Logs:Forces

Forces
CN imprisonment, reference to nonconsensual medical experimentation
Dramatis Personae Jax, Lucien
In Absentia Fury, B, Erik	2022-06-06 "Oh, I don't do none of that fancy Magneto-stuff."
Location <NYC> Rooftop - SHIELD Headquarters - Times Square
There's an unexpected oasis at the top of this gleaming high-rise, the whole of it carpeted in thick, soft, layered ground cover of sedums, grass, and moss. A small, carefully manucured grove serves as the centerpiece, with benches, tables and chairs scattered around in the shade. Beside it a professionally landscaped garden boasts a pond and quite a few planters that either used to hold plants or still hold dying ones. The greenhouse is somewhat sparsely and eclectically populated with tropical plants, flanked by garden beds even more sparsely planted. An open lawn on the side overlooking Times Square makes a great spot for a picnic, a little promontory formed by building turf up around three sides of the roof access, toolshed, and single stall bathroom offering a breathtaking view of the city. It's quiet up here, save for the breeze and Jax's soft and tuneless humming. He's settled himself by the garden beds with tools ransacked from the shed -- beside him a tray holds a number of seed packets and potted herb starts both. He is bright as ever, peacocky hair and bright yellow flower-patched shortalls hanging off one shoulder over a green tee printed with pink lettering: NOT GAY AS IN HAPPY, QUEER AS IN FUCK THE POLICE. At some point he had shoes on, but his glittery people Docs have been abandoned at the side of the garden as he works a basil plant out of its container, gently loosening its roots to plant it in the larger bed. Two SHIELD agents from the newly expanded Containment division are lounging at a nearby picnic table, debating the merits of rucking with made-to-purpose weights versus improvised ones. From the little hill that cleverly conceals the access road elevator and stairs come another pair. The new arrivals have SHIELD badges that identify them as agents, but they are not dressed as blandly as the vast majority of their coworkers. One carries a tray of seedlings, wearing a bright yellow blouse and black slacks under her lab coat, the other js in a light blue oxford shirt, a blue and yellow striped tie, and black slacks. They make a beeline for Jax. "Hello!" says the first brightly. "Mister Holland -- should we call you Mister Holland -- I'm Jemma Simmons, this is my partner Leo Fitz." "Hey." Fitz gives a small, shy wave. "Lab partner not partner partner. We're from R&D. Agent Coulson sent us to help you with plants." He sounds a little dubious about this last part. Jax glances over to the newcomers as soon as they arrive, but is soon enough looking back to his plants. It's only when they draw near that he looks back up with a curious tilt of his head and a polite smile. "Oh! Um, just Jax is fine, I ain't even Mister Holland to most of my students." He's looking over the plants -- then the pair of scientists -- then the plants again. "R&D? Those ain't like crazy mutant peppers, are they?" Some of the plants in the tray begin growing rapidly, sprouting up taller and starting to fruit into orange peppers wreathed in small halos of flame. He scrunches up his nose, smiles a little brighter at Fitz's hesitation. "Y'all got a lot of experience with gardening?" "Nice to meet you, Jax!" Simmons gives a small embarrassed cringe. << Oh no he definitely does not want to be here. >> Her internal monologue coalesces out of a dizzying sea of free-floating thoughts evidently quite navigable to her but disorienting to any eavesdroppers. "Sorry, probably not so nice for you um. You can call us by first name, too, though pretty much everyone just calls us Simmons and Fitz." "Or Fitzsimmons," Fitz adds, with a surge of pleasure at saying this that he does not seem to notice much less examine. "Together, not individually, we're not fungible." His mind is as disorienting as his partner's, his thoughts only loosely verbal even when he is almost simultaneously contemplating the etymology of 'fungible', riffling through images of mushrooms, and rolling the texture of the word 'fungible' all around while suppressing an urge to repeat it. "Oh and these aren't mutants, but they are special varieties. Jemma is a botanist." "Among other things, but not a horticulturalist or -- oh!" She bounces -- actually bounces -- up onto the balls of her feet at the illusory plant mutations. << (so real)(so pretty)(could I make a plant do that) >> "Oh, how splendid, is that optical or --" "-- psionic, or some other mechanism?" Fitz doesn't so much cut her off as continue her thought, pulling abstract inconclusive ideas to the front of his mind from the extensive reading he's done into how mutant powers do what they do. "The gardening..." He looks at the tray of seedlings ruefully, remembering Simmons' crestfallen expression and their meticulously crafted planting spreadsheets. "Goes great in the lab, but every time we try to put things in the actual ground outside..." "...everything dies." Simmons nods her head in the direction of the still mostly-empty beds. << Not everything in the greenhouse is dead, but -- I hope he likes the plants anyway >> Lucien is unobtrusive as he slips out onto the roof, steps quiet and the glassy surface of his mind tranquil. He looks suited more for an office than gardening, in a light gray side-vented linen suit carefully tailored to minimize his bulky musculature, a white spread collar shirt, a tie in blue and silver stripes that brings out the icy blue of his eyes, and black monk shoes. Though he's clearly been looking for Jackson, judging by the worn old yellow Care Bear stuffie he is holding in one hand, he nevertheless halts when he actually sees his friend, eyes a little wider and a faint ripple disturbing the calm of his thoughts. He smooths it back out, stands up a little straighter, and proceeds towards the garden. "Fitz. Simmons." His head inclines politely to the pair. It's softer when he adds: "-- Jackson." "Fitzsimmons," Jax echoes, as he scoops another divot in the earth, gently works out another basil plant. "Non-Fungible Techies. You do botany," with a nod to Simmons, "and you --?" His brows lift curiously to Fitz. His nose wrinkles up sympathetically, and he glances to the greenhouse and then to the plants in Simmons' hands. Their flames fluoresce in shifting colors -- now orange, now red, now a cool blue -- before the illusion melts back into just the seedlings. He's gently placing his own plant into the dirt, patting the earth back in around it. "Nah, not psionic, it's just light. Can do a lot with light, though. Can do a lot with plants, too -- I mean, I ain't too learned with the science of it all but I been farming since about I could walk, if you -- ain't been having much luck up here, I could --" This breaks off with a small gasp, a brightening of his smile that extends out to the air around him, a shimmer of glimmering golden light effervescing into a halo around him as he bounces to his feet. "Luci! Ohmygosh sugar I missed you." He's darting over toward Lucien, throwing his arms tight and impulsive around the taller man before pulling back with a deep flush and brushing at the dirt he's left on Luci's suit -- which, with his hands crusted with earth, doesn't much help. "-- wait y'all know each other? Who don't you know? -- Luci did you know Nick Fury has a crush on you?" This has dropped into kind of a gleeful stage whisper -- not enough to reach the guards over at the picnic table but certainly in easy earshot of Fitzsimmons. "That would be amazing, I mean --" << We can't make him work for us (can we?)(just pay him I guess)(it would be nice to have an actual garden) >> Simmons brightens again, all thoughts of gardening misadventures banished. "Fitz is an applied physicist and engineer -- software and hardware. He builds cool spy gadgets that actually work!" << ...sometimes >> "Oh, she's also a biochemist. And a doctor." Fitz is very earnest here, balking at the thought that anyone might think less of Simmons than him. "And an engineer, too, even if her components are squishy." He's steered his mental information review towards optics, especially in terms of coherent light and holographic technology. "I keep telling you, nobody thinks of genetic engineering as actual engineering." Simmons blinks, not at Lucien's appearance so much as Jax's reaction. "Hello, Mister Tessier!" << Aaaaaaa seriously the Director? And Lucien Tessier aaaaaa (he is really hot)(I mean, look at him)(is it creepy if I want to go see the Capsical again) >> "We worked on the rift project together..." "...though we were really just gophers for the team," Fitz admits without any thought of self-deprecation. "But your daughter is amazing, Sir -- Mister -- Jax. Sir. Hi." He gives the same shy wave to Lucien, and is not nearly as worked up about Jax's sort-of-whispered revelation, though he had not actually considered Nick Fury as a sexual being at all and is faintly unbalanced by the idea. Lucien freezes for just a heartbeat -- he's not not glancing to the dirt on Jax's hands -- but when Jax starts to pull away, to apologize, he wraps his friend back up in a fierce hug. He's just pulled back again when Jax mentions Fury. His brows lift, his hand coming up to touch fingertips lightly to his lips, the faintest ghost of a smile wisping there and melting away almost too quick to catch. "Goodness, Director Fury? He did once mention that he enjoyed my performance in the show, but I thought it a mere courtesy." His eyes are sweeping the roof, the garden, the plants, and he sheds his jacket -- brushing it off before carefully folding it and finding a chair on which to set it neatly aside. "I suppose I ought not be surprised that in no time at all here you have insinuated yourself into the local gossip and found time to revitalize the gardens. This man," he tells FitzSimmons, "is a bit of a force of nature. -- they are underselling themselves, a bit," he adds to Jackson, with a small tip of his head towards the Science Duo. "That whole ordeal took all the great minds they could find, and they really are quite brilliant scientists." Jax squeezes his eye shut, his breath catching as he leans back into the embrace. His eye is a little glimmery-brighter when he pulls back, but so is his smile. "Oh, c'mon, honey-honey, you gotta know you have that effect on many people. I see what folks say 'bout you on Twitter even if you don't let it swell your head none." He's flitting back to the plants with a small huff of a laugh. "I got nothin' but time, here. Anyway the plants is a means to an end because it's the kitchen that really needs work an' these herbs gonna help me liven up mealtime some." He's gesturing, now, to relieve Simmons of her tray. "A biochemist an a botanist an a doctor -- gosh what don't y'all do? -- so what's special about these?" A blush floods his cheeks, and he bounces slightly on his toes. "-- B is amazing. MIT don't know what they missed drivin' her off -- but thank goodness she been thrivin' down here, too. Gosh, I bet she'd be so curious 'bout your gadgetry. Is it real James Bond-like?" "Electromagnetism -- is one of the four fundamental forces of nature!" Fitz sputters, truly excited as bright drifts of incomprehensible graphs spinning through his mind, refracting into mathematically conceptualized rainbows. "Though. Maybe you didn't mean it that way. We both kind of --" "-- studied too many things to be useful in academia?" Simmons suggests, in fact a bit self-deprecating if bemused. "Director Fury has a knack for figuring out where to put unusual people." She cringes again. << Oh no word choice >> Jax saves her from further awkwardness when he takes the seedlings, to her immense relief. "Oh! Fitz created an AI that assembles plans for selective hybridization to produce novel lineages of vegetables with the genetic diversity of heirloom varieties and even wild types." "And Simmons made them happen. Some of them." Fitz's mind is flashing through a sequence of comically failed tomato plants. "But we could only ever make these grow in hydroponic setups, and we don't have enough space in that lab to produce useable amounts of food." Other than their lunches, he's musing. At Jax's question Fitzsimmons look at each other, then turn back to the others and start talking simultaneously. "The UN -- " "would love to" "-- classified information --" "-- nothing compared to what she's done --" Simmons bats lightly at Fitz's arm until he quiets, then allows with a blush, "I think we'd have to ask Agent Coulson. But I think at least for our personal projects," she gestures at the seedlings, "like this, there's no reason we can't share. Oh!" The words in her mind bob and shift as she pivots. "Do you use your photokinesis to help the plants grow?" "I do see what people say about me on Twitter. I assure you, it keeps me humble." Lucien is slowly drifting after Jackson, eying the sparsely planted garden beds critically. One of his brows hitches fractionally as he glances first to Jax and then to Simmons. "-- I think we may have slightly different ideas than the Director as to where unusual people belong. I am glad that this place is allowing you both to thrive, though." He sets the Care Bear gently aside, propped up against a pot of cilantro, and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, crisp and precise where he cuffs them neatly above his elbows. He's crouching down to join Jackson, digging out a space for a new seedling. "What has been the issue with your plants?" "Oh, I don't do none of that fancy Magneto-stuff," Jax assures Fitz quite earnestly, followed by a genuinely curious, "... what are the other three?" His soft glow returns -- perhaps in response to Luci's comment on Fury or perhaps at Lucien joining him at work, and he scoots several of the herbs closer to the other man. "That sounds real neat. Plants this high up need more water than if they was on the ground. The constant wind up here dries 'em out some so you gotta figure that into their care. I'll be excited to help these little guys grow." The question draws a small laugh from him. "Oh, out here they got plenty of light without no help from me. My indoor plants back home, though, I do give 'em a bit of help through winter. Much more eco friendly than grow lamps." "The strong and weak nuclear forces, and gravity." It's Fitz's turn to bounce up onto his toes. "Light is energy generated by electromagnetic fields." His mind churns out colorful, melodious representations of...electromagnetic fields producing light, presumably. "So, if you're controlling the oscillation of EM fields that's kind of a fancy Magneto --" He stops abruptly and looks at Simmons. "Can Magneto make light?!" Fitzsimmons exclaim as one, then fall to somewhat less coordinated speculations. "-- bioelectricity is a plausible mechanism --" "-- not enough data --" "-- can a human mind even process --" "-- okay but what if you spin him really fast --" "-- probably not compatible with life --" Simmons breaks them out of their excited overlapping chatter again. "Sorry that's --" << (Dehumanizing?) >> "-- how we brainstorm." << Agent Coulson is going to kill us if we keep at that (but how does he do it aaaaaaaa?) Just talk about plants! >> "The plant problem is kind of a Little Dutch Boy situation? But lot of it is watering-related --" "-- which is why we should build a drone to do that." Fitz does not sound at all put out -- it's a comfortable old argument that pleases them both. "But we hadn't factored in the elevation!" "Yes, thank you!" Simmons is looking between Jax and Lucien. << He's here because they're friends (does he just collect hot famous men or?) we should let them catch up >> "Do you want help? We're not skilled, but we can supply some --" "-- moral support!" Fitz says brightly, but at Simmons' lifted eyebrows corrects without obvious embarrassment to, "-- extra hands!" He waggles his fingers as if to demonstrate his possession of aforementioned hands, though really, he's just glad to be waggling them. "I suspect," there is a warm flush of amusement in Lucien's voice, "that Magneto would not take it well if you tried, ah, gyrating him. You might be surprised, though, at the range of what some human minds can process." His brows lift as he sets a rosemary plant carefully in the earth, and he gives Jackson a sidelong glance. "-- Can you bend metal, then? With or without spinning very fast." Jax's brows scrunch up in thought at the tumble of excitement from Fitzsimmons. "Why is strong and weak nuclear force two different -- forces? How come it ain't just 'nuclear force'? I mean electromagnetism covers so much an' it ain't like light is one force and magnets is another, right?" His nose has wrinkled at the speculation on Spinning Magneto, and he does not comment. He does give Fitzsimmons a lopsided smile, a gentle: "... drone? I do gotta tell you that we already invented some pretty good solutions for waterin' your plants on a schedule without, ah -- I mean, I could set up some drip irrigation up here if you wanted." This comes a beat before he admits: "... B does water her garden with a drone." He presses the back of his dirt-flecked knuckles to his lips to stifle a laugh. "I mean, I won't say no to some cheerleadin', but if you want to turn over that bed," he's nodding to an adjacent plot, "an' work some'a that fertilizer into the soil I won't say no either." He rocks back on his heels, meeting Lucien's glance with a bright grin. "I ain't never tried to do it Magneto's way but 'course I can bend metal. You got some you want bent?" "Oh, no, we wouldn't gy --" Simmons glances at Fitz as though expecting him to feed her a line. "-- gyrate anyone without consent. He was speaking hypothetically." "Not about the drone, though," Fitz adds primly as he goes to pluck up some likely-looking gardening tools. "The strong and weak forces both happen to apply to atomic nuclei, but in very different ways. The weak force actually merges with electromagnetism at extremely high temperatures, which -- is neither here nor there!" Simmons picks up where he left off. "Proving a Theory of Everything that unifies all four fundamental forces is the holy grail of particle physics." << Can their powers sense what's happening at the subatomic level? Talk about having too much to process... >> She blinks out of her reverie and twitches a self-conscious smile as she takes up a gardening fork. Fitz's eyes are considering the spool of garden hose by the tool shed, but his mind is tumbling through calculations that finally leave him with the sense that he should heed the suggestion of a man who knows what he's doing in this literal/metaphorical field over his own extrapolation from data and reflex to build robots about things. "Drip irrigation. We could try that first." There's a faint uplift in his tone that makes it sound uncertain. "If you let us know what stuff we'd need, we can requisition it." "Consensual gyrating is generally how I prefer to approach it." This time, Lucien sounds very serious. Serious, too, when he add, thoughtfully, to Jackson: "You can create extremely high temperatures. Perhaps you could be more than one force of nature." Both his brows raise, now, and he studies Jackson a long and steady moment before picking up a sturdy trowel and, curiously, offering it out. Jax presses his hand briefly to his lips, not actually stifling his laugh, this time. "Consensual gyratin' is a big part of your work, ain't it?" His shoulder bumps lightly against Lucien's, and his smile hasn't faded, exactly, when he adds to Fitzsimmons: "-- Gosh but I am glad you two wasn't at Prometheus." His mouth purses, twists slightly to the side. "I expect if I got the temperature quite that high it would be, well, incompatible with life. Or your lives, anyhow. But it would be cool to be several forces of nature at once. Unify Physics all on my lonesome." He's taking the trowel from Lucien, standing up and stepping back from the others. It is getting warmer up here, a fierce (but entirely life-compatible) heat radiating out from him. A horned helmet appears on his head, purple cape fluttering behind as the trowel appears to lift out of his grip, twist itself in midair. He's looking very smug when it lands back in his palm, warped and bent fully in half. "See? Maybe deep down we're all a little Magneto." Fitzsimmons exchange a nonplussed look, both of them mentally reviewing the dance numbers in Captain America: The Musical for anything that might reasonably be termed gyration as they start prodding (inexpertly) (delicately) at the as yet fallow garden bed. And then abruptly stop at the mention of Prometheus. Simmons blinks at Jax. << Why is he glad we weren't -- oh no are we too threatening? But what do you say to that? >> While his partner frantically considers and discards platitudes, Fitz tries to school his face into expressing kindness. It does not, however, get a passing grade, and he mostly just looks like he's in pain. "I'm -- also glad we weren't there?" Simmons hadn't meant this as a question. << Or maybe it would have been better if we were and could help people. (would we, though)(of course we would)(but would we, really?) >> "I -- I'm very sorry you went through that. And other people. Too." Fitz has not managed to stumble into that ethical quandary and, satisfied that Simmons has communicated Socially Acceptable Empathy, moves on to considering whether Jax could produce the relevant temperatures. "To merge the fundamental forces you'd need minimum 10 to the 32nd power degrees -- oh wait, that's kelvin, uhh..." He's still making the conversion when Simmons cuts in. "I don't think the difference is statistically significant." << Oh wait did he mean "gyrate" as in spin, like PR? >> "It's so hot particles can't even coalesce! It would vaporize the planet." << ...and solar system...maybe the whole galaxy? >> Fitz hums thoughtfully. "I think it depends on how much mass you heat, but yeah, if you did that to the trowel we'd all be in trouble." His eyes go wide. "Wait, did you just illusion that or is it actually...bent...?" He's just aching for a spectrograph of Jax's display while Simmons guiltily wonders what that would look like on an fMRI. "It's very cool either way! Or hot..." Lucien looks gratifyingly impressed at the twisted trowel. "You are a man of many talents. If one of those talents is vaporizing us all, I am glad you left the trowel intact." One hand starts to reach for the twisted trowel curiously before he pulls back, clasping his hands in front of himself. "-- more or less." He settles back down to the work, a very small smile tugging at his lips. "You two do not get many mutants through here, do you? Before, ah, the present -- situation." "It's just, you mention stickin' one of us in a centrifuge or -- whatever to someone in the labs and next thing you know we'd be spinnin' for the pure curiosity of it. I prefer them white coats as un-inquisitive as possible." Jax is already pulling the trowel juuust a little away from Lucien's reach even as the other man pulls back; his outfit is melting smoothly back to -- actually, it looks very little like what he was wearing before, shortalls now black and swirled with abstract rainbow batik patterns, tee shirt purple and reading (in glittery gold font) 'let's switch gender roles!'. "Why not both? It is bent, good an' proper. Don't think I used any magnetis... well, I guess you done schooled me that this is all electromagnetism." His brows are scrunching up in some confusion. "But I mean I bent it with my hands and not my brain." Demonstratively, he's holding the trowel back up -- his hands glow with that same fierce heat (visible, this time); the overheated metal warps in his grip, bending... more or less back into shape, though it now has a slightly crooked wiggle in it. "Got a ways to go from here to vaporizing the entire universe but, baby steps." "Not many." Fitz is mostly thinking of B Holland and Bruce Banner, both of whom he unabashedly admires, with only a distant sense they must have had other mutant contractors. Probably he doesn't know because of Compartmentalization. "Director Fury is a strong believer in compartmentalization," Simmons says earnestly. << Maybe too strong. Do we have any mutant agents? It's probably bad if we don't -- >> But here Jax's warning about Giving Prometheus Ideas brings her up short. "Oh! That --" Suddenly her thoughts are sorting too quick and chaotic to be easily followed from outside, resolving at last into, "-- means even ethically sound research could --" "-- inspire Prometheus." Fitz had not quite understood what Jax said until Simmons reframed it. "We don't work with Prometheus researchers, that we know of, but --" "-- science isn't a closed ecosystem. It thrives on the exchange of ideas." Simmons chews on her lower lip as she goes back to (gently, too gently) raking the soil. "I know this isn't about one thing Mister -- Jax, but I -- we'll be more careful what we say." She means it, but has a sinking sense that they can't continue steering clear of Prometheus for long. << That fieldwork training, the x-genetics crash course, the physicals -- is the Director going to send us in? >> None of this turmoil shows on her face save in the scrunch of her eyebrows. Though not so quick to put words to it, Fitz is also troubled and makes a note to consult with Simmons once they're alone. None of this dampens his enthusiasm for Jax's less obfuscated demonstration. "That's amazing," he murmurs, almost shyly. "I didn't mean to imply you would want to vaporize the universe, even if you could. But that is amazing and thank you for showing us." "I think the inspiration flows both ways. It is a bit startling, once you are aware of it, how many recent scientific developments have trickled out of those barbaric labs." Lucien watches the clarified demonstration with a small, pleased smile. It quickly shifts into a faint press of lips as he looks down at the dirt in front of him -- back to the too-hot trowel. "... I could have used that." "Oh! I helped with those holo... computer projectors!" Jax chirrups excitedly, and then, far less excited: "... not voluntarily. But like -- bunch'a flu vaccines, the mutant suppression drugs, whole lot of new neurodegeneration -- therapies, some real creepy weapons the military got now -- it's kinda a grab bag." He scrunches up his face apologetically, and looks down at the trowel. "Well, 'tween all four of us, I'm sure we can manage without it."