xp_logs | Forge and Jay, Thursday Evening

Jay manages to track down Forge in the usual place, but doing something rather unusual.

He said he would be in work as soon as he could. They weren't too happy about it but he'd deal with that when he went in. For now, he went about getting set up for the evening, tossing his clothes into his truck and set off to seek out Forge. First, he hit the suite, then asked a few faces, which finally directed him to Forge's lab. And he should have known. This should have been the first place he went to look. Knocking on the door, Jay inclined his head, waiting for a call to come in before he barged in.

The door remained shut, but a whirring noise preceded a small sphere lowering itself from the ceiling on an articulated arm. A red-lit sensor extended itself, flashing a grid of red light over Jay briefly before retracting back into the ceiling. A panel lit up beside the door with a freeze-frame photo of a stunned-looking Jay before the lights around the door lit up and the metal portal slid open.

From inside, the sound of metal grinding could be heard, punctuated by flashes of bright blue light from one of the corner workbenches.

Jay was startled, taking a step back and before he realized what happened, it was up and gone into the ceiling. "Jesus Christ," he blew out a sigh and silently apologized to the good lord for saying his name in vain. Even if he did say it a dozen times a day. Wandering inside, he turned his eyes away from the bright blue light, hearing it sometime ago that if he stared too long, he could damage his eyesight like that. It sounded more like an urban legend to him than anything else, but he upheld his belief, even if it was passed down to him by someone who didn't have shit for a scientific degree.

"Forge," he called out over the noise and closed the distance between them. He looked all right. Not perfect, but okay.

Forge glanced up, squinting through a sudden shower of sparks. From a closer vantage point, Jay could see just what his former roommate was doing.

Forge was seated on - more accurately, strapped into - a large chair, using his right arm to type commands into a laptop. In front of him, a holographic image of his prosthetic arm, blown up to twice life-size, rotated in the air before him, sections blinking and expanding as Forge keyed in commands. But to his left, a set of automated tools were moving rapidly back and forth, peeling back fibrous metal muscle from the stump of Forge's destroyed arm and darting in and out with various probes and lasers. Through all the noise and sparks of what could only be described as some unholy marriage of surgery and mechanics, Forge seemed detached from the procedure.

Focusing on Jay, he gave a quick nod and smile. "Hey!" he called back. "What's up?"

"What the hell are you doin'? Aren't you supposed to be recoverin' from somethin' horrible that landed you in the hospital?" he asked, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. Instead, he leaned against the table, turning his eyes away everytime that spark of blue started up. He had this horrible temptation to stare at it like a solar eclipse, which was also bad for you. He felt like he'd walked into a bad sci-fi movie.

"Huh? Oh, just some prep work," Forge explained, tapping another set of commands into the computer. A set of mechanical armatures extended from the back of the chair, cradling the severed prosthetic that usually comprised Forge's left arm, crushed and mangled where it had been forcibly ripped away. Forge peered at it, reaching out to run his hand over the metal. "Damn, I'm going to have to get a complete replacement for the humeral support strut. I suppose that's what happens when you take on the big guys."

"Yanno, Ah don't mind that you're doin' this. No, not even mindin' that you're actin' a little.. uh--" A little what? Weird? No, Detatched? Maybe. Busy? Yes, that was it. He opened his mouth to say something twice, even three times but snapped it shut. "Are you all right?" He looked okay. Psychotically busy in that okay OCD way.

Forge arched an eyebrow, his hand pausing over the keys. "Doctor Voght says that the swelling around my brain's gone down enough to where I'm out of the danger zone, but I'm not to engage in any kind of physical exertion for at least a month until they're sure that I'm not going to rip the stitches in my liver. Oh, and I'm missing an arm. But other than that, yeah, I'm all right."

Shock slowly crept across his face, only to be replaced with concern that wasn't quite the same that he expressed for Terry. "Ah know you ain't gonna tell me what went on but Jesus, Forge. You gotta do this right now? Ever heard of bedrest and takin' it easy?" Even he knew when to just relax and take five minutes in his life to himself. It just didn't seem right that Forge was working like a dog mentally.

"I was in and out of consciousness for close to four days, Jay," Forge snapped back. "That's lost time. Amelia cleared me, that means the resident medical doctor thinks I'm just fine to be doing this right now." Another typed set of commands, and the automated arms began moving to work on the detached prosthetic limb, retracting and cutting away damaged metal piece by piece. "If you're concerned about my mental health, the Professor's door is open."

"All right. Ah ain't your mother," Jay held up his hands in defense, letting them drop to his thighs and as an afterthought, shoved them into his jean pockets. "Ah'm just more concerned with what went on. Ter's acting funny and you're... kinda lookin' busy." That was the best way he could describe it. Busy in that frantic way that needed a distraction. Maybe this was all in his head and he assumed Forge wasn't so well. God, if they would just tell him.

"Rust never sleeps," Forge quoted. "As for what went on? Brotherhood ambush, plane crash, some quality time with a big Hungarian psychopath. I hit him with an entire small town power grid, he tore my arm off and threw me into a 7-11. Good times."

"Shit. But you're all right now, right?" Through a 7-11? Who wouldn't be? "Yanno, that's why Ah don't join the team. Cause Ah'd get my ass kicked, Ah'd heal and get it kicked again without causin' a dent." He picked up a piece of metal and leaned forward over the table, careful not to be too close to Forge as he worked. "Going through a 7-11 gives you a whole new meanin' to flyin' lessons, don't it?"

Forge shook his head. "I said into, not through. Ruptured something in my liver and spleen and I nearly bled out before Clarice got me to an ER. That was after he punched me in the face, fractured my cheekbone, and rattled my brain around inside my skull." He pointed to his cheek where the swelling and bruises were still prominent, lit oddly by the glowing sparks from the machines to his left. "But it was the right thing to do."

"All right, you know what? You need to stop right now. Ah hate to be a mother hen, but ya need time to heal. This," he gestured to what Foge what doing, "This here is like buildin' a car the next day. You ain't got no healin' factor." He was sure that was painfully obvious. "You're overdoin' it and your body ain't gonna thank you." The bleeding out part worried him and he shifted on the counter, letting the metal piece drop as he stood up. "You should be on bed rest. Just cause someone says you can leave the hospital bed doesn't mean it's time for mental jumpin' jacks."

Glaring wild-eyed at Jay, Forge scowled. "You're absolutely right. I don't have a healing factor. I don't have the luxury of a speedy recovery. Perhaps I do need rest. But what I don't need," he growled, "is to hear about what someone who wasn't even there thinks is best for me. Your concern is appreciated, duly noted, and filed appropriately. But I have work to do. Some of us have priorities."

"Sure Ah wasn't there, but don't be a dick cause of it," Jay said patiently. "Ah don't have to be there to know what's good for you and what's not. Ah may be starin' a gift horse in the mouth when Ah say this but don't shove me aside like that. Ah don't like it none." He ignored the priorities jab. "Someone should be waitin' on you hand and foot, and you should be takin' advantage of that."

Forge angrily slammed his hand against the side of the chair and pointed at Jay, the movement mirrored by the multiple articulated arms holding various tools and instruments. "I'm not a goddamn invalid, Jay. This is recovering. What do you think I'm doing here, calisthenics? I'm trying to repair the broken stuff that doctors can't. I'm the subject matter expert here, I know what needs to be done. Once I get myself fixed up and mobile, then yes, I plan to take it easy. I don't need to be waited on hand and foot, but I know exactly how injured I am. I'm not stupid, Jay. I'm a genius. That's kind of like the exact opposite of stupid."

Would he be the only one that found all these arms pointing at him creepy? Probably. "Well shit Forge, thanks for that. Ah really couldn't tell the difference 'cause you're lookin' pretty stupid to me right now," Jay snapped back, unmoved by the anger Forge gave off. "What the hell's your problem, aside from all this?" he gestured to the shit all in front of Forge.

"Like I said," Forge replied, "not everyone has the luxury of a healing factor. You see it as a problem. I see it as doing my job. I have a security system to upgrade, a plane to repair, and not a lot of time to do it in. So, really, if the well-intentioned yet amusing lecture about my recuperative strategies is finished..."

Forge turned his attention back to his laptop as behind Jay, the door to the hallway slid open with a mechanical hiss.

Forge was being impossibly stubborn. Jay sighed and ran a hand through his hair before glancing at the door and then back at Forge. "Ah just wanna know that you're all right. You're lookin' all right but--" but Forge liked to act the part. He shrugged and took that as his cue to leave.

As Jay left, Forge cocked his head and gave a curious glance at his former suitemate for a second, then turned his attention back to his work. "All right, where was I? Ah yes. Hecatonchires 1.1 alpha," he intoned. "Begin installation."

The machines went back to work as the door closed.