http://x_tarot.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
x-tarot.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2012-01-10 05:01 pm
x-tarot.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2012-01-10 05:01 pm
Operation: Teenage Wasteland - Future Interrogative tense
When Remy stops by what is/will be Marie-Ange's office, she has questions for him.
Marie-Ange had been perfectly happy to go sit in one of the offices - supposedly hers - and read newspapers online after the "crash course in google" from Doug that she'd promptly zoned out of in favor of drawing on a piece of paper. She knew how to use google, and even if it was different looking than before, it was google. You typed in words and it gave you webpages. She'd used to write papers for US History when she hadn't even known who Andrew Jackson even was. It did give her something to do, and gave her a reason to stay away from the scarier or more annoying members of what was supposedly her team.
It also meant she could hide away and not think about the hemline of the skirt she was wearing or the tattoo on her arm, or how old the people she knew looked.
Remy rapped on the door frame, before walking into the office. "You find anything, Marie-Ange? Papers or you powers?"
She'd been a few paragraphs into a wikipedia article on the new president of the United States, and squeaked in surprise at the knock as she looked up at Remy. Still an older Remy, and she could just not get that around that. "I... It is really 2012? Nothing makes any sense at all here." She waved a hand at some scattered papers on the desk, and a sketchbook open to drawings of people she did not even recognize. "I am not sure I know what to look for in the papers. Nothing seems strange enough to notice when everything I read about does not make sense to me. There is a whole neighboorhood of people who are mutants? The city was attacked?"
"You going to have to get past dat, Marie-Ange. Ignore de details dat don't make sense to you, and look for de ones dat don't make sense to anyone at any time, neh?" He said, dropping into a chair opposite her desk. "Least you only ten years out of date. Some of dem think it's still de early eighties."
"Some of them think it is nineteen seventy six!" Marie-Ange said. "It is not the details that make no sense, it is all of it. How can any of this be real? I only just ... I only just knew I might see things in the future and this is nothing like what I thought it might be." She was looking at Remy suspiciously. "And no one can tell me what I did to be here, instead of where I thought I might be."
"You really want to try to understand where life took you?" Remy sighed. "You always were smart, Marie-Ange. Do you really think dat you could make sense of de decisions that you had to make at various points in you life from de perspective of a teenager?"
"I think I might like to understand some of it." Marie-Ange said hesitantly. "Remy, it is hard to believe you are even Remy. You are not the same Remy LeBeau that took all of us to a club and found fake ID's and made Doug wear a silly mustache." He certainly was not the same Remy she had slept with. "I do not like not understanding things."
"Dese are hard things you asking." Remy shook his head. "When I was twelve years old, I was taken by de CIA and put into a program called LOST BOYS. Through a process dat killed most of de other candidates, my aging was slowed tremendously. Remy spent almost twenty years as one of de most feared assassins in de world, before dey shutdown de program, ripped out my memories, and sent me off to de school as an insurance policy in case Xavier ever turned out to be a threat. I had been a monster, and eventually, when all dose memories came back, I had to find a way to live wit' de memories of de person I had been. You got to watch it firsthand. Eventually, Wisdom, Betts and I started dis place, to make sure dat monsters like me were stopped before dey could reach dat level. Maybe dat's what made you join."
She listened to all of that, and all that registered was "You were supposed to have killed us?" Marie-Ange shook her head a few times, and finally flipped the pages in the sketchbook she had found. "That... when I knew you before, you... I cannot see anything for you, not at all. For everyone else there was something, but not for you, and that must have changed, because now I have pictures of you." She stopped on a rough charcoal sketch of Remy with a cane, one strange eye clouded. "Can I ask you what is maybe a stupid question?"
"Go ahead. You've earned dat."
She couldn't even articulate the question, just turned to a page in the sketchpad, this one was apparently mostly Remy, and showed him the sketch in pencils of a snowy scene, and the pair of them in a hot spring. "We... we never ... did we have some sort of... relationship?" Marie-Ange blushed as she asked, but it was the only explanation she could think of.
Remy shook his head. "De answer is weirder den de scene. Let me put it dis way, Marie-Ange: you never did anything dat you didn't believe in one hundred percent."
That seemed... well it was one of the only things that had made sense at all that anyone had said. "Is it a good future at least? Is all of this worth it?" She couldn't see how, because she'd turned into someone she couldn't imagine being.
"It's not a good future, but it's worth it." Remy said, nodding. "You wouldn't understand how strange de path is."
Marie-Ange had been perfectly happy to go sit in one of the offices - supposedly hers - and read newspapers online after the "crash course in google" from Doug that she'd promptly zoned out of in favor of drawing on a piece of paper. She knew how to use google, and even if it was different looking than before, it was google. You typed in words and it gave you webpages. She'd used to write papers for US History when she hadn't even known who Andrew Jackson even was. It did give her something to do, and gave her a reason to stay away from the scarier or more annoying members of what was supposedly her team.
It also meant she could hide away and not think about the hemline of the skirt she was wearing or the tattoo on her arm, or how old the people she knew looked.
Remy rapped on the door frame, before walking into the office. "You find anything, Marie-Ange? Papers or you powers?"
She'd been a few paragraphs into a wikipedia article on the new president of the United States, and squeaked in surprise at the knock as she looked up at Remy. Still an older Remy, and she could just not get that around that. "I... It is really 2012? Nothing makes any sense at all here." She waved a hand at some scattered papers on the desk, and a sketchbook open to drawings of people she did not even recognize. "I am not sure I know what to look for in the papers. Nothing seems strange enough to notice when everything I read about does not make sense to me. There is a whole neighboorhood of people who are mutants? The city was attacked?"
"You going to have to get past dat, Marie-Ange. Ignore de details dat don't make sense to you, and look for de ones dat don't make sense to anyone at any time, neh?" He said, dropping into a chair opposite her desk. "Least you only ten years out of date. Some of dem think it's still de early eighties."
"Some of them think it is nineteen seventy six!" Marie-Ange said. "It is not the details that make no sense, it is all of it. How can any of this be real? I only just ... I only just knew I might see things in the future and this is nothing like what I thought it might be." She was looking at Remy suspiciously. "And no one can tell me what I did to be here, instead of where I thought I might be."
"You really want to try to understand where life took you?" Remy sighed. "You always were smart, Marie-Ange. Do you really think dat you could make sense of de decisions that you had to make at various points in you life from de perspective of a teenager?"
"I think I might like to understand some of it." Marie-Ange said hesitantly. "Remy, it is hard to believe you are even Remy. You are not the same Remy LeBeau that took all of us to a club and found fake ID's and made Doug wear a silly mustache." He certainly was not the same Remy she had slept with. "I do not like not understanding things."
"Dese are hard things you asking." Remy shook his head. "When I was twelve years old, I was taken by de CIA and put into a program called LOST BOYS. Through a process dat killed most of de other candidates, my aging was slowed tremendously. Remy spent almost twenty years as one of de most feared assassins in de world, before dey shutdown de program, ripped out my memories, and sent me off to de school as an insurance policy in case Xavier ever turned out to be a threat. I had been a monster, and eventually, when all dose memories came back, I had to find a way to live wit' de memories of de person I had been. You got to watch it firsthand. Eventually, Wisdom, Betts and I started dis place, to make sure dat monsters like me were stopped before dey could reach dat level. Maybe dat's what made you join."
She listened to all of that, and all that registered was "You were supposed to have killed us?" Marie-Ange shook her head a few times, and finally flipped the pages in the sketchbook she had found. "That... when I knew you before, you... I cannot see anything for you, not at all. For everyone else there was something, but not for you, and that must have changed, because now I have pictures of you." She stopped on a rough charcoal sketch of Remy with a cane, one strange eye clouded. "Can I ask you what is maybe a stupid question?"
"Go ahead. You've earned dat."
She couldn't even articulate the question, just turned to a page in the sketchpad, this one was apparently mostly Remy, and showed him the sketch in pencils of a snowy scene, and the pair of them in a hot spring. "We... we never ... did we have some sort of... relationship?" Marie-Ange blushed as she asked, but it was the only explanation she could think of.
Remy shook his head. "De answer is weirder den de scene. Let me put it dis way, Marie-Ange: you never did anything dat you didn't believe in one hundred percent."
That seemed... well it was one of the only things that had made sense at all that anyone had said. "Is it a good future at least? Is all of this worth it?" She couldn't see how, because she'd turned into someone she couldn't imagine being.
"It's not a good future, but it's worth it." Remy said, nodding. "You wouldn't understand how strange de path is."