Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Xmen Revolution. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
I'm Gonna Work This Job; Monet
Topic Started: Apr 8 2015, 11:00 PM (291 Views)
Henry Orchard
Unregistered

MARCH 21st


The Institute had for the longest time occupied a certain, almost paradoxical position among Henry’s many perfectly level headed opinions. In some respects it was on a pedestal; a gleaming example of the utopic mutant ideal from which everyone, even SHIELD, could and should aspire to. In other respects that pedestal was all the way up on butt mountain because the X-men were mean and dressed funny and were dumb and weren’t all that cool at all like everyone says.

Matters were not helped by his previous encounter with some of their premier X-Persons. Wagner, in particular, was a concern because how was that conversation going to go? Hey, remember that time you went crazy and we had a teleporting knife fight in a terrifying murder basement? Fun times.

Fortunately, the first day of this “career weekend” was winding down and nothing of the sort had come to pass. Henry took that as a win and hoped that it might go some way to squaring things with the Directorship.

Things had been bad for a long time but the incident at Sanctuary had pushed him over the edge, or perhaps he’d stepped off it himself, but either way he’d fallen hard since then. He’d given the brass every opportunity to dump his sorry carcass, insubordination, dereliction of duty, and compromised emotional and mental capacity. He’d even thrown his badge on a couple of desks but the people in the chairs had thrown it right back. Eventually he’d gotten the message.

The last couple of months he’d been piecing himself back together, perhaps SHIELD had lent a couple of helping hands, either way he was almost there. Stable, useful, and maybe even effective. They’d put him back in the field pretty quickly and now he was operating perhaps even more frequently than he had before the Illuminati.

The only sign that maybe he wasn’t totally in from the cold came when he’d been explicitly barred from participating in the career weekend. He’d volunteered to run some sort of surveillance/counter-intelligence thing but Hill had been pretty clear that she felt his abilities were best employed away from the fragile and innocent minds of the wee baby childrens.

They’d put him on the security detail instead. It made sense, no one else on the team could watch the whole campus perimeter at once. A flock of disembodied eyeballs was at that time prowling about the surrounding woods and countryside, looking for purple robots and baptists with rocket launchers. Fortunately it seemed that there was a brief shortage of murder-hate in upstate New York this week.

He’d used the lack of imminent danger to emerge from the roost and see the school itself. It was a charming old building that put him in the mind of something that the National Trust might want to sell him a tea towel of. The interior was surprisingly mundane. Just kids going to and forth, between class and larks. Sure, some of the kids were nine foot tall and spoke by beaming their thoughts into your pancreas but it was all just going on regardless.

The only weird thing was Henry, who was a thirty year old man in a suit just hanging around. Realising this he took his badge off his belt and clipped it on his breast pocket.

“I’m not weird,” he announced to himself “I’m cool job guy.”

The incredulous expression of a passing student indicated that perhaps this was not entirely an accurate assertion.

“Hey,” he pointed “How about none of that face.”

“How about get lost, flatscan.” the student flicked him the v’s, and sparks of energy jumped between her fingers.

“Flatwhat?”

The student peeled off back into the throng of her peers and Henry was left to draw his own conclusions.

“What just happened? Did I just get bullied? I don’t get bullied. I’m a grown man, with like a job, and they let me have a gun even. This whole thing is turkey burgers.”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Monet
Unregistered

There had been a few interesting classes going on during S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Career Day fair, and then, there were several others that were less interesting. Either or, Monet was walking from one of the more engaging classes ran by Ted Kaplan-Altman. Ted held a connection with the school like Monet did. It was very contrasting, however, how their paths changed since she gave her resignation to whatever superior that needed to let payroll know that someone else was turning in their badge. None of that mattered though.

She made it a point to attend as many classes held by the militaristic organization. There were no dire reunions that needed to be made, but showing face was something that the former agent was keen on. Whatever her silent reasoning was, Monet never stayed in each class for longer than a few minutes, utilizing her privilege as a faculty member as a way to visit many of them. While she would have normally been in the city with her sisters for the weekend, she thought it was a good idea to let them see why she joined the group.

The halls were constantly bustling with movement as the day slowly came to a close. Monet maneuvered through the small crowd of bodies and found herself on the edge of a balcony that overlooked the first floor. It was there that she took notice of one particular man in a suit that did not seem to fit in. From experience, Monet knew that the same man did not seem to fit in any where he went. A single thought caused Monet’s body to rise over the edge of the balcony and cut the distance between agent and faculty.

“Hey,” Henry Orchard pointed. “How about none of that face.”

“How about get lost, flatscan,” a student replied.

A sly grin fell on Monet’s expression as her sensitive hearing caught the tail-end of the small altercation. She would be sure to praise the student at a later time, allowing pride to get the better of proper manners for guests of the mansion. But who could blame them? S.H.I.E.L.D. was either admired or hated by those that lived within the mansion; they were always willing to lend a helping hand, but always fell short of their mark. When your home was attacked more often than you could count and the police showed up after the fact every time… that typically developed a stem of resentment.

“What just happened? Did I just get bullied? I don’t get bullied. I’m a grown man, with like a job, and they let me have a gun even. This whole thing is turkey burgers.”

“I don’t believe you got bullied, but you did get served, as the kids say,” Monet replied, descending from the second level and hovering just barely over the ground. Her arms crossed below her breasts as she took in Henry’s appearance. “Orchard,” she greeted with a nod, continuing, “I had a feeling those gross psionic eyeballs were your doing. I’m very surprised you are even allowed so close to impressionable youth - especially using phrases like turkey burgers. What class are you teaching?”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Henry Orchard
Unregistered

Movement above. Henry tensed and instinct began to run. His heel lifted; ready to slide back and shift his posture into firing position. The fore of his mind cleared; impudent student forgotten and clear, sharp images dropped into place. Fractions of a second later his conscious mind caught up and ran the rules of engagement; identi - Monet.

The professional toolset was swept back to the colder parts of his mind. His posture relaxed, feet planted firmly on the floor, and his hands carried on past the holster into his pockets.

“Monet.” He smiled back. As she swept down from he noted that she hadn’t lost any of her flair. She never just made an impression, Monet St. Croix made an impact. Sometimes, literally. Always, figuratively.

It was good to see her. Partly because of all his colleagues the ex-colleagues were undeniably his favourites, they were signs of life after SHIELD. Although to be honest, really he’d remembered that she had a delightfully antagonist attitude which no agent since had really managed to replace. He realised that he’d missed the barbs. This might actually be fun.

“Me and my frankly sexy psionic eyeballs are doing a Let’s All Not Get Murdered Workshop, right now in actual fact.” he gestured broadly “One-hundred percent participation. Top marks all round so far.”

“So, I’d heard you’d wound up here. Little birds sink loose ships, all that. Correct me if I’m wrong, last time we were in the field wasn’t there this whole thing where X-People were trying to kill us?”

He looked around the hall, as if looking for eavesdroppers, and sucked air through his teeth.

“That’s got to be a fun a conversation to have with your new boss. Did that happen yet?”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Monet
Unregistered

The man’s smile was a weird thing for Monet to grasp onto. His presence, in general, was a weird thing for Monet to grasp onto, and that was what made the man unique in her eyes. He did things differently than an ordinary S.H.I.E.L.D. agent; he took risks and expressed himself in ways that wasn’t what she was accustomed to dealing with over the years. Did Monet have respect for Henry Orchard? Absolutely not. But her thoughts of him were more pleasant than say her thoughts of Maria Hill or Nick Fury.

“Me and my frankly sexy--”

“Pssh,” Monet added with a sly chuckle, shaking her head at the word sexy.

“--psionic eyeballs are doing a Let’s All Not Get Murdered Workshop, right now in actual fact.” Monet’s eyebrow rose just slightly at Orchard’s broad gesture. “One-hundred percent participation. Top marks all round so far,” he said.

“It doesn’t count if you are the only student,” Monet replied with an even bigger sly grin. Finally, she lowered herself to the ground, allowing her former colleague’s taller frame to dominate. Her confidence remained even with their height differences. Her attention was stolen for the briefest of seconds as more students filled the halls to head to their next point of interest, and when her brown eyes returned back to Orchard, “You see? Those kids are running away from your class.” She looked quite amused afterward.

She was able to judge from the facts provided that he was doing security detail of some sort. Well experienced in having to watch and protect certain civilians in the field, Monet was familiar with the duty. When someone could crush a 6 ton vehicle on your head and still be alive to tell the tale, it made sense to have that person on security detail. In Orchard’s case, it was the ability to scout an area with impressive range, which would help to protect the lives of the mansion inhabitants in the process.

So close to thanking the man for his participation, Monet’s grin faded when he spoke.

“So, I’d heard you’d wound up here. Little birds sink loose ships, all that. Correct me if I’m wrong, last time we were in the field wasn’t there this whole thing where X-People were trying to kill us?” Orchard said, taking a moment to look around and suck in air through his teeth before he continued. It was an act which irritated Monet instantly. “That’s got to be a fun a conversation to have with your new boss. Did that happen yet?”

“Hmm… I don’t recall any X-People trying to kill us,” Monet lied. She played along in his little game and tilted her head to the side as if to try and remember back. “Forgive me if my photographic memory is out of whack from those small experiences. However, I do remember you peeing on yourself when the Illuminati bitch-slapped your brain.”

“Have we recovered from that yet?” Monet continued sharply. “I believe we have some aspirin in the Med Bay if you are in need.”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Henry Orchard
Unregistered

Henry sensed that if he’d not touched a nerve then he’d come close. Aside from her abilities Monet’s attitude was the most dangerous thing about her. Push too far the wrong way and either she’d either flounce off or bounce you off a wall. Since both would spoil his fun he decided it was time for a tactical retreat.

He’d found that his eclectic manner provided certain opportunities in an argument. If he said something weird and a little to personal in just the right way he could help the other person feel like they held a higher position in the dynamic. Good for interrogations.

He even had a line prepared, something about ‘defence scent’ from special ‘battle-glands’ but as he opened his mouth he realised that the couldn’t exactly recall ever having pissed himself. It hardly seemed outside the realm of possibility it was just… which time did she mean?

That year had been hell. Half the the Illuminati had been had assailed his mind at one point or another, not the mention miscellaneous trauma; the Mad Bombs, The Child, and ‘Amity Hunter’. He’d been bitch-slapped, as Monet had put it, so many times that they were compressing into one long strand of painful memory. Sanctuary had, after a fashion, tied that thread of but tugging on it even ever so gently still hurt.

He realised that perhaps he hadn’t said anything for upwards of thirty seconds.

“Oh, er, yeah. No, I’m fine.” he managed, words half mumbled. “Thank you.”

He diverted his eyes from Monet, scanning around the hall for a conveniently signposted change of topic. Nothing. He scrambled around in his head for any sort of remark, because professional intelligence operators weren’t supposed to lose the ability to speak whenever somebody mentioned wee-wee.

“So,” he said, stalling for time. “How. About. Them uniforms? They’re pretty… something.”

Good save.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Monet
Unregistered

With her lips pursed and focus intent on the man in front of her, Monet was ready to respond to what was sure to be another sarcastic response. She waited for about five seconds before her eyes started in peer in Henry Orchard’s direction. What was this? Was he thinking up a quick response? As around ten more seconds passed, Monet simply shook her head in an incredulous fashion. This confirmed Monet’s belief that he was weirder than what she was accustomed to when it came to human beings.

“Oh, er, yeah. No, I’m fine,” he managed, words half mumbled. “Thank you.”

“Welcome back,” Monet said, her every intention to let it be known that he lost focus during their little tiff. Score one for M -- only if she wasn’t slightly concerned with what became of the man in his hesitation. Controlled when it came to her facial expressions, she did not physically accept the fact that she was concerned. The thought was there.

When he diverted his eyes elsewhere, Monet’s intuitive nature grew to a degree. What was he looking for? Back up? The interior design? Silently, she wondered how exactly the man’s brain ticked. There was something inside of her that wanted to pull the answer directly from his brain with the use of her limited telepathic talent. Doing so, however, scared her more than anything at the present moment.

“So,” he said, stalling for time. “How. About. Them uniforms? They’re pretty… something.”

“What was that?” Monet asked. She tilted her head to the side just slightly at the new direction Orchard made in their conversation. “Was that a transition into more craziness? I genuinely can’t tell at this point.” Bringing her head back upright, she shook it slightly before her entire body turned in another direction. A couple of steps were all it took before Monet spoke again. “If you are going to do that then at least do it while we have some caffeine. I don’t think I could tolerate you otherwise.”

“Tea, Orchard?” Monet offered. “I’m sure they won’t miss you for twenty minutes.”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Henry Orchard
Unregistered

“Tea?” Henry managed a smile “Well, we’ll see about that.”

In truth, since coming to America Henry’s good taste in drinks had all but died. Fieldwork had given him an appreciation for anything that was simply hot and ingestible, the best that you could hope for while hiding under a tarp from a north-eastern winter. Once in a while he would even subject himself to an energy drink from the bodega by his apartment, something off-brand and practically artisanal in its foulness. A habit he’d acquired from his last run-in with Jamie Madrox.

Still, being a nob about tea was an integral part of his cultural identity.

His assignments being elsewhere he was only vaguely familiar with the layout of the building and so, as they went to wherever the tea was, he took note of professional considerations. It felt a little wrong, calculating the angles and routes for combat in a school of all places. He had to remind himself of all the things that had happened here, that had happened to him, which might make this sort of thinking perfectly rational. Still, it didn’t sit quite right.

“You know, you’re not the only one to move on to pastures new and green. Pretty much everyone’s gone now. I never see the old faces anymore. MDIV’s Just a bunch of kids running around, being all clean and well adjusted.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment.

“But then, you’d never catch me putting on a canary onesie and teaching everyone the power of friendship. Ghastly things, and apparently almost entirely designed to draw attention to the personal area. Makes me wonder just how frustrated Summers really is.”
Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
Learn More · Sign-up for Free
« Previous Topic · Xavier Institute Archive · Next Topic »
Add Reply