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xp_logsRemy collects his parcel. It's kind of disastrous.
"I swear, I'm getting a post office box from now on." Remy groused as Amanda handed over his mail. It wasn't really her fault. Tante had a tendency to send their stuff together, and Amanda had also gotten stuck with a lot of his Guild letters. It provided the perfect cover for someone who was naturally nosy too.
The box rattled from the broken glass inside. There was a faint musty odor too. Well, at least it hadn't blown up.
Amanda poked her tongue out at him. "Either that or collect the mail first. Thought you super spies were all early risers or something?" she said, leaning a little forward in her curiosity to see what was in the mysterious box. "But I swear I didn't break anything - it was like that when it turned up. Postmark's months old too."
Remy looked at the postmark and the return address. "I don't know a Stephanie Locus, but de postmark is a remailer." He said thoughtfully. They were often used to transmit mail to obscure their original point of origin. He received a lot of mail through such means, from their contacts and his guild associations. "Maybe one of Arlen's boys found something."
"To do with that whole Arcade thing, you mean?" Amanda asked, curiosity definitely sparking. Remy had been pretty reticent about the whole deal, but she'd seen how battered he was. "Or is there trouble with the Guilds again?"
"Always. But it's not dem." Remy tapped the top of the box, just realising. "Dey sent it to de mansion first. Ororo makes sure my mail dere gets rerouted here. Dis thing was shipped months ago."
Well, since it had been through the mail twice and the mansion, any dangerous materials would be defunct, crushed or dead by now. Remy grabbed the split on the edge of the box and ripped open the top.
An explosive cloud of dust erupted out of the box as Remy opened it, and Amanda jerked back, coughing. "Bloody hell," she spluttered. "Did someone go and send you the inside of their vaccum cleaner or something as a joke?"
Remy reeled back, holding the box out from himself. It wasn't necessarily a deadly chemical but that was little comfort. The cloud rapidly dissipated, leaving them looking at the box itself. The bottom half of the box was covered with white dust, pooled around shards of glass from what had once been a jar of some kind. Remy reached in carefully and picked out the metal lid, to the top of which a card had been taped.
"Happy Halloween. Loves and kisses, I." Remy read from it. "Merde."
"'Merde'? Merde doesn't sound good." Amanda frowned. "Who the hell is this 'I' person and why'd they send you a jar of dust?"
"Remember about last year, when de bete bleu got sick? De mutant responsible was a woman called Infectia. De same person dat sent me de box." Remy sighed. "Go lock de front door, and get everyone in de lounge room. I'll be dere in a minute. I need to make a call first."
"To who?"
"Moira." Remy shook his head. "World's authority on infectious mutant diseases, after all."
"Oh, bollocks."
Following that conversation with Moira, Remy has news for the X-Force team. As usual, it's not good.
"So, Moira says dat she'll have our test results back in de next five to seven days. Until den, we shoot ourselves in de ass wit' de supplies she's sending over once a day, and maintain quarantine. Dere's a couple of technicians from one of Frost's labs dat are going to turn out front entrance into some kind of sterilizing bay for packages and things, and some guards at the front so no one tries to drop by." Remy sighed and flopped down on the couch in the common room, tossing his phone on the table. Around him, all the members of X-Force were sitting in various stages of annoyance, worry or plain disbelief. "I guess de HVAC is new enough dat dey don't need to worry 'bout areosol transmission much. Seems Infectia's powers are best contact wise, and unlike in our tiny lobby, de stuff dat might creep out is too dispersed to matter. Which is good, because if not, it would be containment suits and de CDC for Christmas. De bad news is no visitors, no going outside, no contact of any kind other den de front door and only after dey decontaminated."
"Sounds just like Christmas with Dad when I was a kid." Pete leant back in his chair and stuck his feet up on the table with a slight grin on his face. "Being woken every morning to the sound of the dog attacking the postman, Dad checking the present for explosives, Mum burning the turkey while I nicked all Romany's chocolates..."
Glancing round the room, he added "Yeah, I know. Not what any of you would have chosen. So, anyone got any clever ideas for making this less gutwrenchingly annoying?"
"Drinking?" Amanda suggested brightly from her perch on one of the chair arms. She was less thrilled by the idea of getting regular shots than the thought of being stuck in the brownstone for Christmas. Although it meant not spending Christmas with Moira, Nathan and Angelo, plus the Pack, on Muir. Bugger. "Could be worse - the bloody thing could have gone to the office, and we'd be stuck there. Just as well you're persona non grata there, Remy."
"See, dat's what I get for listening to cops. I was ready to throw dat salope off de fucking balcony before Bartlet got in de way." He muttered.
Wanda sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, I for one agree with the thought of drinking," she said, sprawled out on the couch. It was going to be the first time she'd seen Stephen in far too long. "Oh, how I wish this woman finds a very nice girlfriend in jail because, really now, this was uncalled for." She glanced over at Amanda and grimaced. "At least here we will have our own apartments and, even better, beds. I doubt I could sleep in my office considering how full I have made it."
"I have pot," offered Mark happily, but his smile faded at some of the looks that people were giving him. He slumped in his seat and looked around the room suspiciously. "Um, I mean, no I don't. Why would anyone even suggest that I did? Jeez."
"For shame," Amanda said, in a falsely sanctimonious tone. "Fine upstanding young man and all." Then she added, sotto voce to Mark. "Housewarming for you, then? Could be fun..."
Marie-Ange was still firmly stuck back at "Until den, we shoot ourselves in de ass..." and remained staring at Remy. "Are you serious about the supplies? Do they have to go into our, uh, rear ends?" She shook her head sadly, and reached back to fidget with her hair. "I have a date tonight. I have plane tickets for tommorow night. I was supposed to go see my parents."
"It's a very good thing none of us are boring people or else I'd be watching Oprah all day," Wanda muttered.
"I've got a bottle of tequila that I'm willing to donate to the cause," Sarah shrugged and rested her chin in her palm. It's not like she had been planning on going anywhere anyway, so she might as well make the best of it. "I guess it's probably a good thing being around you all doesn't make me homicidal. Well, most of you anyway."
Moving from where she had been leaning against the wall, Sofia came over to place herself on the remaining couch cushion, Wanda's legs now placed in her lap. "Oh, between Betsy and I alone we can keep this place unconscious for the week, don't worry about that Sarah. Between the passing out, the vomiting, and if we get someone, I'm going to suggest Remy here, to be a frigid bastard, it'll be just like Venezuela and Chicago all rolled into one." Pausing, Sofia lifted one corner of her mouth. "I'm going to shock you all by mentioning that I didn't have any holiday plans either, other than enjoying the quiet."
Doug frowned. He liked the idea of being stuck in the brownstone just about as much as everyone else. He, like most, had had plans to go visit his family briefly for the holidays, but it wasn't really any skin off of his nose if he didn't go. It was more the trapped in a confined space with all of his coworkers that had him ready to climb the walls already. "Thank god for high-speed Internet connections," he muttered.
Amanda tossed a cushion at him with a grin. "You disappear into your apartment for however long this lockdown is, and I'm breaking in and dragging you out," she warned. "'Tis the season and all that. "
"Well shit," Betsy said, grimacing slightly. "Sorry. But I did actually want to spend Christmas outside of here of all places." And she had plans. She looked tiredly at the rest of her associates. "Someone better lose a foot, a toe, or something."
"Look, no one likes dis. I assume dat we all had better things to do den hang around wit' de people we regularly almost get killed wit' for a week straight." Not that it was the case for LeBeau, but he didn't bother to mention that. Besides, he'd just come off of his own convalescence in France, so it was really the first time he'd really been around in almost two months. "Moira said she'd try and get the tests done as fast as possible. Dere's not a lot else dat we can really do. Considering de last time I celebrated de holidays was by killing two diplomats at a French Embassy dinner in Morocco back in 2000, Remy think dat I'll leave de planning to de lot of you."
"At the very least, we cannot say that we are not a creative bunch," Wanda mused. "And at least we will be able to call out, or in Doug's case type..." She winked at him. "To those we would have been seeing." It didn't make up for it but it was either roll with the punches or end up sulking in her room. "There are more than a few things I can add to the cause of not going insane."
"And I can promise to use my high-speed Internet powers for good," Doug added, sticking his tongue out at Amanda. "I'm sure we've got some decorations and food, but I can order anything we don't already have. Just it'll be a headache to get it through the quarantine area, so try and keep the requests to a minimum?"
Using her foot, Wanda poked Sofia in the leg before putting getting comfortable again. "What say you that we put our collectivelly pretty heads together and see what we can cook up for this lot? Though I demand donations of food and drink from each of you, since I know I do not have enough in my fridge to feed all of us." She chuckled, "I do not suppose anyone would have a turkey in their fridge...?"
Pete raised a hand. "It's actually just one of those bung-it-in-the-oven turkey-with-stuffing loaf things. Not a proper turkey, and it'll be stretched a bit thin, but better than nothing." He looked around the room. "What? I was planning on being here over Christmas. So I bought some things already, in case something came up and I forgot later."
Remy and Wanda exchanged a look, and both of them started to laugh. "Very sensible, homme." The idea of Wisdom in an apron, carrying a tray of turkey was just too good to resist.
"Right," Betsy said, shaking her head. "If we're going to be spending the holiday together, I might as well inflict my complete lack of culinary skills on you all. And I have just the cookbook I want to try out."
"Oh, dere's one other thing. Who wants to try and explain it to de old guy downstairs?"
OOC: Many apologies for the delay. It's all the Yellow Griffin's fault.
"I swear, I'm getting a post office box from now on." Remy groused as Amanda handed over his mail. It wasn't really her fault. Tante had a tendency to send their stuff together, and Amanda had also gotten stuck with a lot of his Guild letters. It provided the perfect cover for someone who was naturally nosy too.
The box rattled from the broken glass inside. There was a faint musty odor too. Well, at least it hadn't blown up.
Amanda poked her tongue out at him. "Either that or collect the mail first. Thought you super spies were all early risers or something?" she said, leaning a little forward in her curiosity to see what was in the mysterious box. "But I swear I didn't break anything - it was like that when it turned up. Postmark's months old too."
Remy looked at the postmark and the return address. "I don't know a Stephanie Locus, but de postmark is a remailer." He said thoughtfully. They were often used to transmit mail to obscure their original point of origin. He received a lot of mail through such means, from their contacts and his guild associations. "Maybe one of Arlen's boys found something."
"To do with that whole Arcade thing, you mean?" Amanda asked, curiosity definitely sparking. Remy had been pretty reticent about the whole deal, but she'd seen how battered he was. "Or is there trouble with the Guilds again?"
"Always. But it's not dem." Remy tapped the top of the box, just realising. "Dey sent it to de mansion first. Ororo makes sure my mail dere gets rerouted here. Dis thing was shipped months ago."
Well, since it had been through the mail twice and the mansion, any dangerous materials would be defunct, crushed or dead by now. Remy grabbed the split on the edge of the box and ripped open the top.
An explosive cloud of dust erupted out of the box as Remy opened it, and Amanda jerked back, coughing. "Bloody hell," she spluttered. "Did someone go and send you the inside of their vaccum cleaner or something as a joke?"
Remy reeled back, holding the box out from himself. It wasn't necessarily a deadly chemical but that was little comfort. The cloud rapidly dissipated, leaving them looking at the box itself. The bottom half of the box was covered with white dust, pooled around shards of glass from what had once been a jar of some kind. Remy reached in carefully and picked out the metal lid, to the top of which a card had been taped.
"Happy Halloween. Loves and kisses, I." Remy read from it. "Merde."
"'Merde'? Merde doesn't sound good." Amanda frowned. "Who the hell is this 'I' person and why'd they send you a jar of dust?"
"Remember about last year, when de bete bleu got sick? De mutant responsible was a woman called Infectia. De same person dat sent me de box." Remy sighed. "Go lock de front door, and get everyone in de lounge room. I'll be dere in a minute. I need to make a call first."
"To who?"
"Moira." Remy shook his head. "World's authority on infectious mutant diseases, after all."
"Oh, bollocks."
Following that conversation with Moira, Remy has news for the X-Force team. As usual, it's not good.
"So, Moira says dat she'll have our test results back in de next five to seven days. Until den, we shoot ourselves in de ass wit' de supplies she's sending over once a day, and maintain quarantine. Dere's a couple of technicians from one of Frost's labs dat are going to turn out front entrance into some kind of sterilizing bay for packages and things, and some guards at the front so no one tries to drop by." Remy sighed and flopped down on the couch in the common room, tossing his phone on the table. Around him, all the members of X-Force were sitting in various stages of annoyance, worry or plain disbelief. "I guess de HVAC is new enough dat dey don't need to worry 'bout areosol transmission much. Seems Infectia's powers are best contact wise, and unlike in our tiny lobby, de stuff dat might creep out is too dispersed to matter. Which is good, because if not, it would be containment suits and de CDC for Christmas. De bad news is no visitors, no going outside, no contact of any kind other den de front door and only after dey decontaminated."
"Sounds just like Christmas with Dad when I was a kid." Pete leant back in his chair and stuck his feet up on the table with a slight grin on his face. "Being woken every morning to the sound of the dog attacking the postman, Dad checking the present for explosives, Mum burning the turkey while I nicked all Romany's chocolates..."
Glancing round the room, he added "Yeah, I know. Not what any of you would have chosen. So, anyone got any clever ideas for making this less gutwrenchingly annoying?"
"Drinking?" Amanda suggested brightly from her perch on one of the chair arms. She was less thrilled by the idea of getting regular shots than the thought of being stuck in the brownstone for Christmas. Although it meant not spending Christmas with Moira, Nathan and Angelo, plus the Pack, on Muir. Bugger. "Could be worse - the bloody thing could have gone to the office, and we'd be stuck there. Just as well you're persona non grata there, Remy."
"See, dat's what I get for listening to cops. I was ready to throw dat salope off de fucking balcony before Bartlet got in de way." He muttered.
Wanda sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, I for one agree with the thought of drinking," she said, sprawled out on the couch. It was going to be the first time she'd seen Stephen in far too long. "Oh, how I wish this woman finds a very nice girlfriend in jail because, really now, this was uncalled for." She glanced over at Amanda and grimaced. "At least here we will have our own apartments and, even better, beds. I doubt I could sleep in my office considering how full I have made it."
"I have pot," offered Mark happily, but his smile faded at some of the looks that people were giving him. He slumped in his seat and looked around the room suspiciously. "Um, I mean, no I don't. Why would anyone even suggest that I did? Jeez."
"For shame," Amanda said, in a falsely sanctimonious tone. "Fine upstanding young man and all." Then she added, sotto voce to Mark. "Housewarming for you, then? Could be fun..."
Marie-Ange was still firmly stuck back at "Until den, we shoot ourselves in de ass..." and remained staring at Remy. "Are you serious about the supplies? Do they have to go into our, uh, rear ends?" She shook her head sadly, and reached back to fidget with her hair. "I have a date tonight. I have plane tickets for tommorow night. I was supposed to go see my parents."
"It's a very good thing none of us are boring people or else I'd be watching Oprah all day," Wanda muttered.
"I've got a bottle of tequila that I'm willing to donate to the cause," Sarah shrugged and rested her chin in her palm. It's not like she had been planning on going anywhere anyway, so she might as well make the best of it. "I guess it's probably a good thing being around you all doesn't make me homicidal. Well, most of you anyway."
Moving from where she had been leaning against the wall, Sofia came over to place herself on the remaining couch cushion, Wanda's legs now placed in her lap. "Oh, between Betsy and I alone we can keep this place unconscious for the week, don't worry about that Sarah. Between the passing out, the vomiting, and if we get someone, I'm going to suggest Remy here, to be a frigid bastard, it'll be just like Venezuela and Chicago all rolled into one." Pausing, Sofia lifted one corner of her mouth. "I'm going to shock you all by mentioning that I didn't have any holiday plans either, other than enjoying the quiet."
Doug frowned. He liked the idea of being stuck in the brownstone just about as much as everyone else. He, like most, had had plans to go visit his family briefly for the holidays, but it wasn't really any skin off of his nose if he didn't go. It was more the trapped in a confined space with all of his coworkers that had him ready to climb the walls already. "Thank god for high-speed Internet connections," he muttered.
Amanda tossed a cushion at him with a grin. "You disappear into your apartment for however long this lockdown is, and I'm breaking in and dragging you out," she warned. "'Tis the season and all that. "
"Well shit," Betsy said, grimacing slightly. "Sorry. But I did actually want to spend Christmas outside of here of all places." And she had plans. She looked tiredly at the rest of her associates. "Someone better lose a foot, a toe, or something."
"Look, no one likes dis. I assume dat we all had better things to do den hang around wit' de people we regularly almost get killed wit' for a week straight." Not that it was the case for LeBeau, but he didn't bother to mention that. Besides, he'd just come off of his own convalescence in France, so it was really the first time he'd really been around in almost two months. "Moira said she'd try and get the tests done as fast as possible. Dere's not a lot else dat we can really do. Considering de last time I celebrated de holidays was by killing two diplomats at a French Embassy dinner in Morocco back in 2000, Remy think dat I'll leave de planning to de lot of you."
"At the very least, we cannot say that we are not a creative bunch," Wanda mused. "And at least we will be able to call out, or in Doug's case type..." She winked at him. "To those we would have been seeing." It didn't make up for it but it was either roll with the punches or end up sulking in her room. "There are more than a few things I can add to the cause of not going insane."
"And I can promise to use my high-speed Internet powers for good," Doug added, sticking his tongue out at Amanda. "I'm sure we've got some decorations and food, but I can order anything we don't already have. Just it'll be a headache to get it through the quarantine area, so try and keep the requests to a minimum?"
Using her foot, Wanda poked Sofia in the leg before putting getting comfortable again. "What say you that we put our collectivelly pretty heads together and see what we can cook up for this lot? Though I demand donations of food and drink from each of you, since I know I do not have enough in my fridge to feed all of us." She chuckled, "I do not suppose anyone would have a turkey in their fridge...?"
Pete raised a hand. "It's actually just one of those bung-it-in-the-oven turkey-with-stuffing loaf things. Not a proper turkey, and it'll be stretched a bit thin, but better than nothing." He looked around the room. "What? I was planning on being here over Christmas. So I bought some things already, in case something came up and I forgot later."
Remy and Wanda exchanged a look, and both of them started to laugh. "Very sensible, homme." The idea of Wisdom in an apron, carrying a tray of turkey was just too good to resist.
"Right," Betsy said, shaking her head. "If we're going to be spending the holiday together, I might as well inflict my complete lack of culinary skills on you all. And I have just the cookbook I want to try out."
"Oh, dere's one other thing. Who wants to try and explain it to de old guy downstairs?"
OOC: Many apologies for the delay. It's all the Yellow Griffin's fault.
