| Stolen Molson and Unexpected Knowledge | |||||
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| What: Kid Omega and Wicked, ever attached at the hip, sneak out to the boathouse, where they know Logan's brews are hidden, and snag a six-pack... Only to find Cable is a witness to their thievery! Then, more things happen. | |||||
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Xavier Institute - Breakstone Lake - Western Shore
The northern grounds of the Xavier mansion border the western edge of Breakstone Lake, a large expanse of clear waters that is ideal for swimming or boating. Nearest the mansion itself is the inlet called Spuyten Devil Cove, where a small boathouse and dock have been added for the school's use. On all other sides of the lake the shore gives way to thick woodlands, particularly to the north. The road back to the main grounds lies along a grassy expanse to the west, while the forest provides a natural barrier between here and North Salem in the southeast.
It was Quentin's idea, of course. Isn't it always? The boathouse is plenty far away from the Mansion proper, the waters providing a lovely romantic setting that any young mastermind and his haunted sweetheart might enjoy. And everyone knows about Logan's beer stash. He goes out fishing and comes back smelling of Molson. It doesn't take a detective. And telekinesis allows breaking and entering without pesky things like fingerprints. He pulled Wicked into the building after him, intending to be quick, but, of course, getting caught up in teenage things as teenagers of a certain disposition are oft doing. As a result, after the amount of time for three kisses, a grope and what sounds suspiciously like a smacked bottom, although gender of impact is up for debate, Kid Omega and his lady fair (really fair, she hasn't seen the sun in ages) begin to exit the boathouse, their illicit wares in tow.
Wicked's had a better day today than yesterday. After Professor Drake dropped the ball with the whole Allison Debacle, Wicked's been predisposed to distrust teachers, overall. Of course, the only one she trusts, totally, is her sweet QQQ. The fact that he's a rather bad boy with very few morals doesn't bother her. She thinks the world of him and, no matter how others react to his prickly demeanor, no one can convince her that he's anything but fantastic. So, as he drags her into the boathouse, she giggles breathlessly as he wraps her up in his arms and kisses her with abandon.
Time passes, and she loses track of that time, as his hands are all over her and hers are all over him... And, the ghosts are keeping watch outside, so she can have a little peace and quiet. There's a squeal that follows the butt-slapping sound, and when the two emerge into the cool night air, Wicked's perfect hair is slightly mussed and her lips are pinkened and slightly swollen from the delightful make-out session. "I've never had Molson, before," she says in a sing-song voice, swishing her hair back and forth to get it to lie right...as Quentin closes up the boathouse.
However, once the pair slips free of the boathouse, they might take notice of a figure hovering above; legs and arms crossed in a casual manner. For Kid Omega, this might come as an unpleasant surprise, if such giggles and gropes distracted him intimately; the eldest Nathan has an incredible ability to disguise his brainwaves, and Kid Omega's casual sensing is likely well below his psychic shields. He's glowing blue with a telekinetic aura, gray trench coat fluttering beneath as his left eye glows orange. Most likely, neither knows who he is as new students. He's not on any official rosters, and has never been to the Institute since they arrived.
With sudden precision and speed, Cable aims to telekinetically grasp the stolen liquors and draw them up towards himself. "I wouldn't do that." One might expect the spiel on 'too young' or 'it's a bad idea' or something like that. Instead, "Logan will kill you. He'll smell who was near his stash last. He'll hunt them down. And he'll smell the stink on you both. ...alright. Maybe not kill. But you'd regret it. A lot."
Kid Omega looks up with a sigh, "Well, then, I'm probably already in trouble since my scent's all over the boathouse already. And If I'm going to get yelled at by short, hairy and maply, I'd at least like to have a mild buzz on when he does it. So, c'mon, be a pal and give 'em back. I'll give you a gold star on, like, my customer appreciation card. Anyway, don't you have better things to do than fly around trying to catch teenagers making out? Something about the saving the world or going to the store to buy more pouches or picking up a batch of Just for Men hair coloring?" he says. His posture is plenty defensive, but he also shifts subtly, interposing himself between Cable and Wicked. It's not that he actually thinks Cable's a threat. It's probably not even conscious on his part. Whatever bad comes of it, though, it's pretty clear he intends to take it on his head.
The ghosts had alerted her when Cable came up to the boat house, but she'd been so drunken with teenage romantic fuzzies as her exceedingly handsome boyfriend kissed her expertly, and his hands were all... And, she meant to say something to him, she REALLY did, but then...she kinda forgot. Because, there are whispers...that tickle her ears almost constantly. In fact, "QQQ, there's this girl out there who was drowned in the laayyyyyyyke----" she tapers off as her eyes lift to take in Cable's appearance. Oh. Right. Adult. She makes a sort of squeaking sound and sidles behind Quentin, gripping his shirt in her bone-white, bony little hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she breathes into his shirt.
Nothing that Kid Omega says seems to even slightly fluster Cable. Actually, it results in a smirk. Not a cruel one, or even remotely condescending. "You're alright." The bottles are then flung back towards the pair, although it's up to them to catch them. If they happen to miss, they would indeed shatter on the ground and seep into the grass. "I warned you. It's out of my hands, now. If you know what you are getting into, then it's not my right to say no." Shoulders roll heavily in another flicker of cape. "You'll find I'm not like the others around here. I don't really play the 'hero' game. Not like you are used to seeing, anyway. My perception's a bit... ...long-reaching. And complicated." A flutter of telepathy would flow over Kid Omega, but could be repelled with ease. Even if he's completely off-guard, it wouldn't even read his surface thoughts. Like a playful poke; Cable has already read every file on every student current attending. "So. You a full-spectrum psionic at this power level? And so young?" It's not demeaning, but impressed. "And you are attuned with necroplasm, right? Never met one of those." He eyeballs Wicked, distantly curious. "What can that sort of thing do?"
Kid Omega snags the drinks with his TK, a wary expression on his face as he drifts the brew back to him. He takes one in hand, letting the rest drift around into a knapsack he has slung over one shoulder. His t-shirt, maroon red and emblazoned with the words MAGNETO ATE MY HOMEWORK, is framed by a light leather jacket with an upturned collar, his skinny jeans trendy if a bit foppish. He, of course, parries away the toying poke, and gives the psychic equivalent of a raspberry in return, a slight, pulsating psionic "pbtpbtpbtpbtpbt". 'So young, he says. I'll have you know, I could have a driver's license...if I weren't on probation. Anyway, it's not my fault I'm smarter and better than everyone else. I don't even study," he smirks.
Wicked remains behind Quentin as he deals with Cable....who turns out not to be the kind of teacher who strings you up and hangs you out to dry. For now, anyway. He could easily rat them out, later on. And, since he has telepathy and stuff, it might be harder for Q to, like, wipe his mind and stuff. She peeks out from behind Q and takes a closer look at the older gentleman, with the white hair and glowing eye. He looks kinda scary, but...doesn't she, too? She's not really /afraid/ of him. She hasn't been afraid of anyone or anything since...it happened. "It's basically dead people. It can do a lot. It's very flexible. Necroplasm can be transparent or visible, solid or intangible... I can build huge ghosts out of others, or lots of little ones out of one... They can do all kinds of things. Spy for me... Look out for me... I can also send them after people... I dunno, lots of stuff," she says, shrugging a bony pair of shoulders. "I know it's not really well known, but I think that works more in my favor than anything," she smiles crookedly, a little creepily.
"Yeah. I was in your shoes, once. Born with a power others could only dream of. I didn't have the luxury of reveling in it, though. Besides, there's more than just power. More than just being superior. The difference between effortless and effort... well..." Suddenly Cable flicks up his hand, and in a microsecond the bottle of beer would erupt. A hundred pieces and a splash of alcohol falling to the ground. But what he says next might be peculiar. "Fix it." That probably sounds like an unreasonable request. It's busted and all over the lawn! Attention returns to Wicked, as if hassling Kid Omega wasn't worth much mention. "That sounds useful. If you learn to use it right. ...And dangerous, if you don't. ...Once more, very similar to me." He brings up his left arm, glancing to it with something close to disdain, still hovering cross-legged with a blue telekinetic blow about a story above them.
Quentin should probably be offended or upset by Cable's trick and, of course, at first he is, his brow furrowing in irritation as the beer shatters in his hand, sending foamy froth all over Quentin's hand. At the challenge from Cable, however, a gleam comes into his eye, "Keep the old man entertained with your frighteners while I work, spooky booty," he says, then draws his legs up so that he's sitting Indian style a couple of feet in the air. His expansive mind hits rewind, recapturing every detail of the bottle, the explosion, the arcs and fragments going in every direction, the foamy droplets spattering. And he begins to reverse is, slowly, inexorably...it will take a few moments, however, but it brings a smile to his face, <<Eat my psychic dust, Grandpa,>> he projects.
Wicked slips a bit further out of Quentin's body-shadow as Cable addresses her and notes the potential of her abilities. She smiles awkwardly--as though she's not used to smiling at people, so it seems a little forced, a little rictus. She jumps at the explosion of the bottle in Quentin's hand, her tawny eyes glowing in the half-light of the starry evening. "Bummer," she notes, at the same moment that Cable orders QQQ to fix it. That catches her off-guard. But, she notes the twinkle of determination in her boyfriend's eyes. So, at his behest to keep Cable entertained, she grins and bites her lip. "Okay, QQQie," she says sweetly.
Taking a few deep breaths, she relaxes her entire body---and seems to float up in the air with her arms held out horizontally to either side of her body tiny, too-thin body. Her head falls backwards with the last exhale and her body, except for her arms, begins to twitch and tremble. She inhales a croaking breath and her head lifts to an upright position, strangely still despite the jerking of her body. Her eyes are rolled completely back in her head--the whites standing out starkly against her black eye makeup, even in the starlight. She begins speaking and her voice sounds... sounds ethereal, and breathy--which is odd, compared to her previous moments of clairvoyance. And, when the words come, her voice sounds as though she's speaking with the voices of millions, all synced up. <<Nathan Dayspring... ......... Your favorite color is gray. .............. You like 80-proof whiskey, direct from Scotland, aged 80 years. .................. You have no living friends. ................. You dislike sticky foods, but you enjoy chewy, your steaks bleeding with the touch of a knife. .........>>
She doesn't appear to be stopping. Quentin is wholly unfamiliar with this. He's never seen Wicked do this, before. She begins jerking more violently, but her arms and head remain steadfast. <<So many deaths... ...... War... .......... Destiny is a chain around your ankle... From birth, you are cursed... .......... A virus survived, repressed...>>
Cable is observing Kid Omega attentively, and he can sense being judged most certainly. It's a genuine challenge, after all; something probably rare for Kid Omega, someone who operates on a tier that very little is. "Good. You have the finesse, telekinetic precision, and mind to do that feat. Not many can." The progress is going well, so far, but he makes no statement about rushing it. But attention is quickly grabbed by Wicked, who seems to be doing some sort of 'Seer' thing. The first number of statements cause him to open his mouth, feeling his temple to confirm that his psychic shields are in place. No. This is something more. He's analyzing his time streams. His reality. "/Stop./" This is said firmly, but not hostile. A hand raises to Wicked, a sudden whirl of telepathy meant to break her concentration. If she'd fall limp or something to that effect, he'd easily catch and ease her down. "...If you have a power like that... nothing good will come of looking at me." And then, a simple communication of telepathy into her own head. << And there are some secrets you cannot know. Not for my good; but my ability to try and /do/ good. >> It isn't scolding. She had no way to know that Cable was so intimately tied to the Beyond, and an attempt to look at his surface dragged her deep within. But it's clear he doesn't want it to happen again.
Quentin is able to still pay attention to Wicked, taking note of her amazing feat, but most devote the majority of his active concentration to the task at hand. Nonetheless, he feels a certain pride in both the power she displays and in the sense that Cable asks her to stop. The old man must've been impressed, maybe a little wary. Good. In the forefront of his mind, though, the calculations continue, vectors flicking to and fro. Tiny shards and fragments spin and align, puzzle pieces taking shape, one at a time, clinking together, infinitesimally coming back together. The liquid is harder, though, partially because he has to filter out the impurities. It takes a moment to devise a telekinetic sieve, a soft grid of TK energy forming in front of his eyes, tactile enough to perceive the granulated bits of contamination and remove them. Analyzing the contents is more difficult, still, making sure that he's getting all beer, no dew or stray water from the lake. With the container re-assembled, he begins the process of discernment, rolling droplets around, considering their relative weights and reactions to stimuli. He holds a finger up, indicating for Cable to wait, <<That's because they're not me. I better get some extra credit for this shit, or, at the very least, get out of at least one Beast lecture. Seriously, dude, we get it, you have a thesaurus, lay off, you're smart.>>
Wicked begins to glow with an ethereal light, her hair lifting into a swirling halo around her head as she drags in gasp after gasp of air to read past, present, and future, to serve as seer, oracle, and medium for Death and the Beyond. At the command from Cable, Wicked's head slowly turns in his direction and an odd smile curls her sweet mouth, her full lips. It seems almost...sad. <<Nathan Dayspring.... You cannot control Fate.... Cursed from birth.... Surrounded by Death.... Alone.... You speak to her mind, now, but she is not present, for we fill her....
<<The only harm that can come to her would be by your hands, from irrational fear, Nathan Dayspring.... Your secrets are buried deep within us, but they are known.... You cannot....hide....forever.... Worry not about this chosen one.... We will protect her from that which she must not know....>> Then, her head swivels oddly---too smoothly, too fluid, with her hair swirling around her head as though she were in water---to look at Quentin. Her smile is radiant, now. With the same chorus of too-many-voices, she says to him, <<Be good to her, or we will, as she would say, 'haunt your ass.'>>
Okay. Cable just learned a rather interesting fact now. Wicked is a far, far higher level mutant than he anticipated. Truly proof that the ratings can mean nothing; she would likely not place as an Omega, but the ability she just displayed alone is invaluable. << I mean her no harm. >> Cable offers, and such is true. Best to still speak that way, even if it's only in one direction. << But I'm already haunted. Haunted in ways you know, I assume. That threat won't work on me. Yet it seems you are a cosmic being of some sort. That's fine. So let's just reach an accord. ...Keep my secrets from her. It's best for everyone involved. And I'll do what I can to help her master herself as a conduit for your force. Fair trade? >> As for Omega, "Hank spent a long time learning all those words. Of course he's going to use them. But impress me, and I might be able to give you some more fun things to learn, instead."
Quentin registers everything coming from Wicked's mouth, cataloging it for later examination, almost making a little mpg for later replay. He has a lot of those mpegs of Wicked, some of them definitely not for public consumption. Still, he lets her do her thing. Wicked is Wicked, he never questions what she is, any more than she questions him. That kind of acceptance, full and total, isn't something he's gotten before. He'd thought he had it with his parents, of course, but...no, no, let's not go down that particular rabbit hole. If he needs to, there's a neighborhood in Omega City in his head where his parents...well, let's say they don't do well there. The project, however, continues, as, drop by drop, he separates beer from water, droplets spinning in the air to be checked for color and clarity before dropping back in the container, his mind even compressing carefully to refizz the drink, leaning in and exhaling carbon dioxide into the mouth and then forcing it down into the liquid until the potential is returned. Finally, he gives it a light spin and lets it float upwards for inspection. <<Fun and learning, I always like. Of course, as when a baby rides a dog like a pony, some forms of fun are frowned upon in this establishment.>> He realizes this particular pop culture reference will probably mean nothing to Cable. This only makes it more amusing to Quentin, of course. He loves perplexing the aged.
Wicked's head shifts back to look at Cable, <<Open your ears, Dayspring....>> There is a chorus of laughter, seeming amused, but not sarcastic---just wholly unconcerned. <<Did we not say we would protect her from what she mustn't know? We did. ....Your offer to teach her is no less than you would do for other students, if you saw the potential---no great sacrifice.... However, your offer is acknowledged.... Whether or not she wishes to comply is another story.... She is not tied by Fate as you are....
<<Omega level, schmomega level.... There are more important things.... She doesn't know half of what she is capable, but her soul shines like white fire, despite her name of choice.... We protect her anonymity and respect her decisions, as long as they do not harm her in the long term.... Since she is chosen, and her road ahead will be hard....extra eyes on her for her protection's sake are not looked down upon.... Hint, hint....>> her grin is almost mischievous.
And, then, the glowing light starts to fade from her form, and her body is slowly, tenderly lowered to the ground, though she's still held upright, because her head sinks to her chest--her hair a black curtain, hiding her face from view. Her arms dangle limply, but she remains on her feet...only by the grace of her Frighteners, since Quentin is rather distracted at the moment. Seconds later, she can be heard to snore...ever so softly....and damnably cute.
Cable extends a hand, grasping the bottle through telekinesis and bringing it up to himself, on the assumption that's what Quentin desires. He simply holds a hand up, eyes narrowing. Kid Omega can see it. The mind of an absolute genius, one no less than his own. "99.2. That's good. Unbelievably good. Your memory... that's one of the hardest things to learn and access. I'm shocked you could digest it without knowing the test beforehand to such a level. I'm impressed." Compliments are likely what Quentin lives for, after all. "But let me show you what I mean. You can do it, but you do it intuitively. This is what extensive training with a genius mind allows."
Suddenly Cable hurls the bottle into the adjacent wall of the building. It shatters, into more pieces than the original breakage. Yet before a single piece hits the ground, they are grasped in a sheath of telekinetic energy, hand extended. And then in a whirl, like a holographic puzzle being assembled, it becomes a bottle again in only a matter of a few seconds. A lazy motion raises a stream of alcohol from the soil, whirling like a snake before settling back within. He even carefully screws the cap back on, before grasping the neck. After a moment of focus, the seal is returned, and the liquor is back to where it was before, as if none of this had happened. He flicks it back over to Kid Omega, and he'd find it to be the exact same level as what he just did, simply in a fraction of the time. "Your method of accessing the proper memories, and assemble many components at once, needs work. It's a little slow. Your ability to filter out the liquor from the ambient surroundings was better than I thought. ...But now you know. There's someone here who can do it better than you." Just a hint of a smile. Then again, if he's to earn any respect from someone like Kid Omega, such a display is likely required.
"Trust me. I know all about protecting people's future potential." Cable murmurs. Assuming such would help at this point, he'd make a second attempt to snap Wicked awake with a telepathic jolt.
Quentin rises up to his feet. At first, there's a certain pouting expression, just a natural response to seeing his hard work get immediately smashed...or at the implication that he didn't do it perfectly. He knows what he did was amazing and damn hard to do. He doubts another kid here could do it at all, much less as quickly as he did. But, rather than being resentful, he actually grins at the criticism. That's what he'd do, after all, if he were in Cable's position. He never shies away from showing other people that he's better than them. Why shouldn't grown-ups be any different? It's faux humility and egalitarianism that gets under his skin. He knows he's not the best yet.
He just knows he -will- be.
At the second telepathic nudge from Cable, Wicked snorts gently and her head rocks to one side, her thin arm swinging out as if to slap at an alarm clock. "Five more minutes," she mumbles. But, slowly, as her hair is gently swept out of her face by her Frighteners, and her head is brought upright, she blinkblinkblinks her eyes open and yawns. "Oh, man. Hahaha," she says, rolling her head a bit to stretch her neck muscles. "That one really took it out of me! So," she looks at Cable. "Rare steak, huh? I'll remember that when I need to bribe you," she grins. Then, she reaches out instinctively for Q's hand. "Since you're not gonna bust us, would it be okay to....run off, and enjoy the spoils of our indiscretions?" she asks lightly. "That is, if you're done smashing them and taking all their fizz out," she adds with a crooked grin.
"Work with me. You've no less potential than Nate in this area, with the right guidance." Cable offers, matter of factly. "You don't have the problems I did growing up, preventing me from using the full ability of my powers. So I made up for it with raw technique." Although he gives a lazy scratch to the side of the cheek. "Just know I'm not like the others. I don't preach. I don't make long speeches. I'm a man of results. And I don't particularly agree with the brainwashing of Xavier and company, about how power is a responsibility, restraint a must, and the like. No. What I train is how to master yourself to the absolute limit, and then maximize it. It's dangerous." Although Cable points to the bottle in Kid Omega's hand. "I put the fizz back." It's true, he did. "Logan's going to find out. So. Prepare for that. Some life experiences are best seen and not heard about." He floats up higher, before giving a lazy salute. "I'm a free range instructor. I don't get assigned people like the others. You want something, track me down." Kid Omega gets a glance at that, almost challenging, and then he quickly bursts into speed; in a heartbeat on the other side of the Institute and landing out of sight.