ArchivedLogs:Crazy Group Telepathic Dream Things

Crazy Group Telepathic Dream Things
Dramatis Personae Regan, Charlie Torres
In Absentia	30 March 2015 Part of the Future Past TP.
Location <BOM> Infirmary - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
It is a small space, but a crisply clean one. It lacks the rustic charm of many of the other buildings -- in here it is steel and concrete, thick metal door and cold metal tables. Cool white walls. Stark-bright fluorescent lighting. Against the walls there are cabinets low and cabinets high, space between them broken up by steel counters and a pair of sinks, one larger than its sibling on the opposite wall. There is a desk tucked into a corner, home to computer and a pair of filing cabinets to either side. This room holds beds, too, a pair of cots near the back. Centrally there is a segmented examination table, steel as well though its metal is softened by a covering of padding. Occasionally stored against the walls or occasionally brought over near beds and tables as needed, a smattering of monitors and medical equipment give this room clear purpose. An adjoining bathroom has a small shower along with sink and toilet. Just outside there's the sound of combat -- sort of a hiss-sizzle, thwack-smack. Grunt-slam-/yelp/. It's quieter in here, though. A slide of cardboard against concrete, a creak of hinges. Then nothing, really, but soft tap-tap-tap as Regan stacks boxes away in a cabinet. She has earbuds in her ears, several boxes (some open, some not; some already emptied and broken-down by the door) stacked by the cabinets. At the moment she's emptying one of the boxes out. Alcohol swabs. She has a tablet, a checklist. Tap one thing off as she transfers it from box to shelves. Move on to the next. One could rest assured that Charlie would not be in this room if someone hadn't pointed her toward it while she was seeking out Regan. The long ears half buried between a teal wool hat and longer brown hair seem to flop a little limper, shoulders hunching up and nose twitching rather impressively at the antiseptic smells. Her hands a buried deep as they can go into the pockets of a navy and cream jacket worn unbuttoned over a faded-out blue tee with an abstract tree patterned on its front, chocolate corduroys, and oversized work boots. The faint clove scent about her does come from from an item held in her lips, though it is a licorice twig chewstick rather than a cigarette, wiggling around slightly as her teeth worry it. She pushes the door to before knocking on it...as if asking to be let /out/ again, though her purpose is more to alert the woman with headphones on to her presence. Regan turns at a bit of delay, at the knock. Frowning, and then plucking an earbud out of her ear. Her eyes scan over Charlie in quick assessment, one hand dropping to rest on her knee and her feet bracing as though about to push out of her crouch -- though she doesn't, quite. "Are you hurt?" This sounds skeptical. Critical. "Sick?" "Hey, no. I'm okay." Charlie makes a concerted effort to relax her posture into something more casual, moving in away from the door. "Doctor stuff just kinda gives me the creeps since forever. S'the bogeyman stories they tell little freak kids, y'know? No offense or nothing." The chewstick shifts around with greater attention from the hare-girl's teeth. "I was looking for you to talk about some things, came up yesterday when I was in the city. Okay if I bend your ear while you work? I can come back if you're doing an important. Concentration thing." Regan's lips twitch. Briefly. "I'll make a concerted effort not to vivisect you," she assures Charlie. She rocks back on her heels, leaning up against the cabinets behind her. "Stocking shelves doesn't exactly take up the most brainspace. What came up?" "Gee, thanks," Charlie returns with a healthy dose of sarcasm, though there is a hint of a smirk peeking out under that still-twitchy nose. "I been trying to come up with a way to say this that don't make me sound completely crazy, but s'far as I can tell there ain't one. You...heard about some kind of regional group telepathic dream things?" Despite being the one asking she still sounds a bit skeptical herself. "I was just getting a coffee at Evolve. Come walking by a guy gardening, middle of the city. I like gardens, he doesn't mind my face. We get to chatting a little. Then Daken comes dropping in like a goddamn flying monkey, talking crazy shit about killer robots and concentration camps. I'm thinking, maybe he's had too much to drink or something? But then the guy I'm talking to says, no. These dreams are a real thing..." Eventually she cuts herself off, eyes just searching Regan's face for any hint of a reaction. Regan has started turning back to her cabinets, moving on to unloading sterile gauze -- but the tilt of her head at Charlie's words implies curiosity. Or puzzlement. "Mmm," is the only noncommital noise she makes as the other woman talks. "Yes. I've heard. It's true. We're looking into it. More precognizant than merely telepathic, from all we can tell." There's a faint tension in her shoulders. "Unfortunately." "So, this /is/ a thing. I didn't just stumble into two crazies sharing hallucinations." For a time, Charlie just gnaws on her chewstick thoughtfully. "So you all are looking into a thing? This guy I talked to, he also says he has people looking into a thing. Is there...some kind of plan, maybe, dealing with the...Sentinel issue? I just. Someone, maybe. They should talk at Daken about it. He come right out after saying he had this dream, talking how we need to blow up the facility, kill all the scientists connected with it. I can't tell how much he means what he says, every conversation all about killing people the way he is." A puff of air moves past her lips, not quite a sigh. "I don't know if I'm checking to make sure that's not the plan, or if there is a plan, or if maybe we need to let him know. It's not the plan. Just gave me a little worry, him talking like that. 'Specially in front of someone we both met only minutes before. Maybe it's not my place... Just been gnawing at my mind is all." Regan turns again. Lifts an eyebrow. "You were talking to a /stranger/? And Daken was talking about blowing up the facility, killing all the scientists --? Just in front of this man?" For the moment, Charlie's other questions are -- not answered. Charlie winces a little at the focused response, her hand going to the back of her neck to rub at it in a nervous fashion. "Like I said, I don't never know if he means a word coming out of his mouth. I ain't even talked to him that much and he's always just going on about killing his way to the top. Having some vendetta against an X-man he want to kill. Chopping people's hands off instead of shaking them. Could be he's just one of those guys gotta bluster all the damned time to feel like a man. What do I know? I got here practically yesterday." She finally nods in answer to Regan's questions. "Yeah. When I introduced the guy I told him we just met a few minutes before. He says what he says clear as day. I tried staring a hole through his fucking head, but he doesn't take a hint much." "I see." Regan's head tips, once, acknowledging. Her fingers tap lightly against her knee -- just for a moment, and then she goes back to storing supplies neatly away. Checking them off on her list when they are stored. "As far as we can tell, the events the dreams foretell are several years off, still. We're taking steps to head them off before it ever gets there." "That seems...like it needs to happen, if these dreams are actually all prophetic. I kept wanting to think they were crazy, but it sounded like...things that could happen. Tip people just a little further from stealing us quiet and beating us one at a time. Go full force into camps and open genocide." Charlie's teeth rasp harder against the chewstick, audible only once before she restrains herself. "I got this guy Ash's number. He said he's got a group of people all been having these dreams. Gathering information. Making plans. You want I should keep in contact? See what they got?" She finally leans a little against a counter. "I'm not just here to hide out, now Burn's gone. It's good to have people, a place I can have my face out no problem. And I'm more than happy to be helping keep the grounds and the gardens here, things like that. I just want you to know you can call on me, too." "It is not exactly," Regan says mildly, a very small twitch to the corners of her lips, "a future I'm keen on seeing either." She empties out her current box, standing to shred it open at its edges, fold it crisply and stack it with the others. "Ash. He has more information? Yes. Please do. I have people investigating Oscorp's current facilities, but the more we know, the better equipped we'll be to stop all this." Her lips press together, though there's a darkly amused tone to her voice. "Preferably without resorting to bombing them and slaughtering all their scientists." "I think so, the way he was talking about his people. And how /quick/ he knew exactly what Daken was going on about. Sounds like probably they've been in this for awhile." Charlie gives a nod, half cocked to one side. "I'll see what I can get, having just met the guy. He does seem more on the discreet side of things. Which is a good and a bad at the same time. Think probably he only talked to me as much as he did 'cause I'm fucking fluffy. But, yeah. He was saying the same thing. Don't wanna go off like a bunch of half-cocked psychos and /cause/ the shit we're trying to stop." Her lips curl into a half-grin in a way that could only be pulled off with facial features such as hers. "I'll give 'im a call soon." "Precisely. Messing with time travel always seems a dangerous proposition. And there is talk that a rather large explosion -- precipitated a lot of the anti-mutant fervor." Regan's lips press /thinly/ together. "I can only /imagine/ the field day they would have with Daken blowing up all of Oscorp." Wiping her hands against her pants, she drags the next box up against the cabinets, slicing it open. "Thank you. Let me know what you find." "Shit, yeah. No need to start any reciprocity bombings. That's good...most people seem on the same page with this." Charlie's nose crinkles a touch at the 'most people'. "No problem. I'll keep you informed.”