xp_logs | Log: Forge and Kyle - Who's Your Daddy?

After playing long-distance bomb squad with Doug, Forge gets to hear some good news from Kyle.

Kyle was normally a very mobile and energetic sort of person, not sitting still for more than a few minutes at a time unless he was napping or outright asleep. But he was practically bouncing on the ball of his feet as he stood in the open doorway of Forge's lab and knocked on the wall.

"Dude." His initial reason for coming to the lab was then almost instantly forgotten in the curosity of whatever it was Forge was working on behind the welder's mask and gloves. "Dude, what is that?"

Forge set the welding torch aside, turning the flame off and raising the smoked-glass visor to look over at Kyle. "This?" he questioned, holding up the still-glowing chunk of metal in his prosthetic hand, not noticing the red-hot glow or the slight wisps of smoke in the air. "is me trying to build a better boomerang. You know, those toys you throw and they return to you? Well, I was thinking of when we were fiddling around with those paper airplanes and I came close to breaking the unassisted flight record - by the way, the Guinness people said I should make an appointment to verify that - that if I applied the same aerodynamic principles to a rotary lift unit, then the only limitation to sustained flight would be the laws of conservation of momentum and air resistance and such, so I'm trying to design a boomerang along the same principles as the hull of a high-speed jet, cutting down air resistance as much as possible."

He took a breath, looking at where the hot metal had begun to bend slightly as it cooled. With a frown, he dropped the curved metal on his bench, absently whacking it with a mallet. "Of course, lightweight metal of the necessary ductile properties is nearly impossible to find. So what's up?"

"A boomerang. You're making a boomerang. You are so weird, dude. Also, dude? Your arm is smoking." Kyle was used to Forge holding into hit things with his metal hand, but pointing it out was just the decent thing to do. And the smoke was kind of smelly.

He flopped down on one of the bench stools and crossed his arms behind his head. "I totally need you to ask me who my dad is. Like, right now."

Arching an eyebrow, Forge dampened a cloth in a nearby sink, wrapping his arm in it and listening to the steam sizzle. "Whoops. I tend to turn off temperature sensors when I'm welding. I'll bite - who's your dad, Kyle?

"Haven't got a fucking clue!" Kyle crowed, throwing his arms out and head back. "But! It's not Victor Fucking Sabretooth Crazyman Psycho in Jail Creed!" He was practically hopping from foot to foot and entirely too pleased with himself. "Doc Moira called me about half an hour ago, and the DNA test thinger results came back."

Forge laughed, dropping the wet cloth to clap Kyle on the shoulder in congratulations. "Awesome, man. So that's what she was working on there. I know you said not to be concerned, so I figured it was just something with your healing factor or whatnot. But that's good news, even if who you are has nothing to do with who your dad is. I mean, look at Pietro. Not nearly as cool as his old man, or as insane. You, however, get to be less insane and more cool than Sabretooth, who definitively is NOT your old man."

"Damn straight he isn't." Kyle said, still grinning. "I gotta call my grandmom to let her know, because she said she'd go smack my mom upside her head if it turned out he was. Course, she might smack her anyway..." He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Man. Seriously, I think I felt like, joints I didn't know I had relax when she told me."

"Geez," Forge said, shaking his head. "But I've met your dad... er, step-dad... Tyler. He seems like an okay guy, if a bit... well, uptight? Sure has a mean three-point shot. Hey, how many times have people told me not to define myself by my powers? Same principle, buddy. Genetics don't have to define who's your family."

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah. You know, he's gotta deal with my mom. And man, you know if I married a lady, right when she got pregnant and knew it wasn't my kid and raised him anyway? I'd probably be uptight too." He had a lot of thinking to do, but it could wait a day or so, maybe even until the weekend. "Especally if he turned out to grow a foot in four weeks while he was in jail."

Leaning back against the wall, Kyle ran a hand through his hair, and then laughed. "My dad. Tyler. Whatever he is, you'd think after all that, a guy'd have lost some hair or something. Gotten fat. Taken up drinking. Something. But he just, you know, kept on keeping on."

"What do I know?" Forge said with a shrug, "For all their faults, my parents are thankfully relatively stable. Of course, the past two years of marital counseling is probably to blame there. But as freaked as they might have been about you, your parents care enough to make sure you're where you need to be. Your mom does sound kind of crazy, though. Don't hit me."

"I'm not going to hit, you. Jesus..." Kyle said, shaking his head. "I might throw some pizza bones at you though. I totally just hit my introspection and deepness quota for, oh, at least the next two days. Any more and I'll start talking like Marius. Or writing bad songs and sending them to Jay or something." He pointed out the door. "So? Pizza? On me? I gotta go celebrate not knowing who the heck my dad is."

"Pizza is always welcome," Forge said, shutting down his lab station and sweeping the remnants of his work into a disposal bin. "Hey, does this mean I can just start yelling 'Hey, bastard!' into the suite and seeing if you or Marius answer first?"

"Only if you want me to take back that no hitting pass.." Kyle answered.