ArchivedLogs:Danger 101

Danger 101
Dramatis Personae Jennifer, Shelby, Ivan	2013-04-19 Shelby and Ivan take their first visit to the Danger Room, in which Jennifer learns she should stay away from the Danger Room.
Location <XS> Danger Room - B2
The subbasement corridor looks different from those above it. It looks like a freaking spaceship, is what it looks like. Like you have stepped into The Future and also Space at the same time. It is not often that students visit the deeper levels of Xavier's school. Usually, it is a sign of status, an indication that the students are prepared to face the far more mature aspects of the school. Today, however, two of the students that have been given access to the lowest level of the school are not there fully by choice, if indeed at all. The one responsible for bringing them here is standing by the very entrance to the Danger Room, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. Jennifer Walters has visited the fabled room only a few times herself, and only twice as the architect of the intricate virtual reality - once with Scott Summers, another with Jackson Holland. Her attire is light, designed for movement and exercise; it is a step up from the more casual gym attire she can usually be seen wearing during physical education. Jennifer is wearing a white-and-purple body-suit with short sleeves and similarly short shorts, spotless white running shoes and purple fingerless gloves. Ever so patiently, she's humming the melody of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now, waiting for the children to make their way down as they had been instructed by her. Choice has absolutely nothing to do with this. Even the prospect of getting out of her afternoon classes has not cheered Shelby up, after receiving notification of just what the classes were being replaced with. Notice the thunderstorms in her expression as the elevator whooshes open and she steps out into the hallway with Ivan in tow. It is practically a big middle finger that she's dressed not for adventuring but for regular business, in skinny jeans, sneakers and a zipped up hoodie. The hoodie /has/ been decorated with a number of colorful tattoo-style images--a phoenix, some sparrows, a few dragonflies, a snarling dog with spiky collar--but that's the only cheerful thing about her. In short, the girl /really/ does not want to be here. But as she ambles towards the Danger Room entrance, her hands shoved deep in her pockets, she keeps her mouth shut. Jennifer is on the receiving end of a curt nod. No profanity. Ivan trails after Shelby less because he /wants/ to, but more because this is a completely unfamiliar environment to him and Shelby IS familiar and oh no where are you going? He's wearing-- his usual clothes, also. They may or may not be Danger Room appropriate but then /he/ isn't very Danger Room appropriate, usually! So some half faded jeans, dark grey T-shirt and sneakers will have to do. He stays halfway beside and halfway /behind/ Shelby, but his eyes lock onto Jennifer the moment she comes into view. And for once, he's the one who speaks up first! Somewhat pale and barely audible, "Hello. Miss Walters." It sounds almost apologetic, even if he's trying his best to keep his shoulders back and his back straight. Jennifer's humming ceases when she hears the pair enter. Eyeing the two arrivals as they come into view, the redhead inquires snidely, "Casual clothing?" For a moment, this almost seems like a prelude to a series of reprimanding remark. However, Jennifer merely cocks a brow before amusement overtakes her. "Perfect. I was hoping you wouldn't come here dressed with a bike helmet or elbow pads or something." Nodding to the two, Jennifer pushes herself away from the wall. "Okay, I've told you you're not to bring any electronic devices or smuggle any creepy-crawlies with you. I trust you well enough on the first that you care about your fancy phones too much to bring them in--" She pauses momentarily once she stands before the door. Leading her hand alongside the steel surface, she looks for where the damn biometrics reader. "But Ivan, if you decided to bring your /friends/ with you, you're going to ruin this entire exercise, do you understand?" Even as the serious question is asked, Jennifer is still trying to figure out the fingerprint reader. "You bring your water gun?" This is Shelby, and her tone of voice is challenging. Note how her hands remain in her pockets! Is there anything in there? She /isn't telling/. But she is giving Jennifer a good looking over and her expression strays towards the skeptical--where would anyone hide a water gun in that? On the bright side, the question appears to have distracted Shelby from the possibility that Ivan might be sneaking bugs in. She barely glances at him before returning her beetle-browed look to the teacher. "You know we're not, like...badasses the way the twins or Rasa or Peter are, right?" The look of apprehension on Ivan's face when casual clothes are mentioned is clear. Even the clarification doesn't do much to calm him back down again. "I understand." Indeed, there don't seem to be any bugs on him. It's hard to tell with them sometimes tangled up in his hair or hiding in the very seams of his clothes. Then again, he is not known for outright /lying/. Doing someone else's homework is not technically lying, right? Yeah. The seemingly bugless bugboy looks momentarily a little defeated, all by his lonesome + Shelby, before anything has even been allowed to start. As her fingers desperately grope the centre of the doors in search of the biometrics reader, Jennifer casts a sideways glance to Shelby. "I /know/. That's exactly why you two are here. I think the comfort of this school softened you and made you forget what lies outside its safety." Boop. Everyone knows futuristic equipment such as this makes noises when activated. The fingerprint is scanned, and the light that comes on indicates that voice recognition is the next step. "Jennifer Walters." There is a brief pause, and finally a monotonous voice announces: "Congratulations, Miss Walters. You /managed/." The doors slide open. Huh. It didn't do that before. With a half-annoyed look, Jen eyes the opening doors, slowly stepping inside, looking over her shoulder to make sure neither of the two kids get cold feet. "Besides, I promised Jax I'd break you in gently. Just think of this as the /Threat/ Room, instead." 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. Seriously? Softened her? Shelby prickles at that and the look that goes winging towards the older redhead is /dire/. "Lady, I took care of myself out there since I was /thirteen/," she can't help but say. Really, there's no stopping The Mouth when it gets going. She has no sympathy for Jennifer's fumbling either, though there is a faint smile that appears when the computer sasses her too. Ha! Go computer! "C'mon, Ivan," she says, briefly mollified. Seizing the poor boy's elbow, she hauls him in through the opened door because They Ain't Scared! Honest. Whatever's in there, /they can handle/ and fuck anyone who thinks Shelby Anne Wilson is soft! Gghk-- Ivan stumbles forward, arm first. His eyes widen but the muscles in his jaw tense. As though he was going to be saying something /anyway/. It may be evident by now that he was never anything BUT soft, the way he is pulled forward with relative ease. He makes no attempt to break free, preoccupied instead with letting wide eyes scan every inch of what he can see beyond those opened doors. Even if, at the moment, it may just be panels. Maybe /that/ panel is different. Maybe that one. That one? Having noted Shelby's sullen gaze, Jennifer actually has to turn her face away from the two just to grin to herself in private. She doesn't even respond to the teen's boasting. So far, so good. Once she walks some distance, Jennifer stops and turns around to face Ivan and Shelby. For a few silent moments, she looks them over, as if to make sure she isn't forgetting anything. "Initiate sequence sixteen, phase tutorial-A." Slam. Doors close. The panels are gone. There is nothing but darkness. Strangely enough, the trio can still see one another, lit by an unseen source of a mild ambient light. "During this exercise, you will face simulated threats that you are expected to treat as actual ones. However, at the same time you must bear in mind that no matter how believable your environments will be, you are in the Danger Room. Failure may /always/ be lurking around corners you suspect the least, but it will not come in the shape of death or injuries." A pause, then. "Any questions before you start?" Shelby's hand clamps down on Ivan's elbow when the doors close and the lights go out. It takes her a moment to realize it's not /fully/ dark and during that time, her unfortunate classmate takes the brunt of her (mostly hidden) anxiety. "Yeah, anyone ever tell you that speech ain't exactly /reassuring/?" she pops off when prompted to do so. What? Jennifer /asked/. When the lights go out, Ivan's eyes-- stay wide. But having been deprived of things to look at, his eyes come to rest on Shelby. The hand on his arm clasping tighter causes him to show little visible distress beyond, perhaps, an ever so subtle look of concern. In fact, a second later it makes him push his shoulders back again, turning to eye Jennifer with renewed confidence. Seriousface Ivan is a go. No questions. Let's do this. "Yes. Yes, they did, Shelby." A layer of faux confusion can be easily penetrated by just about any gaze, discovering mockery beneath it. "But I'm sure you two aren't as soft as I was led to believe, are you? Or are /you/ just worried for Ivan?" Speaking of, Jennifer shifts her attention to Ivan. Noting how determined he is to get started on the exercise, the teacher grins. And with that wide grin of hers, she utters, "Initiate phase tutorial-B." Darkness engulfs all. The grip Shelby has on Ivan is soon replaced with thin air. Light slowly begins to crawl and spread from the feet of both kids; an unpleasant odor that indicates a complete lack of hygiene fills the expanding room. The wallpapers are torn, the floorboards are ugly. Not something your parents would want to see you rent. Once the dim light rays from boarded up windows reach the entire room, both Shelby and Ivan will discover they are on their own. Both of their rooms share their appearance, both have only one door leading out, wherever 'out' is. The rooms even have an old-fashioned bed with a soiled mattress that no one but a bum would want to sleep on. She-Hulk's voice informs both of them: "You have been captured by the Brotherhood of Mutants. One of their members saw you use your powers in public and kidnapped you when you least expected it. You are now separated, regarded as their future recruits who need... a little bit of convincing to agree with their cause." And then silence. Okay. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," Shelby says, in her isolated room. The hand she'd used to clutch at Ivan now joins its opposite in resting on her hips as she turns in a slow circle. She is scowling once again--big surprise there, right? "Because being able to turn cartoons into anime is soooo fucking desirable!" But. They are there. And Ivan is missing. May as well run with it. So the teenager stalks to the front door and makes a grab for the handle to try to yank it open. She doesn't really care about the rest of the room, paying no attention to the potentially useful option of /searching/ it. Which is exactly what Ivan does. After-- a moment of standing with his arm awkwardly outstretched like it's still being grabbed onto. Ohh-kay. Okay. Breathe. His determination stays, under a thin layer of wariness, and the first thing he does is look around. Every corner, every nook. He even crouches down to look under the bed, though he decidedly refrains from actually /touching/ it. "Shelby?" His voice is quieter, but he makes an effort to speak up when he continues, "I can hear you." The handle from Shelby's door easily slips out of its position. The one Shelby's grabbed is an "innie", while the one that remains on the other side has a little rectangular metallic bit sticking out, which has to be turned for the latch to retreat into the door. A muffled masculine voice come from behind Shelby's door, but Ivan would be able to hear that as well: "Shut up in there, or I swear to God I'll shoot you!" Floorboards creak and heavy steps thud against them as the yet unseen individual passes by Shelby's room. Then Ivan's. So, there is a hallway outside! Ivan's room is rather barren, just like Shelby's. He will find absolutely nothing within it. Addressing Shelby would prove fruitless too, since the words would be too quiet to pierce a wall, a hallway and another wall. Even if said walls are in a state of disrepair. Guns. Shelby /hates/ guns. This is why she doesn't yell back at whomever it is out there walking by. In fact, she's gone rather pale in spite of Jennifer's reminder that death or injuries are not a possibility here. The hand she has wrapped around the handle shudders, in fact, and then quickly retreats so she can scrub her palm against her hip as it prickles with sweat. After this patch of anxiety is spent, she turns and looks around...then heads for the window to begin /pulling/ on the boards covering the glass. If they prove stubborn, she gets her foot up against the windowsill to add a little bit of extra oomph to the process. A voice! An unfamiliar voice. And a threat, on top of that. Just like that, crouched down Ivan stops searching. There is a brief moment where he seems to /focus/ with his eyes narrowed, before remembering something. He sinks down, and sits. Blank face, arms hanging by his sides and hands knuckles-down on the floor. Nope. Done. He's done. Shelby duly discovers that the boards covering up the windows are the more recent addition to this room. Or, well, they are simulated as being more recent. Not that she could tell - it /really/ feels like wood and it /really/ feels like they are about to give, but in the end do not. The experience is in fact so palpable, that her middle finger gets a splinter in the midst of her honest offers to dislodge the boards. Weirdly enough, closer examination will show there is no splinter; the sharp sting was uncanny, however. Some more muffled voices. A man bursts through Ivan's apparently unlocked door - he stands tall with a shaven head, a filthy wife-beater and tracksuit pants. One hand holds the door handle, the other grips the handle of a handgun, a Five Seven should anyone recognise it. "The good /doctor/ informs you're next in line, Russian bug-boy", he announces boisterously. "Won't keep ya waitin' much longer." Slam. Door's shut. No keys. No lock. The coarse words would be heard by Shelby, too, albeit muffled. "Son of a /bitch/! That's fucking /cheating/!" Shelby exclaims as she hops back from the window, scowling while inspecting her finger. Another glare gets sent up at the ceiling even after realizing there is no splinter. "You're a /cunt/." And whether she is informing Jennifer of this fact, or the computer itself, she does not clarify. Instead, a voice intrudes and she turns back to the door, eyes going round. Scurrying back, she presses ear to door to listen--then pulling at the handle again when the man shuts up. Ivan /shrinks/ when his room is invaded, and all at once he's pulled himself up into a position to ready to get to his feet and back away. Yet the jaw-clenching and brow-furrowing fear that is now overly evident in his expression keeps him on the ground, curled up with his knees up to his face and fingers pressed onto the floorboards. Not breathing. He peers upward at the gun, at the man's face, and at the gun again, brow lowering with every word spoken. Then the door shuts, leaving Ivan to stare at-- the door. His breath returns to him as if only to allow him to whisper a slew of Russian words to himself. As the gun-wielding man's words inspired fear, so do these inspire determination. Even if half of them may, in truth, be words his father would probably smack him 'round the head for. He rises and scrambles for the door, grabbing the handle as tight as his lightly shaking hands allow him. Open. Please open. This time, Shelby's exclamations do not lead to further reprimanding. As the handle is inserted back into its respectable slot, there is of course the risk of it pushing the other one out and ultimately screwing Shelby over. Fortunately, that does not happen. This time, the door opens. Ivan is more fortunate with his handle-turning adventures. It helps that he is far less violent with it than Shelby with her first attempt. The hallway is pretty long, but not too long. It is marred with some prophetic Brotherhood graffiti. To its left end is a dead end, complete with another boarded up window. To the right, the hallway leads to a staircase (on the right side) and a patrolling goon with a gun in his hand. The hallway has six rooms in total, and Shelby's in the middle room, on the same side as the staircase. Ivan's on the opposite side, closer to the end of the hallway opposite of stairs. The goon is currently at the stairs, admiring an intricate graffiti placed on the wall that positions his back to the rest of the corridor. Hello, Ivan! Shelby startles when opening the door and pokes her head out shows her not only Ivan but a bad guy! She jumps--and then she scowls. A finger touches to her lips, the gesture intended for him. Shhhh. No freaking out. The warning could be as much for her as it is for him. Her head turns then and she studies the goon's back a moment. A moment is all it takes for her to figure out how to take the henchman out. Behind him, one of the pieces of graffiti writhes on the wall...then flows to the floor, travels to his feet, slides up his pants leg and ultimately aims to cover his entire face. Including, it should be noticed, the "man's" pupils to blind him. Ivan does his usual amount of speaking when he is in unfamiliar places. That is, /none at all/. His probably-profanity-ridden whispering has ceased, and Shelby is met with a tentative nod. His look down the hallway is brief, but enough to see the graffiti moving. Which is when he takes a step back, past his half open door and back into his room, and promptly covers his ears with both hands. The guard is completely unsuspecting of what's happening. When he turns around to continue his patrol, the graffiti is already snaking up his body. Spotting both Shelby and Ivan, he freezes. But it is already too late. Blinded, he begins to yell like an animal caught in a bear trap. That gun raises. Blam. A hole in the wall appears. Blam. Another one. Right about now gun expertise would come in handy - how many rounds does that particular gun have? In the meantime, Ivan's retreat is inconvenient. There is a blind yet /armed/ gun man outside. Now would probably be a good time to try and sneak past him, or they will have to wait for the magazine to be emptied. He mostly keeps his gun high, at adult-height. Blam. That one was sent straight for the floorboards. Okay, so maybe not always adult-height. The screaming guard seems intent to march forward in his frenzy. It looks like Shelby could wait for him to pass or even make a break for it. Or she could try and get Ivan. Wait, is this a team exercise, or a survival exercise? The gun's report causes /so/ much fear in Shelby. This is not her first shoot-out and it causes an immediate reaction--she screams and ducks back into her own room too. Which leads to the question of what did she /think/ would happen, blinding a man with a gun? Someone will have to ask her later though because the girl has been plunged into a fight or flight situation, and she has opted for flight. Back to the window she flees, pulling at it again and wailing, "You fucking BITCH you said we couldn't get fucking HURT I'm going to fucking KILL YOU!" It becomes very clear, very fast, that the sound of guns firing is not Ivan's favourite sound either. He winces with every shot fired, though somehow the sound of Shelby's voice penetrating the hands clasped over his ears cause a stronger reaction yet; Those shoulders get pressed /back/ again, and his hands leave his ears to allow him to shove his door open all the way before he swivels around and clamps his hands down on the frame of the bed, struggling to flip it onto its side with very meager strength indeed, aiming to push it toward the door as fast as he can, mattress and all. There's the Russian rambling again, a little louder this time. Shelby might learn a thing or two, between shorts fired. The rumbling sound of the bed being pushed out into the hallway enrages the gunman. He has no idea what is happening at the end of the hallway, and so begins to unload all of the bullets. The bed has a steel frame, and that includes a steel bottom that the iron spring-laden mattress is pressed against. The corridor is not wide enough to support all of it, but it makes for good cover. For a moment, it seems almost like a film moment, in that the shots almost never cease. A little over fifteen shots later, they cease. Clickclickclick. The gun is tossed aside. The guard slowly and warily steps forward, by now having passed Shelby's room. The coast is clear, Shelbs! She could probably make a run for it by now, surely. The profanity issuing forth from Shelby's room--all of it directed at Jennifer and her likelihood of living to another day--gradually dies off in the heavy silence that follows the last gun shot. Oh look, Shelby is /crying/. There are tears streaking her cheeks, her nose is swollen and snotty and red and she is still shaking from adrenaline. /Not/ a happy camper. She stops tearing at the boards to stare at the doorway, cringing a little when the figure of the guard stumbles by. Then...then fear becomes unbridled anger. She darts forward, turns...and almost careens into the bed Ivan has shoved into the hallway. "/Fuck/," she breathes, before vaulting it. "Shelbyshelbyshelby/help/," comes a voice from within the room Ivan was camping out, upon the sight of said Shelby. He's still got his hands pressed onto the bedframe, for the moment frozen in time. What? He did a thing! He moved the bed and it was vaguely useful! He needs a /break/. Or bugs. Or advice or orders or basically /anything/, lest he remains standing there like an obedient hunting dog waiting for a signal. Reality dissolves. The rooms, the hallway, the bullet-mangled bed and the gunman are all gone. Both Shelby's escape lead to no consequences as they end up in a blank white space, a boundless room similar to the darkness before the exercise. Jennifer is seated at a simple table that also has two other chairs on the other side. There are two mugs of green tea and a box of tissues, likely for Shelby. Jennifer doesn't look much better than the kids, although to say she looks as bad as them would be an overstatement. One cheek is propped against her knuckles, smushing it. Her other arm is splayed out on the table. "Well, my first Danger Room session is my last." The tea is probably illusory, but hey, maybe it's just as good. Her eyes shift between Shelby and Ivan. "You know, from the way you acted - especially /you/, Shelby, what with your 'street background' - I didn't expect that." "You both did a great job, both in your own way. Shelby, you neutralized the guard. Ivan, you created impromptu cover. But I pushed you two too hard." A heavy sigh comes along. She falls quiet. The kids have a lot on their mind, no doubt. She creates the window of opportunity to rant and swear at her. God knows, she deserves it. Shelby wants so very badly to take off. It shows in her twitchiness when she screeches to a halt and turns back to Ivan to stare at him. Would she help him over the bed? Now no one will ever know! The simulation fades away, leaving the girl to jerk her head back and look around. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns towards their teacher's voice. Once her puffy eyes lock on Jennifer, the sputtering begins. Better that, though, than more swearing. Oh wait no, here it comes! Window accepted. "Maybe if you fucking /talked/ to me instead of /shooting/ me you'd /know/, you goddamn crazy bitch! Eat my ass!" Yes. Eat it. Maybe she meant kiss? That could be, but Shelby is stalking away from table, chairs, Ivan and Jennifer towards the presumed doors that lead out of the Danger Room. She scrubs at her face as she goes, trying to erase the evidence of crying oh god. Again, the teenagers end up on opposite sides of the spectrum. Bed now having vanished into thin air, Ivan straightens and - relatively calmly - peers around when the environment has changed once more. Jennifer's reappearance and talking to the students manages to catch his attention only briefly, because Shelby's explosion of words holds his attention much more easily. It prompts the look of concern back onto his face, and he starts to move almost the very moment Shelby does. Not, however, without throwing a last, confused glance back toward Jennifer. "Shelby?" He hastily trails after her, much as he did when he came in, but this time it is his turn to reach for /her/ arm. Waitwait. "Insert walls." Walls pop out from the non-existing ground, creating an impassable barrier. "How am I ever going to talk to you, Shelby, if every other word that comes out of your mouth is swearing, and the moment something doesn't go your way, you want to escape? You don't let /anyone/ in, you act like you're invincible and then burst into tears when shit hits the fan." Jennifer reclines in her chair, looking at the two kids as though they were a ten thousand piece puzzle... with half the pieces missing. She observes Ivan trying to stop Shelby, which may be a little bit redundant with the walls that popped up, but the teacher silently observes, nonetheless. It is a close thing, but Shelby does not round on Ivan when he grabs for her arm. It is allowed--though he gets a dark look. Much of her ire is reserved, thankfully, for Jennifer who is at least sturdy enough to take it. "And what the fuck have you done to get me to talk to you? Huh? Shoot me in the face with water? Act like you're some big tough bitch 'cause you caught me cheating? Y'know /why/ I cheated? 'Cause Ivan was fucking /worried/ about me and asked if he could /do/ anything and there isn't shit to /do/ for me right now because it's all messed up, so I had to think of /something/. I don't have to tell you /anything/. You don't fucking /deserve/ it." This stream of invective given, she gives her arm a shake. Gerroff. "I wanna go," she sulks. There are no stares back toward the table from Ivan, this time. His grip on Shelby's arm is loose, almost loose enough not to be felt at all, and so readily slips off when it is shaken. He doesn't quite seem to know what to do with that hand, now, leaving it to hover in mid-air as if waiting to grab Shelby /again/, but never does so. The confusion evident in his expression stays and seems to double as the girl speaks up again, his eyes searching her face in contemplation, staring at her as if she'd only just materialised. Another heavy sigh. As Jennifer rises from the chair, she murmurs, "Unsummon assets X-73, Y-2 and AB-11." The furniture pops out of existence, as do the tissues and tea. For a short while, Jennifer stands still and silent, watching the kids, hands on her hips. "If I keep my job, I'm asking you two to get transferred to Mariot Gall's group. Obviously not for my sake, but for yours." A bit of a grunt, then. The teacher begins her approach towards the two. "Stop simulation", she commands. And just like that, the three are back in the panel-coated room. "For what it's worth, I apologise." A moment's worth of thought later, she adds, "The bullets were programmed to turn to harmless water splashes upon impact with the simulation's participants." The teacher passes by the pair. Jennifer opens the heavy-set doors, although she remains to stand at the side, letting Ivan and Shelby leave, first. "You did good, though", she would mention softly as the two would pass. Shelby wastes no time in leaving. She all but charges from the room, in fact, expression unsoftened by the apology or the softer tones used or Ivan's hovering concern. The most important thing here? That she stomp off and find a way to repair her face before anyone /else/ sees that she's been crying like a baby. Grrrr! Ivan doesn't directly follow when Shelby stomps off. He takes a moment to direct his stare at Jennifer, simply observing her through what confusion still remains within him. He still looks vaguely shaken, but whether or not that is because of current events or because of the simulation from earlier remains a mystery. "Good--... bye, miss Walters," is all he flatly offers before he, too, heads off in hurried steps before Shelby disappears out of sight.