xp_logs | Pete and Blaquesmith, in the small hours

Pete and his saviour start to make their plans, and it is not a pleasant conversation.

"Stabilizing the subjects takes time, Mister Wisdom. Considering the traumatic shock, you almost need to start from the most basic levels of the body and work your way outward." Blaquesmith's grotesque face showed pleasure as his fingers nimbly skipped over the controls, speeding through readouts and diagnostics faster than even Pete's trained gaze could follow. He had finally been allowed to enter the chamber where Blaquesmith claimed the others were, but it proved to show no more than three huge sarcophagus-like machines, without any indication beyond Blaquesmith's word whether or not his friends were in them.

"However, I'm confident that they are entering the final stages, and will be ready to physically accept optimization of their abilities."

Pete's eyes narrowed. "Optimisation? What exactly did you have in mind here, sunbeam?"

"Surely you can't imagine that these three possess the power to penetrate a highly secure facility and subdue Apocalypse, Mister Wisdom." Blaquesmith tapped the controls, and a simulation of the three mutants came into view on the screen. "I have been able to stablize this one, and repair much of the damage to his spine, but we can't simply regrow the wings that were torn off in the fight. It will be a real success if the young man avoids paralysis from the neck down."

Pete rolled his eyes as he swiveled his wheelchair around slightly to look directly at Blaquesmith. "'Penetrating a highly secure facility' has fuck all to do with power. I am not about to get these three to butcher their way to him, whatever fucking happens, because that'll just get them killed at best. And I'm not terribly fucking happy with the idea of doing anything to them other than just putting them back they way they were. But I take your point about the stopping power we're going to need for fuckface. So, what exactly can you do with these weird fucking devices of yours, then?"

"Tell me what you need them to be able to do, Mister Wisdom." Blaquesmith said, as simply as if it was no more effort than changing clothes. "It is highly likely that the Dark Riders are searching for Apocalypse's exact location, much as we are. The possibility exists that the SHIELD guards will not be the only opposition between your friends and killing Apocalypse."

"I..." Pete cleared his throat and started again, unconsciously massaging his right leg as he spoke. "Right then. Three of them. We're going to need speed, we're going to need the ability to take a fair amount of beating and not fall down, and we're going to need some reliable non-lethal means of putting people out of action for extended periods. These machines will let you fuck with psionic powers as well as physical?"

Blaquesmith nodded.

"Right then. Moonstar's the best candidate as a means of putting people out of action - she reads fear out of people, and she's got some kind of basic feedback mechanism - she can show people their worst fears. Can you amp that up to something they can't ignore, something that'll lock 'em down inside their own nightmares?"

"Neurological feedback can manifest into physical repercussions." The man made some notes, considering the potentials. "I will have to do some research, but empathy is both a physical and psionic power. Traditional mental shields don't work in the same manner with it. I think we can certainly find a way to amplify her abilities."

He tapped the screen a few times. "What's next, Mister Wisdom?"

"Speed." Pete's eyes flickered back and forth between the two other machines. "Guthrie. You said you couldn't give him back his old wings - what about new ones? Something faster, somehow?"

"Hard to say. Additional limbs are not a simple matter. The connections between the mind and nervous system are difficult to align. I will have to think on it." Blaquesmith said, rubbing his chin and peering at the screen contemplatively.

"Right then. And while you're thinking on it - if you *can* give him wings, then if you can weaponise them in some way, that would be good - he's going to need to be more than a fast distraction. Something he can use at range would be useful." Pete pinched the bridge of his nose. "That just leaves Garrison. I need someone who has some odds of taking whatever the mad bastard can dish out. Ramp up the boy's ability to take and withstand damage as much as you possibly can."

"There will be numerous physical challenges between him and Apocalypse. I can do something about his adaptability, to better prepare him for any of his potential allies." Blaquesmith said, making more notes with his gnarled fingers into the computer. "Do you honestly feel that these people will be able to do the job? I won't stop until Apocalypse is dead."

Pete shot him a withering look. "I don't fucking know, squire. You're the one who is holding us all bloody hostage and insisting it be done right sodding now, with these too-" he caught himself "with these *people*. Two out of three of them have fuck all combat training, and the third is a cop who believes in due process and justice and not slotting people however much they deserve it and all those things. So possibly not, but if the choices are you let them die, or we take a crack at doing this right now, then I'm going for the one that gives them a shot at living."

"Oh, you won't need to worry about them being willing." Blaquesmith's face took on a decidedly evil cast. "They will be whatever you need them to be mentally to do the job."

"I--" Pete's mouth hung open. "I---". He raised his hand started at it for a moment, then let it drop.

He took a very deep breath and when he spoke his voice was as tight and controlled as it had ever been, his words clipped, precise and delivered at a steady, almost robotic, pace.

"I am going to fuck off to another room now. Don't come after me, don't attempt to talk to me. You've got some idea what needs doing. Start, don't start, right now I don't care. If you talk to me again right now I will find a way to kill you even while I am stuck in this fucking chair."

He spun his wheelchair around and out of the room without waiting for a response.