2013.10.26 - A Message Genoshan Apart

So there's a call at the Institute asking for Jean Grey; it's a man who identifies himself as Rokk Krinn, member of the Legion, down in Manhattan-- and he told whoever picked up that it was urgent.

Presumably there are like sixteen people listening in, Mansionside.

He sounds Canadian.

The call is transferred to Jean, who is currently down in the med lab, performing experiments. She frowns, somewhat, as the ringtone interrupts her concentration. Stripping off her gloves, she moves to answer it. "Jean Grey," she says crisply. "Can I help you?"

The voice on the other end of the line is reasonably pleasant, if apologetic. "Hi, sorry to bother you. My name's Rokk Krinn; I'm in Genosha right now. I've a message from Monet, for you specifically. Do you want me to tell you over the phone?"

Jean blinks at the northern accent and the polite words that come from the receiver. All thoughts of the tubercucholerabubonipox virus she was examining are dismissed as she registers the meaning of those words. "No," she says shortly, then. "No, I think I would prefer to hear this a little more personally."

The receiver still in her hand, a vague link, however tenuous, to the mind she seeks, she closes her eyes and lets her awareness skim over long waves to the island of the coast of Africa, searching through the myriad minds, dismissing the telepathic flies that try to impede her, until she finds the young Legionnaire on the phone. At that point, she brushes against his mind and gives him the distinct illusion of facing the woman herself before him.

It's only then that she hangs up. Once she has his attention.

And the Legionnaire's not so young-- mid-thirties, somewhere, but in costume nonetheless; no mask, obvious superhero. He's not got a phone anywhere visible, but where he is-- off out of the way of any paths, not getting in anyone's way while he takes a break between erecting temporary shelters. When Jean shows up -- 'shows up' -- he drops the hand he'd been holding up by his mouth, ring glinting in the weird light. "Well /that's/ convenient," he observes, then inclines his head. "She didn't /tell/ me any of this, she just put it in my mind. She wants you to meet her in Antarctica." There's a pause. It's slightly awkward. "I don't think she's feeling well. But she didn't kill any of the hostages, so..." Another pause. "I'm sure she's really nice when she's not... uh. Evil."

"Antarctica?" Jean doesn't doubt what the man says. She can feel Monet's tampering in his head. She knows the message was implanted and that he's faithfully repeating it. But... seriously... Antarctica?

Still, there are definite advantages to the location. For both of them, actually. Fewer distractions. Less chance for collateral damage.

Maybe Monet is in there after all?

"Allow me to see?" she suggests. She's trying not to be rude and tamper with his mind directly... but she wants to see this confrontation he's had and the message in context.

~ Antarctica, yeah. She'll find you, ~ says Rokk in his head -- and that feels rote, too. Then Jean's question about looking, and the man relaxes a little. ~ Sure! --thank you very much for asking ~ he says, fairly cheerful about the prospect of another stranger sticking her fingers in his brain, all things considered-- probably because she asked. ~ And if you don't mind -- no one else can see you, right? If you don't mind, I'm going to get back to work. Uh-- she doesn't usually use other people's free will as a courier service, does she? Because it's pretty rude. ~

There's only the subtlest traces of Monet, in comparison to what probably seems like telepathic scars across his psyche. He's thoughtfully put the scene at the forefront of his mind, so Jean doesn't even -have- to dig; he's also obviously used to regularly working with at least one high level telepath, things are very organized in there.

After the playback of the interaction between Monet-as-Death, two people from the future and one adorable witch from Gotham, there's something else:

A scene that never happened, in Jean's office, with Monet looking mostly bored but slightly annoyed. "Don't bring the X-Men. Or do. You'll likely end up hurting them, either way," she's telling Jean-in-the-false-memory.

Jean is... impressed, actually, but the man's orderliness and experience. She is curious, of course, as to who this other high level telepath may be, and where he got these scars, but she remains polite and doesn't snoop. ~ You're welcome, ~ she replies simply. ~ And, no. No one but you can see me. Go ahead and do what you need. ~

She lets her mind drift through his memory of the most recent events in Genosha. Her brows knit and her lips thin as she sees just what's become of the girl she swore to protect. And then that private message...

Jean's eyes close a moment and draws in silent breaths for a moment or two. Guess she's going to the south pole.

~ Thank you, ~ she says simply to Rokk, now. ~ I appreciate you delivering the message. I can set things to right for you, if you'd like. ~ At least, she can try.

Unbidden, a slightly overlapping image of a blonde woman-- girl? In a pink-- or is it red? and white uniform bearing a gold Saturn symbol flashes through Rokk's thoughts as Jean suggests setting things to rights for him, but it's abruptly filed away with the rest of the spotless desk of his mind. ~ I would appreciate that. We couldn't raise our teammate-- who usually takes care of things like this-- and I'd really rather not have any sort of lingering compulsion. You can also take the things she implanted, if any of it's a breach of anyone else's privacy. But the real memories are mine. ~

There's no antagonism, and it's a hastily added afterthought; he's also, apparently, run into overzealous helpfulness in the past, as well. He's also as good as his word; he'd taken off as soon as Jean said he could go do what he needed to do, and has been wrenching pieces of collapsed metal infrastructure free of debris in the places where the island took the most damage, and constructing new frames from them, near the medical facilities in Hammer Bay. Under his attention, steel flows like quicksilver. It is, in fact, a power set that for some reason makes people in Genosha nervous. But he smiles at people, and that makes a big difference.

~ I'll do what I can, ~ Jean replies, making a mental note to stop by the Leigon's tower sometime to introduce herself in person. Especially if she survives the Antarctic.

Her touch is gentle, skilled, and efficient. It doesn't take her long to sort out what's the man's natural memories and what were implanted. She doesn't pry beyond that, other to ensure that he is otherwise okay. When she's finished, she eases back, saying, ~ I think you'll be fine, now. ~ A beat. ~ I'm sorry you've been dragged into this, ~ she says now. ~ But I will do all I can to make it right... and to see that she does no further harm. ~

~ Thank you, ~ comes the man's mental voice, heartfelt. ~ Don't be sorry-- she at least picked someone who wouldn't flip out about it. ~

A second later, he's paused in the sky with a load of girders in tow. ~ And Ms. Grey, please be careful. ~

Jean pauses a moment before severing contact with the man. ~ I will, ~ she promises. As careful as she can be, at any rate. It's then she gently breaks contact, looks at the phone on the counter and runs a hand through her hair as she looks around.

"Coffee," she says softly. And leaves the lab behind.