2013.10.26 - Down with the Sickness

It's late in the evening, far too late, in many ways, to be still working. But, really, these days, the only time Jean Grey isn't working is when she's sleeping. Not, mind, that she's been doing a lot of that. She does sleep, mind. Just not a lot. And not restfully.

Upon receiving the message that Mystique had somehow obtained current samples of Pestilence's ever-changing cocktail of deadly diseases, not to mention a viable sample of his DNA for analysis, Jean agreed to meet her. But not at the school.

And not without backup.

Thus it is that two redheaded telepaths await the blue metamorph's arrival at the research lab Dr. Grey maintains in the city proper. She's fairly confident that, between the two of them, they can handle Mystique. At least, she hopes so. She's pretty sure that, working together, the pair can overcome the woman's formidable resistance to psychic powers, if necessary. And that's the main thing.

Thus, this moment finds the X-Men's resident geneticist leaning against a doorframe, between the office and the lounge, trying to appear relaxed and focussed as she waits... while locking down the roil of anxiety and analysis that's currently occupying most of the rest of her thoughts.

Rachel slept through the evacuation from Genosha, and then she was stuck on Muir when the plague hit the school. Lately it's felt that all she does is turn up too late to help, but just in time to hear the bad news. As a result, when the chance came to actually do something constructive? She didn't need to be asked twice.

Perched on the arm of a couch in the lounge, Rachel's finding it hard to remain where she is and not start pacing the room. Her restlessness isn't entirely fueled by her own impatience, though. Despite Jean's mental shields, at this distance it's quite obvious to the younger redhead that Jean's casual pose is just that. Rachel looks over at her and reaches out with her mind.

<< Shouldn't it be you telling me to relax? >>

Step out of the shadows for a few minutes, say hello to a (slightly unfriendly) familiar old face, and suddenly there's a lot of scurrying about as people try to get a handle on the most recent news. Apparently news of Mystique isn't good for the stress levels of some others out there.

It's kind of entertaining, truth be told.

All the same, absolutely no preparations are made for this encounter. Any fancy little tech or weaponry wouldn't hold for a second against the Phoenix, though above all else she's actually..not..here..to pick a fight. As unusual of a thing as that might happen to be. She has everything which she needs right within herself, including a fresh face for those awkward introductions.

The woman that approaches doesn't look like a mutant at first glance. She looks like a Chinese businesswoman, professionally dressed with a slender pair of glasses perched upon her nose and a pair of dark lacquered chopsticks tightly pinning her dark hair behind her head. Cosmetics are so expertly applied that they may as well be laser-etched upon her face. Either she has very high standards set for herself, or...

She comes to a standstill before the pair of X-Women, hands neatly folded behind her back. "I believe you are expecting me. Miss Sefton had phoned ahead."

Not many people out there have a psyche so wrapped up into knots as to provide its own natural defense. Three guesses as to who's behind the glasses.

Jean glances up at Rachel. A soft, singular laugh escapes the back of her throat. ~ With Mystique inbound? <> No. I want you as alert as possible. She's dangerous. <> ~

When the door opens, however, and the Chinese woman enters, Jean pushes herself off the doorframe and straightens, letting her contact with Rachel fade into the background -- though she doesn't sever it. The newcomer's presence is full of the static she's come to recognize as Mystique's personal brand of psychic chaos, so she doesn't need the metamorph's blue face to know who she is.

"She did," Jean confirms. "And we are." Her expression schools into neutral courtesy. She arranged a detente with Magneto and his people. Mystique does qualify. And she has something they want. They can afford to be polite, certainly.

"Won't you have a seat?" she says presently, gesturing to the leather couches around the room. "Can I offer you a beverage?" Yeah. Jean knows how to play the corporate hospitality game, an does so -- despite the likely amusement it provides their guest. "Or would you prefer just to get down to business?"

Rachel had meant her wry comment to help Jean take a breath and focus, but maybe Jean's got every reason to be wound as tight as she is. Rachel, after all, has never faced Mystique. So she just inclines her head in a sober nod and answers simply. << Understood. >>

It's all she has time for before it's showtime, after all. The mind that approaches is unsettling, Rachel's used to being able to read people with ease, but she does her best not to let it show. Her head turns as the door opens, her eyes track the woman as she enters, and she offers a quick nod of acknowledgement and greeting. Just so that she's not simply staring at her as she steps inside.

She doesn't say anything for the moment, though. Falling back into a routine that she employed with Jean what seems a long time ago now, letting Jean ask the questions while she watches.

A thin smirk creeps across the Chinese woman's face when Jean offers both a seat and a drink. The response that follows carries with it a shift in voice, from one tone into two, becoming less human and more ethereal. "There's no need for games, ladies."

Brown eyes melt into solid yellow. The hue of her skin bleeds out into a rich cobalt hue. Black hair becomes red. Business attire gives way to something decidedly less so, the white hue of her leathers almost a mockery of one holding up a white flag in surrender.

Wearing the same expression, she suggests "We are on a bit of a timetable, are we not? Although you're more than welcome to provide an introduction for your companion, I was not expecting the reinforcements."

Though, it would seem that she's quite amused by it.

"You all have your 'hero-ing' to take part in. I'm here on behalf of Nightcrawler, nothing more. If you believe that you are capable of restoring him to his proper mind and form then you are welcome to everything which I have to offer."

Everything up front and on the line. No manipulation is necessary, not at this point. Everyone stands to gain something by working together, just as they all stand to lose greatly if they do not.

Jean doesn't know a lot about Mystique personally. She knows she is Kurt's mother. And she knows she's a manipulative bitch and one of the Brotherhood's greatest assets -- Magneto's veritable right hand. Assassin, infiltrator, and chaos-bringer. In this case, however, they need to take this chance. To risk trusting her. Jean is gambling that there's truth in what she's been told about Mystique's obsession with Kurt: That the woman will do anything to keep her son from harm... unless, of course, it she that's causing that harm.

The senior X-Man doesn't introduce Rachel, even now. A trifle rude, perhaps, but she doesn't want to out the younger woman as either a Summers or 'Marvel Girl'. (They really need to find her a new name.) "I believe we can fix Nightcrawler, and the others," Jean says shortly, focussing on that aspect of the conversation. "Yes. If we can get samples of DNA to show us just what Sinister's done to them. Daytripper said you have some."

Rachel's gaze remains intently on Mystique as she waits to see how long the dance will take to be played out. She's half-expecting the other woman to accept Jean's offer of drinks, and she's prepared to be the one to fetch them if so - Jean doesn't need the distraction. She's a little surprised when things don't go that way, although Mystique's transformation is dramatic enough for all of it's understatement.

To Rachel's mind, this one seems to be all about the presentation. And control, of course.

Rachel smiles a bit at the reference to being outnumbered and gives a small shrug. "We come as a package. Two for the price of one." She guesses the reason that Jean doesn't introduce her, and doesn't offer her own name. A code name that wouldn't induce hysterics would come in really useful about now, Rachel reflects sourly.

What is thus far known about Mystique happens to be true. The lack of Rachel's introduction is easily written off as another matter of trust falling short. They don't want her here, that much is beyond obvious. That's part of what makes her presence here so damned -fun.-

The metamorph's arms fold together before herself, nodding once when Jean offers her belief on their ability to find some manner of cure, or a means of reversing the changes, or whatever it's going to happen to take. All the same she pins Jean's gaze with her own for a good amount of time, this -is- her son they're talking about here. Even if he rarely wants anything to do with her and she can't help but see him as a failure so long as he's working on the 'good' side, she's not removing her talons from the fuzzy blue mutant anytime soon.

"I do," she confirms in those 'slightly detached from reality' voices. "As well as every contagion he is currently sharing with the rest of the world. I do hope this is a secure facility, these are not the sorts of children you wish to have out running amok in the wild."

Sure, they already are. But, once they take care of these Harbingers and Sinister? No longer an issue. They may as well make sure that someone or something -else- doesn't pick up where his work left off. This stuff is killing mutants just as well as it is killing humans!

The comment from Rachel is soon met with that blank yellow stare, complete with amused smirk. "Of course." Any visual similarities aside, she teases "The collective hive mind. I'm familiar." Definitely within the company of psychics. They know her so well, already! The proverbial heavy guns have been pulled to the front line. Flattering, certainly.

Motioning onward with a hand, Raven inquires "Shall we?"

Jean gestures toward the lab, now. Passing through the door, she leads the way. It is a sophisticated facility, for all that it's quite small. It does, however, sport the very latest in containment and decontamination protocols because, while Jean doesn't typically work with contagions, working with the x-gene is hazardous enough in its own way.

It might be noted, however, that any evidence of whatever current experiments the woman is working on has been neatly removed from the space. Jean isn't in a sharing mood, when it comes to work outside the purview of their detente.

Rachel smiles faintly at the teasing. There's no need for her to remain grim faced as well as stonily silent. As annoying as her inability to read Mystique's mind is, Rachel's taking the other woman's words as a tacit admission that they've got her outgunned for the time being.

And after what Rachel saw in Genosha... she's not convinced that /anything/ would keep the Phoenix out of Mystique's mind, if the more terrifying aspect of Jean felt the need to show its claws.

Even so, Rachel waits until Mystique has passed her by before she moves smoothly to stand and follows the shape-shifter into Jean's lab, halting just inside the door.

As Mystique follows after Jean she is, of course, mapping the place out. Old habits die hard and there's no such thing as useless information. She's not at all surprised to see that the lab as a whole was given a clean sweep. Jean definitely has a good idea of the creature she's now permitting into her personal workspace. "So sterile," she teases. "A couple of potted plants would really lighten up the place."

Of course the yet unnamed mutant would take up rear guard, Raven would have been somewhat disappointed if they went through all of this trouble without covering the basics. It's true, the Phoenix alone would leave the metamorph as little more than a stain upon the floor in a one on one battle. Adding another mutant with yet unknown powers into the mix, heck yeah she's out of her league! Taking risks comes with the job, all she can do is try to make sure that no one reaches for the trigger, as it were.

Without waiting for the offer she breaks free from the pair and reaches for a glass vial to contain the first sample within. Labs aren't exactly foreign territories for her. The open mouth of the first container is soon pressed against her palm, watching her work for a moment before looking back to the others from partially over her shoulder.

Right. Time for the small-talk.

"Have either of you heard any news of the other Harbingers? Before you question how much information to share, I will remind you both that Magneto himself is a part of this battle."

The first vial comes away from her palm with a thin membrane perfectly sealed around the top of the glass, nothing more than a layer of her own skin morphed into a molecularly identical substance to rubber.

Especially after what happened in Genosha, Jean is trying very, very hard not to have to ever touch the Phoenix Force ever again. It's too dangerous and, try as she might to control them, her emotions are too unstable to risk allowing it free reign. If anyone can understand that fear, it's the younger Phoenix avatar. Thus, she brings Rachel along. And having her there means Jean won't have to resort to cosmic claws to rip Mystique's skull apart.

"Oh, don't worry," Jean says, in answer to the smalltalk. "We know what the deal is." She shakes her head now. "No. There's not a lot of news. Or rather: We know what you do -- that Pestilence attacked Grand Central and ran into you. We haven't heard of Famine's activities since her work with Pestilence in what the media is now calling the Midtown Massacre. I would expect that you are already aware of Death's attack on Hammer Bay. She left us a message that she will be in the Antarctic sometime in the near future, though she failed to tell us exactly when or where." It's a continent, after all. "I have no doubt, however, that she'll be there. As for the others? Your guess is as good as ours. What have you heard?"

Rachel remains not too terribly subtly standing sentinel by the door, and folds her arms as she watches Mystique go to work. She's pleased there's not even a twinge from her shoulder. Getting tagged in the battle was inconsequential compared to the main event, but the injury's been nagging at her all the same. She doesn't want to be shielding a weakness when they finally get the opportunity to act.

When Jean lays out the bare bones of their knowledge, Rachel listens. What she's heard has come in snatches, from multiple people, and she's acutely aware that she might have missed the details. It's the names Jean doesn't mention that bother her the most, though. Or one in particular, at least.

"And what do you know, about what they're capable of?" She asks, after Jean's own question, shooting the other red-head a look and a shrug. If they're sharing information, they might as well share, the gesture seems to say. "Conquest. Jackie Estacado. Do you - or Magneto - have anything on him?" She pauses for a moment, then shrugs again. "I met him. He's host to something that thinks it's a match for the Phoenix Force." Rachel shakes her head. "He didn't seem the minion type. I'd like to know how Sinister got his hooks in him."

"The Antarctic?" Mystique replies with a single brow hooking upward. "Is the purpose of these Harbingers not to spread their destruction upon the world's population? Last I've heard there aren't too many major cities or travel hubs to be found that far south. I would exercise particular caution there, if I were you. Heaven forbid you have to torch another continent, frankly I'm not sure the coastal cities would be able to handle the rise in sea level."

The only complication with having obtained all of these samples is that she's not all that great at identifying what each one -is.- She can tell where they're different and separate them accordingly but, as the next vial is brought into play, no labels for these containers are forthcoming. It's a disease lottery, though given that all of them should be handled with the same amount of respect that shouldn't be -too- much of an issue. Right?

The sickly looking ichor filling the first tube looks identical to that which happens to be filling the second.

"I have heard very little, which is its own cause for concern. We have two out of five which are making themselves quite well known and a third which is only known in passing." No more than what Rachel has to offer, it would seem. "-Conquest?- How uninspired," Raven lilts with a gentle shake of her head. "And yet full of himself." Hopefully he's really not that powerful or they've all got bigger problems in store.

"Personally, I have nothing. That we also have no collective knowledge of the remaining two is most curious. As..is one other detail," she adds while turning to look more directly at Jean. With a grin.

"You're looking quite sprightly for a dead woman. I do not understand what became of you both any more than I understand how it is that you've both returned, and why Erik has effectively lost several decades' worth of wear and tear. It is equally curious as to why he appears younger, yet you appear to be the same. Did he discover the wonders of anti-aging cream while you were both on vacation?"

"Mm," Jean replies dryly to Mystique, regarding the Antarctic, "the thought had occurred to me." Oh, yes. She's well aware that Monet is luring her into a trap. Just as she is well aware that the girl is a much more subtle planner than most of the others. Even evil, Nightcrawler is still a straightforward soul. It's actually surprising, given how manipulative and subtle his mother is. He must take after his father, instead.

She watches the blue woman disgorge the fluid effectively through the pores of her skin. A red brow arches. ~ Remind me to flag that talent in our database at home, ~ she tells Rachel. ~ If she can hold external contagions and DNA internally like that and discharge it into test tubes like that, how much more difficult do you really think it'd be for her to do the same thing into water or air supplies? ~

When Mystique turns that dark grin on her, however, the Phoenix straightens, a brow arching again. As the question about Erik is asked, however, the woman's lips twitch to one side. "I am Phoenix, Mystique," she tells her. "Resurrection is part of what I do." A faint snirk, however. "But Erik's transformation was his own choice. I had nothing to do with it. Don't underestimate the strength of that man's power, vanity, and ego of that man, Mystique... You, of all people, should know just how deep it runs."

If Jean has learned nothing about Erik in recent days, she's learned that his arrogance knows no limits... even if she has also come to believe that, as monstrous as he is, his intentions are mostly noble. Providing you overlook their megalomaniacal driving force.

Rachel's eyes shift to Jean for just a moment. She doesn't like the idea of Jean walking into a trap, even aware of what it surely is and with her eyes wide open. That someone would WANT to take Jean on speaks of someone who is frighteningly sure of themselves. Rachel just hopes it's colossal overconfidence, because she understands why Jean has to go.

Her eyes are already back on Mystique by the time Jean's voice sounds in her mind. << Or directly, to anyone who shook her hand, not knowing who she was? Not a pleasant thought. >> And since Mystique can be /anyone/, and just about the only early warning even a telepath would get would be their inability to read the woman's mind? The serious tone of Rachel's mental voice is no surprise.

Rachel frowns a bit when Mystique admits she knows no more than they do. True, she can't tell if the woman is lying, but... what would be the point? "With some reason." Rachel herself admits. So the Darkness remains an enigma. Rachel doesn't like it.

Rachel tenses fractionally when Mystique references Jean's death-and-resurrection. She doubts that she could have answered that question half as casually as Jean just managed. She's glad she didn't have to try. Jean's description of some of Magneto's character flaws do bring a slight smile back to Rachel's features, though.

"Indeed, I do," Mystique confirms when the discussion focuses around Erik. "Better than anyone."

That, in part, is why she's now out here rather than continuing to help the efforts in Genosha. To say that she's upset with Magneto after all that's transpired would be a gross understatement.

"We don't always see eye to eye," she admits in a somewhat softer tone. It isn't elaborated upon any further, merely a seed offered out to take root within the minds of the other two women should they allow it to flourish.

One vial gets filled and covered after another, the metamorph running through the same motions until each separate disease is safely contained within its new enclosure.

All eight of them.

The ninth she does apply a label to, uncapping a nearby marker and writing 'Kurt' upon its tag. Soon enough this one is filled with a sample which is sickly green in color, a nasty sludge which really does not look like it should ever belong within the veins of a living creature.

When this one gets capped off she holds it up for closer inspection, gently sighing while rolling the glass tube around between her fingertips.

"Well, Miss Phoenix, and fanclub," she starts in while looking past the vial to the others, "Let's see if you are now able to resurrect my son."

She would hate to have to kill him.

Jean would hate to have to kill him, too. Because, really? She doesn't want to have to deal with the aftermath of that -- either among her own people or any of those who call Kurt 'family'. But, as Spartan said: Kurt would sooner die than be the source of the misery he currently is. And if it's the only way to stop him, it will be done.

By one of them.

Her eyes flick across the gathered samples. Eight diseases? They know of... maybe six right now? TB, cholera, influenza, plague, small pox... That's five off the top of her head.

Damn.

She glances briefly to Rachel, not really needing to read the girl's thoughts to imagine what she's thinking. They have their word cut out for them. All of them, really.

~ Remind me, when we get back, to show you the light sticks Nate's friend Spartan left us. I suspect they'll be useful against the Darkness. ~ Because, really? What banishes darkness fastest?

"If I can't," she tells Mystique, now, moving to take the vial from her and place all of them in proper containment, "I'm sure you'll be among the first to know."

Rachel /is/ concerned about facing the Darkness again, and less than happy that Shift signed her up for that without discussing it with her ahead of time. But Jean can't be everywhere, and she doesn't expect the elder Phoenix to fight her battles for her. Which isn't to say any edge she's offered isn't welcome.

<< I'll take anything I can get. It seemed less impressed than I'd hoped when our mutual friend said 'I am Fire' to it. >>

Now having seen that fire in action, Rachel herself is plenty impressed. She can only hope the Darkness really doesn't know what it was trying to mess with.

As for Mystique's crack? Miss Phoenix, and fanclub? She deserves that much, just for wearing a red shirt with a golden firebird motif, but Rachel just smirks and raises a hand to flick an ironic salute at Mystique. 'Understudy' would fit, too, but Rachel's not about to suggest that one.

One more nod is given from the morphic blue woman. Whether such news would come from the X-Men or from her own eyes, she would make sure to be among the first on that list. Despite everything else going on, Kurt is her top priority. He'd probably be thrilled to know about that, if he were anywhere near being in his proper mind.

Yes, she still cares. In a twisted, psychopathic sort of sense. But hey, it's a start!

With her work for the moment finished she closes things out by adding a card with a stylized 'M' printed upon it along with a number she can be reached at, setting it upon the counter beside the nine containers. Because, yes, she -does- want to be a part of this whole Harbinger ordeal. Not just because of Kurt, though he's perhaps the single most important piece to the puzzle which has led her to dealing with the X-Men directly. Any other 'help' could have been handled while still flitting about within Magneto's orbit.

"This is all of the material I have to offer. Everything but his blood was taken directly from his sword, which should be the cleanest source. Relatively speaking, of course. Now then, so long as you both have my attention, I will extend the offer to be of further assistance if it is desired."

If it can be tolerated.

Jean sends a pulse of empathy toward her friend -- for such Rachel is, whatever their convoluted genetic/temporal relation. ~ I'd come with you, if I could. ~ But, she's got to face Monet. And defeat her, if she can.

She nods finally, to Mystique, however, telekinetically floating the card towards her and glancing at it. "We'll keep you in the loop," Jean actually concedes. It's the right thing to do -- by the detente and by a mother... however psychopathic that mother may be.

Besides, it eases the likelihood of another less pleasant confrontation.

A mental wince, quickly hidden. Rachel's not worried about revealing weakness to Jean - she'd never had let the older telepath in her head if she was - but adding to Jean's concerns, at /this/ time? Not something that Rachel wanted. She should have guarded her thoughts better. << I know. >> Rachel answers quickly. << I can handle it. >> She puts as much confidence as she can into those words.

Considering their recent mental chat about the implications of Mystique's little display? Rachel's quite happy that Jean takes the card telekinetically.

"And I guess you know where to find us, if you hear anything we don't." It's just a reminder that things go both ways, even if Rachel doesn't have a business card to offer.

"It is appreciated," Mystique admits to Jean with no hint of sarcasm being present. Then to Rachel, "Of course. I shall do likewise. Should all go smoothly we can all return to silently disliking each other in peace soon enough. Though I must say, you two don't have nearly so much to fret about over me as you seem to. If I must remind you both, I am not an enemy to mutantkind. I stand to gain nothing by directly opposing any one of you. Our goals may happen to keep us at odds with one another but I hold no quarrel with you."

Perhaps she does with some of the -other- X-Men, but these two? Naaah. Water under the bridge, and all that.

"Good luck with your research," she offers in parting before she begins to see herself out.