeah but I mean I thought -- I was not expecting -- this is MONSTER MANUAL stuff--" and then Peter hears the chittering, sees the red, gleaming eyes, and-- "Oh /God/ we are in /MIRKWOOD/." And then he's gone, FLINGING himself out of the tree, his arms thrown out to either side as a series of web-balls are fired, one right after the other. THWP-THWP-THWP-THWP -- aiming for anything and everything that has fangs and skitters along webs. "Ohman why is Ivan not here /he/ controls bugs," Peter babbles as he hits ground -- soft and wet -- then rolls, up to his feet -- firing more web-balls toward the upper branches, trying to /glue/ the spiders to the treebark. "We're in WHAT-WOOD???" Logan demands incredulously - only to have not one, but TWO tentacles coil themselves around his feet and pull him up into the air. And there one finds the Wolverine, dangling upside down and being tossed about like a ragdoll. The creature that has him heaves itself up onto a mud-sloshed bank by the pool and opens its maw in anticipation of its 'flesh a la adamantium' morsel. "Someone get this thing a breath-mint," Logan mutters - and instantly severs a tentacle that writhes just a little too close to him. The creature responds by flinging the man further around (perhaps in an attempt to make him drop his 'knives'?), but to no avail. Logan finds himself bashed against a tree-branch, and scythes through several strands of web, upon which two giant spiders were running - toward Peter. "Eeee! Eeee!" the spiders squeal in pain and dismay. "Eeet's got a web! Aiee! Stop it! Bite it! Kill it! Eeeeeeaaat it!--" Peter's web-balls knock several of the creatures into the mud, their legs curling upwards and jerking spasmodically in death. Logan manages to grip one strand of web, and hold one while the kraken tries to pull him back. "Grrr! Pete... give it a mouthful... would ya?" "Mirkwood -- it's -- the Hobbit -- evil woods -- and -- you don't -- read much -- do you -- STINKY." It isn't clear whether 'STINKY' refers to Logan or the horrible stench that swells up from the gullet of that beast. Either way -- each dash represents yet another THWP toward the spiders as Peter charges /toward/ the direction of that horrible tentacle beast, eyebrows crumpled together, wrists extended. And then-- THWPTHWP -- two strands, each toward a tree on either side of the tentacle beast's rearing, ugly mug. Peter /yanks/ again, slingshotting himself like a pinball, sailing into the air -- hopefully well /over/ the tentacle beast. And then -- THWP THWP -- two more tendrils for its back, attempting to pull himself on top of the thing. At which point Peter tries the new setting on his wristwatches: SPRAY. It's kind of like one of those cheap faux spiderwebs you buy for halloween; swelling sheets of sticky, fibruous, transparent 'spidersilk' that spray out from his wrists -- incredibly short-ranged, but sticking to everything they touch and coating it in a greyish, stretchy film. He's working on whatever qualifies as its upper back and head -- and soon scuttling across it on all fours -- with extraordinary speed! -- to try and dart over its mouth -- to seal it up with that same film. And just keep crawling and coccooning, like some mad spider atop of its much larger prey. SCUTTLE, SCUTTLE, SPRAY. Logan attempts coherent speech again, but only seems to manage another growl - a much louder growl, but still just a growl. As soon as Peter succeeds in giving the swamp-kraken a mouthful of web (quite different from the mouthful the creature was expecting to get), it releases its hold on Logan, who springs forward from the spider-web like a stone from a slingshot. A stone with claws. The swamp turns into a panic-scene after that. The kraken's tentacles suddenly hit overdrive as the creature struggles (in vain) to remove the webbing from its throat. It does have enough presence of mind (apparently it HAS a mind!) to attack Peter with a vengeance, despite its obviously weakening state... Every motion sends it back into the water, and the creature makes choking sounds. The remaining spiders, on the other hand, get to meet the Wolverine (a FLYING Wolverine), who slices legs, fangs and eyes off enough of them that those left... scatter. Squealing. "Theees one has a sting! A sting!" "What eees eeet?" "Who cares? Fleeee....!!" Logan lands somewhere in the mud, beyond the shadows. One can hear the swearing. "What--" Logan coughs. "What the fuck's a hobbit???" Trying to catch Peter when he is on the move is like trying to catch lightning -- the boy's /everywhere/ at once. When the kraken bucks, Peter's hands /cling/ -- somehow 'sticking' to that slick, watery flesh. And when the kraken thrashes with tentacles at him, Peter /scuttles/, looping the ever-expanding veil about to /snatch/ the tentacle into it and /glue/ it to the kraken's own rapidly expanding coccoon. Unless the poor thing catches on quick, it's soon going to have the majority of its tentacles writhing and stuck to its head -- and an ever-expanding web swelling out around it. Once it starts to sink, though... THWP -- Peter's web-line hits another high branch as he /swings/ the fuck away from the sinking ship. "Hobbits are --" he begins, /shouting/ with panic over the chaos, the buzzing trill of the terrified spiders as they flee. But as he lands and rolls over soil -- somewhere near Wolverine -- a sort of strange serenity seems to overcome him: "Hobbits are the most fearless, ferocious, /brutal/ warriors of middle-earth. Basically, Professor Logan," Peter explains with an unusual degree of calm and patience: "/You/ are a hobbit. Sir." shadow appears in between the gnarled and twisted trees of the foreboding forest. Strands of spider-web hang between boughs and trunks like draping curtains, and the moonlight (scarcely visible through the thick, unwholesome foliage above) glints off adamantium claws as the Wolverine steps into view. He looks pissed. One step after another through the musty undergrowth, he finally comes to a halt near Peter, his chest heaving and his arms stained with what looks like greenish ichor. He looks over at the younger man and sniffs disdainfully. "Hobbits," he says in a laconical grunt. "Warriors, huh? Fearless, ferocious, brutal warriors of Muddle-Earth?" Taking a moment to survey the forest-swamp scene, he shakes his head. "What's that make you? A pixie? An elf?" He snorts again. "I'll stick with Wolverine... Computer: End sim. Log training session and save to password: web-elf, for further review." He looks at Peter again. "Nice work there, Elf." "Yessir," is Peter's only response. Ramrod straight as the simulation ends and Logan looms above him, dripping with /ichor/. He does not so much as flinch! Nary a sign of mischief in sight. Nope! Not even a /snicker/. And then, as Logan turns toward the exit -- Peter says, /just/ on the threshold of what is audible: "Thank you, Professor Baggins, sir."