xp_logs | Malibu: TSA Delay

Fun in the sun is postponed as the Malibu bound teens find themselves under the interrogation of a TSA Agent with questionable objectives.

The dim lights flickered slightly in the dark damp room. If it weren't for the eggshell padding on the walls and the large mirror- likely one sided- in front of them, the room would have been a dungeon. Just before they had boarded the plane, a man flanked by police had come out of no where, telling them they couldn't take off and needed to come with him. Now, several hours away, three of the students who should nearly be to LAX, were sitting before a metal table with an empty pitcher and a microphone on its egg-shell shaded top.

Victor flicked his tongue against his teeth, trying to tamp down on his rising annoyance. He shouldn't be surprised, really; this is why he and his parents had driven all over the country for vacation. Driving meant you didn't have to put up with people when they were jerks. Driving meant you could leave when people sneered at the green skin or the spikes. Driving meant you weren't at the mercy of some asshole TSA officer who thought being green made you a threat. It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly; you'd think his obvious mutation could have at least had the courtesy of scary powers to go with it, so that people had something to be afraid of when they looked at him. But no. He climbed walls. He had a long tongue. Were terrorists supposed to use his head as a battering ram?

He took a deep breath, trying to let some of the frustration bleed out. Once again, it was his responsibility to be a nice, articulate young man, to reassure people that he wasn't the scary Mutant Menace they'd read about. It was a role he'd played all his life. And as annoyed as he was, mouthing off to the TSA wasn't going to get him--or the others--to Malibu. He glanced at Johnny. "This is awesome," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Johnny sat slumped in his chair, his agitation having ebbed partially back in the last hour to make room for stark and aching boredom. Nothing to read, nothing to do, not even a decent conversation between the three of them to keep his mind off of the fact that they were being held here with no reason and no cause aside from some scales, a bit of unkempt white hair and, in Nick's case, bad luck. His muscles were growing anxious and it was difficult to keep from pacing. But that would seem suspicious, wouldn't it?

He turned his light eyes to meet Victor's and smiled tightly, "Best trip of my life." Almost as fun as being kidnapped, he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Neither Victor nor Nick had heard that story just yet and now probably wasn't the time. But at least in Washington there had been trees to climb.

Nick leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. As annoyed as he was that he too had been detained, he was happy that it had been him instead of some of the more hot headed students. The thought of things flying around the room if Julian lost control of his powers quickly jumped into his head. He looked at the two other students, and quickly forced a smile on his face. If he kept calm, this might be a little easier. "Hey, have you guys heard the one of the bear and the rabbit going to the bathroom in the woods?" It may not be the best joke, but maybe it would help tide his bladder over from exploding.

Victor blinked, looking over at Nick in confusion before realizing what the other boy was trying to do. "...Noooo?" he replied, raising one curious eyebrow.

"So the bear turns to the rabbit, and asks have you ever had a problem getting poo stuck in your fur? The rabbit says no. So the bear wiped his butt with the rabbit." As soon as he made the punchline, Nick quickly turned and faced the door again. "Do you think they could at least throw a roll of toilet paper, maybe a jar?" He nervously crossed his legs, although doing it very gently.

Vic giggled at the joke, his nervous tension making it funnier than it really was. His expression sobered quickly at Nick's obvious discomfort, however, and then turned into an annoyed frown. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, rising to his feet. A couple of steps found him knocking on the one-way mirror. "Excuse me, but could we use the bathroom? I had one of those extra-venti mocha chai soy frappachinawhatsits and I really don't know how much longer I can hold it." Or, you know, a chance to use the phone, he thought but didn't say--not yet, at least.

George Hinkle liked to consider himself a professional man who was deeply committed to upholding the rules. He had been doing this job for over twenty years now, worked his way up in the TSA until he had finally become an inspector. Over the years, he had lost a fair amount of hair, and eventually shaved it all off. But only because it gave a prospective terrorist one less method to attack him. It had nothing to do with vanity, of course.

George didn't like dealing with mutants. They were an unknown factor. One never knew if a mutant citizen's mutations were solely physical, or if they possessed abilities that could pose a threat to the other passengers. With ordinary people, you could remove the weapon from their hands, handcuff them, and generally, they didn't pose much of a threat after that. With mutants...they had so many potential ways to be threats. Ways that ordinary people did not have the capacity to effectively deal with.

Observing them through the one way mirror, he was certain that these boys weren't any sort of mutant criminal masterminds. But that didn't rule out the possibility of them working for one.

Stepping in, he let the door shut behind him.

"Hello gentlemen."

The thin veil of humor the three were attempting to keep up, bad jokes and all, was quick to fade as the door opened to the stern and broad-shouldered government agent. Hello gentlemen. Johnny felt his shoulders tense and his loose smile shrink. His bright eyes flickered to Victor, still lingering near the one-way mirror, then reluctantly back again. He forced back a sarcastic question lingering on the tip of his tongue about the man in the next room over keeping him busy with a lighter or a bottle of shampoo and instead folded his slim arms upon the table.

Vic dropped back down into the chair next to him, eyeing the man suspiciously. Righteous indignation was warring with the desire to get out of here with as little fuss as possible. "Can I ask what we've done to be detained for so long?" he asked as politely as he was able.

Nick held out his arm for a second. He knew that the only way they were going to get out of here and on a positive note, instead of on their way to lock up somewhere was going to be cooperative and play nice. The best they could at least. "I think what my friend meant was, hello back to you sir..."

"It's not a matter of what you've done," said George. "If that was it, you boys would already be in jail and that's that. The security of this airport is important and if a few people get delayed once in a while, so be it. I've got some questions for you, and if your answers check out, then you'll be free to go on your way."

He took a moment to stare each of the three in the eyes for a couple of seconds, then began his questions.

"So, let's start off with the simple ones. Where are you going, and how long do you plan on staying there?"

"We're on our way to Malibu for about a week. Heading for a bit of a vacation before we start school." Nick flashed a quick smile, trying to keep it courteous and hoping that the officer would be easier on them if he could relate to them somehow. Well at least he hoped it would work before his bladder burst.

"Malibu, hmm?" Taking a piece of paper out of a file and a pen from inside his jacket he began to scribble notes in a messy sort of shorthand. "So why not take a major airline? I mean, I checked into each of your financial situations and I have to say there's no way you three could have afforded private tickets."

Johnny looked down at the notes the agent was scribbling, tensing as the man's eyes shot up again and the interrogation continued. He didn't smile or frown (though the latter was harder to avoid and attempting to weigh the edges of his lips) and shrugged after a brief pause, "I don't know. Our friend invited us. I think his dad set it up."

"Mhmm," the agent said, not bothering to look up at the boy. Finally, he stopped writing and sat back in his chair, staring at the three of them, "And what plans did you have once you reached your final destination?"

"Going to the bathroom!" Nick blurted out quickly. He couldn't help himself, his bladder was about to drain through his ears if he wasn't let go soon. Crossing his legs uneasily, he looked at his companions for support.

"We're staying with our friend's family in Malibu," Vic said with exaggerated patience, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the man's question. "The Kellars? Maybe you've heard of them--lots of money, private jet, beach house in Malibu? We plan to go hang out on the beach. It's a vacation. We don't really have a specific itinerary."

"No plans to commit any acts of mutie terrorism then?" The TSA agent said bluntly, locking eye contact with the green-boy.

Vic swallowed, torn between anger, panic and frustration. "We're high school boys," he said slowly, "who happen to be mutants. We're not terrorists."

"Of course you are," the statement dripped with condescension. He looked up at the mirror, "Then you boys wouldn't mind taking a polygraph to that effect?"

Nick's eyes began to quiver slightly. "How long would that take sir?" He looked back and forth for just a second. "Not that I wouldn't mind taking it, but I was just wondering." He's foot was now tapping up and down quickly on the floor, the best distraction he could think of at the time.

Standing up, the agent smoothly put the pen back in his jacket pocket, "Oh don't worry, you'll all be going to the bathroom first. After-all, no point in taking the test if your mind isn't focused on it." With a mock smile, the agent strode to the door and pushed it open, leaving their files on the table.

"At least something's happening," Vic muttered darkly.