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| Luminaire (Hey, Ho); [Northstar, Doc McCoy] | |
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| Topic Started: Apr 22 2014, 03:02 PM (139 Views) | |
| Hank McCoy | Apr 22 2014, 03:02 PM Post #1 |
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November 2013 Hank's Lab The happy, light, and (to some) incorrigible 80s synth beats of Steve Winwood flooded the Research Laboratory of Henry McCoy, a massive subterranean chamber, clean and clinical, but well lit and bright in an unobtrusive way. In one corner was the mini-drive Immersion Deck he'd been working on for quite some time; a micro Danger Room that'd make investigations into various things much easier, if only he could get it perfected. In another corner was a large chemistry lab, in another, a cloud of wayward wires, tubes, and circuitry, exploded and suspended in a strange glass cube of greenish gel; something he'd borrowed the idea for from a friend, the conductive gelatin allowed for, essentially, a free-floating computer. Nanotechnology allowed for a literal plug and play interface, and that cube of electronics ran almost every automatic protocol in this large room. While McCoy still lamented the loss of his original laboratory, well, this one was better and he loved it. At present moment he lounged in a chair before a large keyboard and monitor, a microwaved styrofoam box of P.F. Chiang's precariously balanced on one thigh and a report on the recent lull in "Militant Mutant Conflict" balanced on the other. It wasn't exactly meditation, and he fought the almost constant urge to roll his eyes far enough back in his head to loop them around his occipital lobe, but he didn't take it very seriously anyhow. He had someone coming down soon anyways for some talk time and that'd distract him just fine. For the moment though, he half read and half watched his episode of Game of Thrones, with cheesey 80s fair playing from a forgotten iPod somewhere in another corner of the Lab. "Oh you're terrible." He sniped at the TV screen through half a mouthful of rice and chicken, leering at the images as they moved red and bloody across his monitor. "Sneaky sneaky." A door slid open with a mechanical, whuffing sigh and McCoy craned his neck up and over his computer monitor to see who'd come in, and his face brightened considerably, all memories of the Rains of Castamere forgotten. "Jean Paul welcome welcome." He said. "Not quite finished with lunch yet," he continued, holding up the foam box. "Though that's no big deal." |
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| Jean-Paul Beaubier | May 12 2014, 09:01 PM Post #2 |
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Jean-Paul had been free from the Hand’s control for several months now, but he still didn’t feel exactly right in mind or body. It was not only the guilt at his actions that bothered him, but the lack of control over his own mind and body. When he had been under the Hand’s control everything that now seemed utterly reprehensible had seemed completely sane and logical. Jean-Paul had always been someone in need of control over himself; growing up he had never been in control of his circumstances but he could look after himself. The Hand had stripped that away and revealed the frailties of his own mind. On top of the mental scarring, Jean-Paul was left with questions over his powers as well. He now knew that he was able to produce the light by himself which before he had only been able to do when in contact with Jeanne-Marie. From the holes in the walls of the student dorms and from what Rho and Pixie had seen, Jean-Paul knew that whatever had been done to him meant that it was more than just light he was able to produce. He hadn’t even attempted to test out his powers since the Hand had fallen, although he knew that he couldn’t keep putting it off. Asking for help was never one of his strong points, however, and this was something he would certainly need help with, to find out exactly what was done to him. Eventually he had swallowed his pride - a difficult task to do - just enough to approach Dr McCoy to ask if he could run some tests and look into the changes that had been made to him. Who better to do that the man whose counterpart had made those alterations in the first place? In fact, he was a little surprised that no one had asked him to have tests run sooner, but the main focus had been on Cyclops and his return from the apparent dead. Entering the lab cautiously - for a speedster, at least - Jean-Paul nodded briefly as Dr McCoy greeted him. “Where do you want me to sit? What is this going to involve?” He had always been one to get straight to the point. |
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| Beast | May 21 2014, 12:52 PM Post #3 |
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"Well first off." Hank said, replying directly to the direct questions. "I haven't forced anything on any of you simply because I know that to be used and abused in such a fashion is a deeply personal and terrifying experience, and I wouldn't want anyone poking and prodding at me before I'm ready." Hank (perhaps crudely) shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth before shoving the box into a bin. Moving across the lab he moved to a bay full of what looked like junk but was actually several unorganized crates of sensitive equipment. "We're just assessing what's changed in your X alleles that's allowed you to do things you couldn't do before. Noriko, Theresa, Scott, Nightcrawler, even that poor boy from SHIELD had a unique brand of scarring in their genes, potentially permanent, that have given them some strange quirks; for example, Surge's output levels are skyrocketing, almost dangerously, and are kept in check by whatever hardware my lesser half installed. You don't seem to have any new pieces, from my original examinations, but better safe than sorry. He approached Northstar then, a slew of stuff slung over his shoulder and he then motioned to a comfy-looking chair. "These tests won't include anything that makes you uncomfortable, so if something does, just say so." He sat on a rolling stool and started untangling cords and electrodes. "So before we start, how are you feeling? The lot of you seem to be recovering well enough." He worried about all of them. He worried about what that crooked, bent version of himself had done to his friends - to his family. They seemed to be doing alright on the surface, but Beast was aware and intimate with the fact that surface appearances almost never betrayed what was really going on down below. |
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8:58 AM Jul 11