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Babelism; [Cypher]
Topic Started: Jan 27 2015, 06:08 AM (306 Views)
Vertigo
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Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
Afternoon, Tuesday January 20th, 2015
Location: 'The Fridge; maximum security SHIELD restraint facility




[SHIELD Audio Log, Detainee 174 “Vertigo”, file 7510-299-834.60]

[ACCESS RESTRICTED. Please enter password]

PASSWORD: ********

[Access granted. Meta-Huamn Isolation wing, Cell 5. Begin playback]

[search records/tag/indeterminate audio]

110:12:47
“Raeha t'ur? ...Raeha M'uni?” [Language unidentified]

116:47:09
“T'ur makun-kno ke enasja eseo te sek n'yajai...” [Language unidentified]

[Laughter]

120:03:12
“T'yiuzi uyesi! Poja eþ!” [Language unidentified]

125:27:54
“Iseova. Byismi.” [Language unidentified]

137:56:14
[Animalistic vocalisations repeated for approx 6 minutes, audio analysis inconclusive]

143:25:53
[Sustained scream lasting 1 minute 4 seconds]

[Reaction suffered by detainee 485 under restraint in cell 19. See Audio Log Detainee 485, file 7510-838-226.20]

151:39:21
[Singing]

152:50:19
[Hysterical laughter]

160:24:43
“T'list lum rona buas!” [Language unidentified]

160:25:06
[Singing, interrupted periodically by quiet sobs. Language unidentified]

164:48:15
“N'rausk liyb pen n'buas…” [Language unidentified]

164:21:59
“Jaeri leha!” [Language unidentified]

[Steady, rhythmic banging]

[Tranquillizer deployed by Agent Triplett. See medical report file 8263-495-821.36 for full documentation]

[Pained vocalizations]

[Detainee 174 transferred to Cell 8]

[Cell 5 monitoring deactivated]

[End log]

Governor West sighed and with a wave of his hand the holographic log display flickered and disappeared, debriefing over. He found himself looking expectantly at the blonde mutant, half-hoping he'd be able to rattle off an instant translation. Calling in a favour from the X-Men was a last ditch attempt at dealing with a savage in a civilised manner. For just one person, Vertigo caused an awful lot of fuss on a daily basis, and he really didn't want the guards' attention spans drained by her when they had so much else to contend with.

SHIELD's holding facilities had taken a big dent in the last couple of years. The Gulag had been levelled by Exodus in 2013, and then last year the Raft had been seriously compromised by the Thieves Guild's exploits. The remaining detention facilities were having to cope with some extreme fallout and even though it wasn't yet at full capacity, the Fridge found itself housing more live prisoners than objects for the first time since it's construction.

Vertigo herself was assessed to be a mild escape risk with the right technology in place; enough that it stopped her from being shipped off to somewhere like the Vault, the Cube or the Big House. But there was concern about who on the outside might come looking for the little green-haired terrorist. The Fridge was SHIELD's best 'black facility', a location kept off the radar of anyone looking to get their hands on the engineered weapons or alien substances stored there. And the more Governor West read about Vertigo, the more he had to wonder if she didn't count as an engineered weapon or alien substance too.

“She's a real frikkin' riddle wrapped in a mystery in an enigma.” He sighed, and gestured for Cypher to follow him. They were already underground with several layers of steel and concrete overhead but there was one more elevator ride before they reached the lowest level of the holding cells.

“Big-wigs hand me a dossier on her, got the write-up from when she was in the Gulag... dunno if their restraint guidelines are worth the paper they're printed on mind, given the mess the Brotherhood made've that place.” He didn't envy the warden there, poor bastard. The lift doors gave way to the long, starkly lit prison wing. “But the rest of it? I mean... there's autopsy reports. They've cut this little weirdo up and cremated the leftovers. Then she pops back up in some other place!”

Other prisoners stared out from their reinforced perspex cell-fronts as Cypher and the warden passed by, flanked by two armed SHIELD agents. “She speaks English well enough when she wants to, but got no idea what she's babbling on in half the time. Dunno if she's gettin' angry 'cause we don't got a translator for her or just crotchety over the mind-readers that came in.” When language became an issue, SHIELD could usually negate it with Psi-Division telepaths. But even with a null cuff on, apparently Vertigo's mind was not a great place to go fishing... West had seen two agents walk away with nosebleeds and a third one threw up. They were so far underground, it took all weekend for the smell to really clear...

Vai was sat hunched on her bed, rocking back and forth when the four men approached. She merely tilted her head at first, unsure what to expect. If this was another damn mind reader, she'd scream until her voice broke, or his ear drums bled, whichever came first.
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Cypher
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He bit nervously at the edge of one of his finger nails, biting futiously at the tiny piece of finger nail that had somehow broken free on it's on and was now subjectively driving him out of his mind. who would have thought that such a little thing, such a mall minute thing as hangnail could cause so much torment? but here it was enslaving his mind and actions to anything else, if he could just get his teeth a little further down and make a connection; saliva dripped around his finger, he mad an almost embarrassing slurping sound trying to pull it back in. He could feel the shard of nail dangle just outside of his biting range if he could just get a little further in there .....

Ahead of him a couple SHIELD agents talked not so much to him but at him, which, considering his outsider status was no big surprise. There had never been the greatest relationships between the two divisions or between SHIELD and any of the subsequent X-based squads, except for X-Factor and that since that one had been forced on term of blackmail and ended with a public disinvolvment and trial Doug doubted it had done little to endear either side to the other. Still they had never reached a place where all actions and communications were closed and though a lot of his friends and compatriots at the school had a strong distaste for SHIELD and what it done Doug Ramsey was profoundly not one of them.

The few times he had volunteered for the SHIELD sponsored ride alongs he had had great times, aided he was sure by the fact that one of his closest friends in the world, a former X-student Teddy Kaplan-Altman now worked for SHELD. It was Teddy Doug imagined who had recommenders his particular service set for this problem, though Doug couldn't be one hundred percent sure on that. SHIELD did have documentation on all registered mutants, and what their abilities were so it could have been as simple as typing what they were looking for in a compute and it spewing out his name. Regardless, it didn't much matter to him. He simply loved being here and loved the prospect of being needed.

Having a very non-defensive power often limited Cypher's involvement in missions. Against villains who could raise buildings with the a stroke of their hands or create blazing infernos with a single thought being able to speak and write any language wasn't going to do a whole lot of good unless he was going to pull a Wile E Coyote and write a sign in ancient hebrew that translated to Help. before he fell off a cliff. He had terrific computer skills, was great at code writing and cracking as well as hacking into almost any system in the world and his fighting skills had improved dramatically since he learned how to utilize his skill of translating all language into picking up signals in body language and predicting his opponents next move in a fight, but even in all that he was still a novice. On the great X-men chain Doug knew that while his power set was valuable it was also pretty niche when you looked at some of the villains the team was forced to go up against. So something like this? A situation where the Us Government's top defense agency SHIELD needed someone like him; oh wow it was enough to make him shine from the inside out and also pee. Ever since the request had come in Doug found his nervous excitement coupled with fear had led to the need to empty his bladder a lot. It had also led to the translator bitting his nails which bring us back to the present and the damn hang nail that was driving him out of his mind.

If he could just get a little bit closer....almost... he could feel his skin split open a loyal by the edge of the nail bed but he pushed the hot go any pain out of his head as he he reached with his teeth, he could feel the tip of the small shrapnel dangle between his bits, teasing it almost like a lover just playing with the edges, but he wouldn't be denied this time. No, this ended here and now. He could feel it, he had it, biting told hard he sent a small quick prayer to heaven and then with now more then a speck firmly grippe between his teeth he pulled.

And out it came; a small almost flame shaped piece of nail drizzled with blood.

"Frack Yeah!" he explained spitting the hangnail out and bringing his now bleeding finger to his mouth he began to suck on the injured party to staunch the bleeding. The agent's stopped an looked back at him. Doug, just started back. What? They'd never had a hangnail before.


They handed him a large folder, which he skimmed through quickly, his mind grabbing out a few words here and there. It was the pictures he saw that troubled Doug the most. For all his belief in the need of agencies like SHIELD and law and the need to abide by the law Doug was fervently anti- torture and anti-violence. He understood the need for self defense when it called for it, but by nature and maybe because of his powers he strongly believed in the power of diplomacy. True, things couldn't always be settled by words but the young translator believed that if more people talked first and brought the fist last there would be far less graves and battlefields out there.

Having spent time in the Savage Land Doug had been introduced and welcomed into a lot of various tribes and communities. Each, he knew, had their own tongue, their own stance and style; some were passive others brutal; all had been respectable ... to a degree. They had allowed the X-men to stay there, keep amp and make refuge, but always under the terns that it was temporary. They did not particularly care for these outsiders with their strange garbs and strange abilities; some who took to the sky sand flew like gods and others who could could things like dark warlocks and witches. It had been Doug who had been brought in to speak for the X-men to these individual tribes, since he was the only one who could. Ka-Zar and Sha-Na had been instrumental in arranging the meetings and standing up for the X-men and Doug had found each group, each tongue and style fascinating? How could he not? His mind was wired to receive and translate language of any an every sort and out here in this stage mythical jungle it was like a buffet of languages, like nothing he had ever seen or heard before.

He had started to write a book, a rosetta stone of sorts, dealing each tribe their customs and stye of dress, how the difference in just a few syllables between tribes could change phrase like e"I being you peace." to "I come to burn your home down." He had poured over it night and day, and with the assistance of other X-men ha continued to meet with different Savage Land groups and even found caves with writing that predated the first Savage Land mutate that spoke of the Nuwali and the Skulls. The book had become his passion project, something of a little bit of an obsession. This, he realized was his chance to be the first at something, true he was no anthropologist or no Dian Fossey, but he would bring something back home that would allow people access and a way o decode lot languages and lost tribes and break down that huge barrier that separated so many people from each other ; language and then it hit him, a thought like a bolt of lightening.

If he brought his book out into the world, it would not just be the beautiful new and lost languages he would be bringing forth it would be the Savage Land and it's people itself. The X-men had been given respite here, a place to recuperate and gather themselves, but they had always known always been told that this was not their home, and they could respect that. But could the outside world? People were always clamoring for land to build on and over, just imagine what they could do with a place like this? They would ravage the land for it's resources, trample over it's people and their customs all in the belief that modern was best and strange to them was wrong for everyone. Creatures that were nothing more then fossils in museums back home would be rounded up and trumpeted around like theme park attractions. Doug could see it all "The new and real Jurassic Park". He couldn't let that happen. Sighing he tossed his book into the fiery hearth in the living quarters. Better for him to know what he knew in his head and keep it to himself because he knew as he boarded the X-jet back for the main land in spite of what they called this place they and the others like them back in the main lands wreath real savages.

"I had a lot of run ins with the majority of every tribe and community in the Savage Land, sir." Doug answered one of the very official and well armed men. He suddenly felt a tad conspicuous with his shirt that had a faded Allstar Snork on it from cartoon the Snorks and a light grey jacket with his official looking SHIELD ID pinned to it with his picture that had surprisingly took better then his driver license one.

"I even participated in a few tribal ceremonies and let me tell you you wanna talk about being some strange ......"

His voice broke off when they arrived at Vertigo's cell. Doug hadn't known exactly what to expect, but he hadn't expected this. A sharp pain exploded in his chest and behind it came a surge of anger.

"You buttholes!" he said to the agents and inside he desired to say more to scream out about injustice and civil rights and Geneva Code laws but mercifully the smart pragmatically part of his brain took over. He was on their ground, their turf; SHIELD rules; SHIELD LAW.

So he lowered himself to the floor and sat down in front of her cell and forced himself to look at this poor broken being. On the floor next to him was a file as big as a manifesto filled he was sure withe very horrible action and crime and deed she had done and was capable of doing, but all Doug could seen that moment, all he could read was the language of someone desperately in pain and hurting and confused.

"<Hello. My Name is Doug. Can you understand me? Or tell me what tribe you claim as your own>"

He asked her in the most basic language used in the Savage Land, it was the one known by most something akin to the outside worlds latin, it was the earliest language available and one each language had since built something on. Once she started talking he would be able to pick up her dialect directly and speak it fluently but he needed to earn her trust first.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a butterscotch and placing it into the center of his plan he offered it to her. He could hear one of the guards start to object and he snapped his head over his shoulder.

"We're about four stories underground, basically in a giant vault with more SHIELD agents armed with enough guns to take down a small country. Do you really think one Werther's Butterscotch is going to be the undoing of all this? Jesus Christ, man! She's not an animal in-spite of how you're keeping her. If you want my help you're gonna have to let me do this my way! That's if you haven't already broken her into a million pieces that can't be put back together.

"Did you ever think treating someone like an animal makes them an animal!"

More arguments formed behind him but he toned them out. He was good at that, another fantastic trick he had picked up from years of dinner parties and fancy events his parents had dragged him too instead he just focused on the broken being before him and as the panel opened where her food and water were used through he dropped the piece of candy inside watching as he florescent light above made the shiny gold wrapper shimmer.

"<What's you're name?>" he asked her again trying just a slight spin on the basic tribal language.

"<I know it's hard to believe but I'm here to help you, I promise."<
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Vertigo
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Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
[size0][Saw that you got the lurgi, get well soon luvvie!]

Vai really didn't feel inclined to move at first. Even her small rocking gesture ceased it's endless hypnotic grandfather clock tic-toc-tic-toc sway as she peered up over her own knees. The last thing she expected of this new visitor was for him to burst into a noisy flurry of annoyance at someone other than her. The former Marauder was used to much courser swearing but was fairly confident she could still pick out new insult words when she heard them. Her head tilted to the side; curiosity quickly piqued as she watched him drop low down to the floor in front of her cell.

“<Hello. My Name is Doug.>”

Greetings didn't vary too wildly in the common tongues of Pangea. Her eyebrows went up, practically disappearing into the mess of green dreadlocks hanging over her huddled frame like the leafy branches of a weeping willow. Her recent visit to the Savage Land had reminded her what it was to have someone else speak in her native tongue... But Garokk's chosen had not welcomed her return. They hadn't ever really relished her presence even before she first ran away either. She couldn't remember the last time someone had addressed her civilly on her own terms way this outlander did. Her features crumpled, the work of SHIELD's psi-division exacerbating what was already a hopelessly fractured long-term memory; a copy of a copy of a copy that ached when she prodded at it. Her legs slowly unfurled from her bunk, bare feet lowering cautiously to the floor. “You are Doog?” she checked in English, pointing at him, unable to quite believe her ears.

“<Something you something me? Something tell me something tribe you something-something?>”

He spoke like the slaves her original tribe had kept, usually women or adolescents, prisoners of conquest with the basic building blocks for their captors' dialect before they'd adjusted and assimilated. She squinted, trying to fathom what he wanted. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a butterscotch and placing it into the centre of his plan he offered it to her. She leaned forwards, neck craning to inspect. But when one of the guards made a noise to object she pulled herself back onto the bunk and glared angrily at him, a vicious guttural noise forcing its way out of her like a bark. It was gratifying that Doog seemed equally annoyed, invoking an outlander god in his admonishment. The guard swayed momentarily, caught between the hesitation caused by Cypher and Vertigo's angry hypnotic glare. Even with the null tech dialled up to eleven, traces of the little clone's powers bled through, subtle hints of all the engineering her mutation had gone through in Sinister's hands.

“If you want my help you're gonna have to let me do this my way! That's if you haven't already broken her into a million pieces that can't be put back together.”

“Uh, you get who you're talking too, right?” The other guard asked incredulously. “There's footage of her from the Gulag 'fore it got levelled. Little mutie freak bit a nurse and tore her throat open! She-”

“And you get who you're talking to right now?” Governor West cut the agent off abruptly. He was deeply unimpressed that a member of his own staff would be tossing the m-word around so casually, especially in front of an Xavier Institute alumni.

“Did you ever think treating someone like an animal makes them an animal!”

“If we were treating her like an animal we'd have put that rabid bitch down months ago.”

“Agent Taylor, that is about all I'm gonna tolerate out of you!” The governor made his muttered apologies and moved the two armed guards back a respectful distance, giving the pair a thorough dressing down at a volume that wouldn't interfere with what Cypher had been brought in for.

Vertigo watched the whole exchange playing out with keen interest. After her powers manifested even her own people had treated her like a beast, too afraid to let her be anything but an attack dog kept in a kennel. Life with Sinister had been better but still not ideal. It was only after talking to mutants like Mellencamp, Toxin and Feral that she'd understood just how unacceptable her treatment should have been. She still had problems expecting much better of those outside her Sanctuary cohorts. That this outlander playing with her native language should argue the same case was intriguing.

A glint of light on a shiny wrapper suddenly snapped her focus away from the arguing flatscans. The candy Doog had produced tumbled a few turns along the concrete floor and came to rest. Pushed beyond the bulletproof glass holding her back, it lay there for the taking. And if there was one thing that could always grab Vai's attention, it was food, especially sugar. She uncurled again and lowered herself onto the floor, eyes flickering between the gaudy morsel and 'Doog' just in case it was some kind of trick. She moved forwards like an ape, knuckles and the balls of her feet taking her weight until she was able to pick up the butterscotch and inspect it. It didn't look like the wrapper had been tampered with. After a quick evaluative sniff she tore it free and popped it into her mouth like it might gain consciousness and try to escape. A wide grin illuminated her features as the first real taste of candy she'd had in months exploded over her taste buds. “Thanks to you.” she muttered in English.

“<Something something name?>” he asked her again, trying just a slight spin on the basic tribal language.

Vai scratched at her scalp, still a little dumbfounded at how any outlander could be speaking the way he did. “<I am Vai Ubanu...>” She tried using formal grammar rather than informal, with carefully annunciated words, the way a priestess or other public speaker might address a doddering elder. “<I was born of the Sun-People. But the Brotherhood are my tribe now. We are enemies of SHIELD so I do not understand why you would speak to me in the way you do now.>”

“<I know something-something believe something here to help you, I promise.>”

Vertigo tried to remain objective but the sweet taste clinging to her tongue and teeth were making it hard. “<Unless you intend to set me free, I fail to see how you will help me. I will not betray my kin, if that is what you have been sent to ask of me in my own language.”> She continued her ape-like crawl across the cold floor until she was pressed right up against the glass. Pale fingers splayed out against it, breath misting in places as she inspected the X-Man. He wasn't wearing the uniforms everyone else in the facility did. That was encouraging. Her wandering kaleidoscope eyes caught the dribble of blood beading on Doog's finger since last he'd sucked at the nail. She looked up at his face again, re-evaluating what position he perhaps held within 'the Fridge'. Fractured memories of Scalphunter driving toothpicks under an uncooperative mark's fingernails floated up out of the murky depths of her psyche like an answer from a magic eight-ball.

“<Do SHIELD have you here to speak with me against your choice?>” She frowned.
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