Logs:Can We Keep Them?
| Can We Keep Them? | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-08-16 TRY YOUR LUCK! DUNK THE DUCK! (part of mojo tp.) |
| Location
Browntown, WI | |
This place is not living up to its name, today. It looks a little bit like giants have been having a paintball fight, enormous splatters of thick colorful goo dripping down the buildings and trees and swirling in strange marbled patterns into the river. There's no giants, though, and no paintballs, just a number of whirring droning -- robots? Perhaps? of some kind, half metal and half some kind of blobby organic material. With whatever rift they came through closed behind them they seem to be a bit off-script. Maybe originally, in some other world, they had a purpose, but here in this one that's a bit abstruse; they've been careening somewhat wildly from here to there to there, dispensing their globs at seemingly random. Here a splotch of green that sizzles and burns angrily where it falls, there a dollop of yellow that rapidly shrinks whatever it comes in contact with, there a purple that binds fast to anyone who touches it. Jax still has angry itchy welts along the back of his hand where some pinkish goop splattered on him earlier and he will definitely need a new X-Jacket later; this one's been pretty heavily eaten away. Though the whirring in the air has heavily dwindled from earlier he's still very alert. As a pair of the blobby machines bobble their way over the roof of a fishing pro shop he's throwing up a quick pair of shields, one to deflect the splatter of blue that's aiming towards the back of Scott's head and one to bubble over a cat on the shop's porch rail who has been watching the entire goings on with a vague superciliousness. A large red dollop gloops above the cat and slides harmlessly away. The cat watches it fall, unimpressed. The bubbles vanish. This is a new X-Jacket, in Scott's case -- or, was, about an hour ago; it too has been ruined, partially dissolved on one sleeve and congealed into a gloopy purple mass around the other, giving Scott a bit of a hunchback-of-Notre-Dame appearance only accentuated by a slight hobble in his step (one of his boots is also caked in purple goo.) As soon as Jax's defenses disappear again, Scott goes on offense, pinging a glaring blast of red off the gleaming metal of one of these bots to knock into the second; both go careening in opposite directions, one of them spitting out globs of strongly scented fuschia in all directions as it spins off, until it too hits the water and disappears in a fit of bubbles. The door of the fishing shop is opening with a cheerful jingle of its little bell. Sriyani has not taken up fishing lately or moved to Wisconisin but here they are, dressed in hiking pants and a bold orange quick-dry tee, tumbling out onto the porch with wide eyes and a low, "wo-o-oah." They are not nearly so blase as this cat. They're leaning up against the railing nearby it to peer out at the colorful carnage. "Woah, what are those things, are they like, more weird alien bugs? Are we getting invaded again? Are you on an alien paintball team, oh wow," this comes as one of the bots careens into the other, "that was a wild shot! I think you're winning." Nevaeh pokes her head through the door from behind Sriyani, eyes wide with delight. She's wearing a purple tee with a band of cyan flowers around the middle, lightweight gray pants, and black sneakers. "They sure do look like bugs," she ventures, uncertain. "Ew, I think some of that stuff is acid!" She's pointing to where a part of the porch railing is dissolving in Dali-esque slow-motion. "Uh, should we come back later?" She raises her voice to be heard by their teachers, but shows no inclination to flee back through the door. "Are y'all serious right now." Jax does not sound as incredulous as he maybe should when a couple of his students show up in the middle of a dangerous battle(?)field. His back is currently turned to them, which doesn't stop him from spreading a shield wide as another pair of bots bumble around the side of the building and immediately splatter twin doses of orange in the children (and cat)'s direction. "Some'a this might be worse'n acid." His head is cocking like he's trying to get numbers from the amount of whirring still left around them. He's half-turning -- his next shield isn't really shielding anyone, some distance off in front of Scott. It's high in the air but very hard to ignore, brightbright red like a carnival game (it even says TRY YOUR LUCK! in cheerful text above it, and, DUNK THE DUCK! below) with rows of bullseye-targets set up on rows of cheerful yellow ducks. The rest of the targets fall away, leaving only one very large duck (it is wearing a red visor) bobbing in the center of the game booth, now, its bullseye gleaming mirror-bright as the booth angles just subtly. The bots coming around the row of trees beyond this are mostly obscured by the foliage, currently, but their whirring can be heard plenty clear. "What the --" Scott is distracted only momentarily by the surprise appearance of students, swiveling an opaque (but, probably, displeased) red glare at them. "Yes -- no, don't come back. Go back inside." Does he really expect them to listen, maybe not, there's already a note of resignation in his voice as he turns back around, tilting his head back to take in DUNK THE DUCK! with a very tiny chuckle. It's not long after the bots have buzzed into view that Scott rebounds a blast off the duck -- two of them collide in a fluffy plume of acid green smoke; a third is blasted into the foliage behind it, where it spits sparks and thrashes among the branches before the fourth bot also smashes into the tree. The fifth bot continues apace toward the X-people, translucent blue bulbous bits beginning to glow yellow; as Scott reaches to adjust the dial at the side of his visor he shoots another glance over his shoulder: "Inside," he repeats. Sriyani is unsurprisingly not going back inside. Hopefully it's not effort for Jax to make these shields or anything! They're leaning right up against the one he put up to protect them, peering through its orange splatter down at the bots futilely trying to menace them. "They're kinda ugly-cute. You should take one back, see if you can tame it. I bet Mr. Tawadros could..." But then they're looking at the fleshy globs and trailing off with a momentary uncertainty. The uncertainty is dispelled into a gasp of appreciation. "Holy crap that was so badass. I bet if you guys asked Nahida she could make you some videos that -- I mean, that was honestly cooler than anything the Avengers have done. -- Oh we have something really important to tell you but, um, it can. Wait. Till -- y'know." "I think they're ugly-ugly." Not that this is stopping Nevaeh from gawking at them. "Wow! No, yours are way higher on the shield ranking than Captain America's. Quentin's are really good, too, but not as pretty. Or as many. Oh! Can yours stop bullets, too?" She looks suddenly a little embarrassed to be questioning a teacher this way, and asks Sriyani, low but not exactly hushed, "Lasers are probably stronger than bullets, right?" "We ain't exactly tryna be no Avengers." As Scott's beam vanishes the duck topples, spurting a spray of confetti in its wake. From the side of the carnival booth a very large very plush version of one of the techno-organic robots blobs its way down to sit at Scott's side, quivering unsettlingly. "An' we ain't keeping 'em. The booth disappears; Jax's shields disappear. The two bots that are trying uselessly to splatter the children grow their own smaller one, a little dome that bubbles them up contained and harmless for now. "... we ain't keepin' 'em, right?" This sounds less confident than the first time; does Jax have any idea at all what kinds of things Hank might find useful in his sciencing, he absolutely does not. The air has grown considerably quieter, at least -- a frenetic but harmless whirr from inside the bubble in front of the kids, a lone hopeful whrrrr from the robot starting to glowing yellow towards Scott. It makes it seem more perfunctory than tense when Jax puts another shield up, brief; the robot near Scott bumps into it, falls to the ground, which doesn't stop it wobble-rolling towards the older man, now sadly leaking a trail of neon yellow goo. "... what you come here to tell us?" Jax is asking this with some degree of caution that does not seem entirely prompted by his scan of the area for Further Blobbots. Scott nudges the illusory stuffed robot with one boot, dropping it a slim and fleeting smile before he turns back to the others, grimacing at the bots now enclosed in their own floating bubble. "...Hank would want us to keep them," he admits grudgingly, and, "-- don't know how safe it would be to just destroy them here, I already don't feel great about leaving these folks with all this mess." As the sad final robot straggles toward him, he just puts it out of its misery with a very thin, laser-focused beam before he lifts his head up to the students; though he doesn't say anything (and though, behind the visor and hood, his face doesn't say anything either) he tilts his head inquisitively to second the question. "Shhh," Sriyani is saying not at all quietly, like they didn't bring up the Avengers to begin with, "don't mention Cap Mr. Jax is probably still heartbroken. But definitely Mr. Jax's shields are better." They clap their hands together at the assurance that the hideous things will be returning to the school, and are hopping down the porch steps (caaarefully around the splotches of goo) to peer into the bubble at closer range. "OH wow yeah they're gross." They do sound pretty tickled by this, though, they're gross in a tone of they're awesome. They're still peering in at the bots as they continue to the actual point: "Okay so we were just in Madripoor. They were having the coolest festival, if you've never been you should check it out it's going on through the end of this weekend, I think -- anyway we were at this big carnival thing on a ton of boats and then Quentin heard this kid crying for help and Nevaeh found where they were and I opened a door and got them out, and," They twist around, peering over their shoulder at the X-Men and seem to do some hasty recalculation here of the balance of the wisdom of telling this story in full versus the clear injustice of leaving out their other friends' part in it, ending on a somewhat vague: "... Avi and Nahida were helping us and anyway this kid says a lot of mutants have been getting kidnapped to get sold but --" They look to Nevaeh as if for confirmation. "-- we're nooot really sure, like. Where. Just missing." "The slavers are pirates," Nevaeh puts in critically, as though these particular ones were additionally culpable for ruining the good name of pirates writ large. "We found some --" she's quick to protest before realizing the wisdom of Sriyani's artful omissions. "I've been looking for them but I can only find them before they're sold. After that it gets all..." She goes still and her brows furrow with concentration. All around them, a translucent three dimensional projection springs to life, though it's very hard to tell what it's showing. There are flashes of people and rooms and objects, but often disjointed and filled with static snow. "It's never done that before." "Madripoor?" is Jax's first reply, just a little anxious with a reflexive fret that is immediately confirmed by the rest of this story. The big plush illusion blobbot vanishes as he focuses on Sriyani's words, then Nevaeh's disjointed projections. His expression is composed enough, but where he's crossed his arms over his chest his fingers dig hard into the crooks of his elbows. He shoots a worried look to Scott, his brows creasing deep. "Thank you for coming to tell us. Is that kid somewhere safe now? I think we --" He's grimacing down at the bubble in front of him, where the pair of robots are bumping into each other in an increasingly deep pool of orange glop. "-- gonna be here a hot minute on cleanup, but that means some time I think to hear everything y'all know." "Madripoor?" is Scott's first reply too, though it lacks, really, any inflection at all; when he crosses his arms it is also without much outward anxiety even as he listens to this very concerning news. "When you say you don't know where, do you mean you already..." maybe this isn't a question he really wants answered, for he shakes his head, returning Jax's worried look with a perfectly inscrutable one of his own. "Good looking out," he says, then -- though he does glance at the door to the pro fishing shop consideringly -- "We can give you a ride back to school, too." "Oh yeah don't worry!" Sriyani chirrups, "We left them in my dorm just now, they'll be fine." They straighten with a small bounce on their toes, hands clapping together, and the gleam in their eye suggests that oh boy are the X-Men about to get Some Rambling. But first: "Great, how can we help?" | |
