ArchivedLogs:Bad Advice

Bad Advice
May Fortune Favour the Feral...
Dramatis Personae Logan, Scott Summers, & Rasa	May 6th, 2013 Logan, enjoying a six-pack on the roof of the X-Mansion, is accosted by Scott - who comes to him for ADVICE (of all things), about what they are teaching and why at the School. Their little (and ill-fated) heart-to-heart is cut short when Rasa shows up, with some dire news...
Location <XS> Roof
Sunset on the rooftop of the Mansion - Logan approves. In an effort to be alone for a bit, the grizzled, troubled mutant has brought a six-pack of beer, his cigars and is sitting on the roof with his knees tucked up so he can rest his elbows on them, staring out into the west. For the most part, he doesn't move, but to occasionally lift a half-drunk bottle of beer to his lips. He takes a swig, smacks his lips in appreciation and goes back to staring. He has no cellphone on him, no X-Men comm device nor even his pager (as a teacher here). The last thing he wants is company. Pity one does not always get what one wants. At least the beer is good. Yes, a shadow would be cast over this relaxing scene far away from the troubles of the world at the top of Xavier's vast mansion. Scott Summers and Logan were hardly what you'd consider friends, so his appearance on the roof was hardly good tidings. Perhaps he'd come up here to get away from it all, too, but instead he'd only managed to appear and probably ruin both of the men's moods. All the same, never one to leave well enough alone when it came to Logan, he stubbornly walked over to the roof railing near the Wolverine and placed his hand on it so he could lean and look out at the stunning vista. He was content to be quiet for a little moment, maybe not completely shit things up here. But how long would that last? Not terribly long. "I just got back from St. James. Looked at some bikes. You'dve liked them." Actually, for Scott, this was not actually all that shitty of a lead-up to a conversation. Something had been bugging old One-Eye for the past few months. Maybe he'd cured his jackass disease? (Probably not). "Knew this was too good ta last..." Logan mutters under his breath for the wind to hear his misery. He doesn't look back at Scott at all. "Your bike's fine, slick. Even has a full tank. Merry Christmas, or whatever." He looks at the six-pack as a muted way of saying if you wanna beer, grab one and then returns to looking at the horizon. He says NOTHING more to Scott. The silence... could be deafening. Perhaps he is waiting for Scott to explain why he has come looking for him? Or perhaps he really has nothing to say, and is equally set on not listening to anything either. He was pretty careful getting up here, without being seen. He avoided the telepathic students (not an easy thing), and the trackers. He was smart. He was sneaky. Not even... "The Prof tell you where I was?" he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. "Of course not," Scott says, his expression falling into vague annoyance at the implication that he'd even bothered to ask. After one more almost-serene moment of looking over the grounds from the roof, he turned around and leaned his hip on the railing, giving Logan an even, ruby-red stare for a good moment. Instead of launching into a witty rejoinder, his shoes clicked against the ground until he'd reached the ice chest, and he'd bent down and pulled out a chilled beer, popped the top off and started drinking before you know it. He'd preferred to stand, at least, not presuming to take a seat near his erstwhile companion. Cyke waited for a while with his lips pursed, and looked out at the school. This was tough for him. But he steeled himself, and took the plunge. "I want to ask you for advice." *Stop the Universe...* Cyclops wants to ask Wolverine for advice. CYCLOPS wants to ask WOLVERINE for advice. *Jump-Start the Universe* "Is it just me, or did the universe just implode?" Logan asks with a cocked eyebrow at Scott. He snorts. A moment later, the dour-faced mutant motions expansively to the spectacular view all around them, and shoves a cigar in his mouth. "Free country." Down below on the basketball court, some of the kids are playing. There are a few near the lake, and a couple are working on cars as 'pet projects' just outside the garage. There's a teacher chasing a student with the power to burrow through the ground. She isn't having much luck. Scott gives Logan a wry, half-hearted, and lop-sided smile, sipping some more of that courage juice to try to loosen up enough to get to talking. He wipes his hand on his jaw, and says, "It's because you're pretty new around here, all told. You're like a fresh pair of eyes. An outsider. That's the perspective I need right now, even if I can guess the answer I'm going to get." He walks over to the railing again, taking up a permanent position to lean on it and look out at the kid on the court going for a lay-up, then the children out by the lake. He turns and looks over his shoulder at Logan. Finally, he asks. "What are we doing here at the Xavier's School? Are we giving these kids a chance to succeed at all? And if so - is it in academics as a professional, or is it as a mutant as...like, child soldiers? I used to be crystal clear, but the time everyone's been spending in the Danger Room is starting to make me question it." A beat skips, and then Scott's jaw juts out, and he points dangerously at Logan. "If you ever tell anybody I asked you that question, I'll deny it, and then I'll blow your hairy ass all the way over to Canada to live with the moose in your natural element." Logan snorts. "You wanna ask me for advice, bub? What do I look like - the school guidance counsellor? You'd be better off asking the Prof somethin' like that." But the question has him rattled. That cut close to home. WAAAY too close to home. Logan puffs away on his cigar broodingly. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, the word sharp and intense. "I dunno, Slim. I'm a soldier, killer - whatever. I agreed ta teach 'em how to use their powers in a crisis - that, to me, means 'teach 'em howta fight and not get 'emselves killed'. Or their friends. 'Parently that ain't what ol' Wheels had in mind. Me, I wonder if he'd say the same if the government decided that a school for mutant kids is a 'threat to national security' and came bangin' on the doors..." He snorts again and reaches for his beer. "If that happened - an' it will. I know it. - Then he'd appreciate what I'm tryin' ta do. C'mon, what gives? You're the Teacher's Pet, Slick. What's got YOU playing the Black Sheep o' the almighty X-Men. Thought that was ME." Scott swallows in his throat - the two men are out there on the roof talking about heady issues over a couple of cold ones. It's a very scenic evening view, though the atmosphere on the roof would make you think it ought to be raining. "I'm doing my best. We've taken in a few new students, and I've taught here for a while now, so I've seen quite a few more. We both know they don't just have to be ready to fight, they have to be better just to survive, if that's what it came down to." "You've got me pegged. Charles has me sold hook line and sinker on the dream of peace, Logan, and you can laugh and sneer all you want. That's okay. The other week though, where we had them carrying little laser rifles in uniforms - I am just waking up during the night thinking about it." He gives a very weak laugh, and rubs his hand across his face over the shades. Wiping off sweat. He was nervous, it could be smelled. "I guess, Logan, I'm just trying to figure out if we're doing the best we can for these kids, or if we're just giving them pretty room and board with a side of Spetsnaz." "Yeah, well..." Logan starts a reply and then trails off. He cannot think of anything to say. "Your little 'dream' is just that - a fucking dream. Even if it is a nice one. Nice..." he repeats that word with a heavy helping of sarcasm dripping off it. "You can keep on doin' what yer doin' then. No point worryin' about ME messin' with your dreams 'n shit..." And that's all he says on the matter (for now at least). He goes back to smoking. He has more reason to be pissed now. Not only does the Wolverine have his own issues, it looks like the Boyscout is asking the same questions. THAT is just too weird. Down below the roof, the student burrowing at high speed through the lawns hits a treeroot and surfaces near an oak - rubbing his skull in pain. The female teacher chasing him tries very hard to SCOWL - and not to laugh - and leads him away to the infirmary. Logan snorts. Rasa has been searching the school. Logan has been no where to be found. The young telemorph is growing quite distraught now as ze begins checking all the places students hang out when they don't especially want teachers around, since the teachers don't seem to be in the places they are supposed to be. If this doesn't work, guess who is going to be breaking into the second basement level next? Rasa. Luckily, Rasa checks the roof first. Ze peeks out the attic window and spies two larger than student forms and pries the window open with hir fingers. Hir frantic mood has put a gaunt look on hir face and a tension in hir arms that is visible through hir clothing. Ze steps out onto the and scurries across the roof top to stop suddenly at Logan's side. "LOGAN." The young person half shouts at the older man, Scott pretty much ignored. "Logan. It's Peter." Ze is out of breath. Scott clearly doesn't have much time to mull, or muse over the poor student on the other side of the campus. He quickly detaches from the railing and takes a couple of steps forward, his hands tense at his sides. He glances at Logan, and then at Rasa. You couldn't say he was surprised, but he was gravely worried. "What about Peter?" he asks, despite not being the addressee. Logan climbs to his feet - cigar in one hand, beer in the other - and looks from Scott to Rasa. "Woah! Slow down, kid. Air's thinner up here... I think. Whatever. What's wrong with Peter? - besides the bad jokes, I mean." He peers at Rasa, his nostrils reacting to the urgency of the young mutant, his ears reacting to the stress in hir voice. He doesn't need to be told that something has Rasa rattled. "What is it?" Logan asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness in his tone of voice. Scott gets a single glance, and then Rasa has his undivided attention. "Peter's gone! He's not answering any of his messages and the police! I think the police have been called and his aunt and uncle don't know where he is. You have to understand, he texts all the time and he's just plain gone." This bit is given to Scott since he asked so nicely, but then Rasa turns on Logan more fully. "You know what kind of trouble he gets in. He's been kidnapped by monsters and almost eaten so many times and then there was the person who stabbed him in the leg and he's getting all buggy now and some terrible people might be hurting him because his face is getting buggy. You have to find him, Logan. You have to find him and bring him back." Logan holds up his hands. "Woah! Again woah!. OK, I'm hearin' 'Peter's missing' - AND I'm hearing 'Peter's turning INTO a bug?' Did I get that right? Damnit." He glares at Scott, knowing full well who he's calling. "This is the Prof's fault, Scottie," he says with accusation. "Webhead was doing better when I could train him MY way. Now... he's doing things HIS OWN way, and we're all gonna get dragged into it." When the breeze passes by, Logan inhales deeply through his nose, straining his ears and eyes for any sign of Peter around the mansion. It's a longshot at best, but short of just RUNNING OFF it's the best he can do for now. "Nothin'." Logan grunts. "He's not near the mansion. What's this stuff about him turning INTO a bug? A 'real' bug? You're serious??" He is already makes for the stairs. "Dammit. I'm not supposed to talk about that." Rasa's face contorts, turning a dark bronze color, a metallic sheen taking over the hue of hir skin, disguising superficial thoughts from rising up. "Look, you're teachers. If you want to know about Peter's ... mutation, talk to his advisor, okay? Dr. McCoy knows what teachers need to know about this, okay?" Ze turns to follow Logan, gnawing on hir lip. "He's probably in the city. He spends the weekends with his family in Brooklyn, I think. Maybe the Bronx. I don't know. A B part of town. I haven't been there, but Ivan knows. Please don't let him get eaten by something terrible. All these creatures wanting to eat Peter. I don't understand. He doesn't look tasty." Logan SCOWLS. Like, REALLY scowls. He's pissed. "This shouldn't be happenin'," he tells Scott, looking over Rasa's head at the 'original' X-Man. Truth be known, Logan blames himself partly for Peter's... predicament (not the mutation thing, though), but he'd never admit it. "Look, Slim - you call whoever you wanna, but I'm goin' LOOKIN' for him. You know - like Rogue. Now are ya comin' or not? Think fast coz there's a bike down there I'm takin' if you're stayin' here. If you're comin'--" and he glances at Rasa as well. "--We'll take a car. Once we hit Brooklyn, I'm goin' on foot. I track better that way. Ras'... You'd probably be better off stayin'. Especially if Pete comes back." Scott's teeth grind a little bit, here. There's a lot of water to allow to just slide off his back in a few moments, but he replaces his phone into his pockets after sending a preliminary text. "I'll meet up with you later. I'm going to contact the Professor, who is right now our best bet to locate Peter," he says, casting a meaningful look at Logan to mean Cerebro, the secret telepathy enhancing computer beneath the basement of the X-Mansion. "I'll meet up with you shortly if you text me a rendevous location, and gathered some of the team. If you're going, and anything serious has happened - be careful, and remember your communicators. We can have a team out to your location in a couple of minutes depending on your location." Scott's Ducati is murder on wheels, and it is his baby. It is not given out lightly. He tosses Logan the keys and starts to head for the elevator. "Whatever blows your skirt up, Slim," Logan retorts behind him, over his shoulder, at Scott. Then he opens the door to the stairwell that will take him down into the mansion again. He gives Rasa a glance, and a simple nod - then he bolts down the stairs. The beer is left on the roof-top, for anyone who wants it. Logan has probably forgotten all about it - now one of his students is in trouble, and everything else going on in his life right now... just doesn't seem to matter as much. The Wolverine is hunting. END LOG.