Log: Namor and Scott (Backdated)

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Scott picks Namor up from his dorms after an incident.

The city still dazzled Namor. Granted, he had only been there for a few weeks. He figured it was this way for most people new to New York — it was the idea of the city. The scale. The population and influence of this one island dwarfed Attilan's own. It made him feel small. Namor didn't like feeling small.

He crossed his arms, sourly watching the buildings blur outside the Pontiac's windows. They had already left Morningside — his "resolution" with Columbia's Student Housing having left him in the caring hands of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters for lodging this semester. His frown grew as he considered that this is what his father and mother had wanted initially. To Namor, it felt like defeat. He also didn't like defeat. It chafed.

Scott glanced over at the young Attilani, "So," Scott began breaking the silence, "what exactly happened?" It wasn't everyday that he had to pick up a student from university since they'd been thrown out of their housing. The professor had told him what had happened but Scott felt that it might be good for Namor to get it off his chest.

Namor's response was shockingly cold. He had known an explanation would be needed, but this did not quell his anger. "My roommate — one Paul Destine — would not show me the respect due a member of a foreign court. We exchanged harsh words. He had the audacity to insult my mutation. I demonstrated what my mutation could do."

He paused in recollection, the hints of a cruel smile creeping across his features. "Three times. It was sufficient."

Scott shook his head an sighed, "Not really helping the integration argument are you Namor?" he pointed out. "People are always going to insult your mutation and make fun of you for it. You know the arguments, 'People are scared of what they don't understand'," he quoted. "I know it's cliché, but that doesn't make it any less true. I don't really think punching someone through a wall is gonna help anything, no matter how much better it makes you feel."

Namor balked at the statement, but the zeal had already left him. "I didn't punch him through a wall." He clung to his indignation like a life-preserver. "I lost my temper, but I understand what you mean. I know what I did is wrong. Hell, I wasn't helping anyone." He sighed, "I lost control."

"You're not the only person to have lost your temper with someone," Scott relented, "We've all done it before, some people with rather more spectacular results. Punching the wall is pretty tame as things go. Just try to to threaten anyone again, huh?" the older man said with a small smile.

Namor refocused his gaze from window to his driver. "I'm sick of being an example of mutant nobility all the time. Is that how America really treats its mutants? Fear and polite curiosity? I have heard the stories, of course..." The youth paused there to let the question fester. He knew the answer he would get, but still wanted someone -- an authority figure; not a polite, moronic college employee without any real balls-- to say it.

"Not all Americans," Scott assured the Attilani, "Some of them don't know what to think, and there are even some who will treat you like any other person but..." Scott's voice trailed off as he stared out the window. "How much did your Aunts tell you about Day Zero?" he asked with a sigh, "It's not exactly like mutants have given them a reason to trust us. A lot of people are scared and they're just lashing out. I mean look at you, you can punch through walls and you can fly, show me the person who doesn't dream of that when they were a kid, but it freaks them out as an adult."

He got a very teenage sigh in response, "Not much. Crystal refused to talk about it and Medusa would only give details. That was so long ago, though. I know fear can linger -- philosophers love to go on and on -- but haven't there been any improvements?"

"There have been some," Scott agreed with a nod, "but it's slow progress. I mean the news doesn't really cover all the good deeds that mutants do. It's the pictures of fire and brimstone that sell copy. So we're not exactly taking on an easy task, but hey," Scott grinned at Namor, "If it were easy it wouldn't be work doing would it?"

Namor had to agree there. "Sure. The best types of solutions take a little sweat. Time too. Yet Attilan is only able to create an atmosphere of equality due to its size -- how do you handle that in a larger nation when the scales are tipped so dramatically?" He took a breath, but then interjected before Scott could reply. "And don't tell me 'Oh, it is the little things and daily interactions that matter.' I know that. It is what you tell small children."

"I won't lie, the small interactions do help, think about it, most prejudices are established at a grass-roots level." Scott swept a hand out to encompass the city around them, "it's all these people you need to convince, to make them realize mutants aren't any worse than anyone else. You do that by showing it to them everyday of their lives and slowly they'll accept it. But you're right little things aren't going to do it for an entire nation, sometimes it takes one person or one event so large that it changes everything. A Ghandi or a Mandela, someone who can make everyone around them believe in the power of their vision."

"But that's not what Professor Xavier intends to be," the young man in the passenger seat nodded, following along, "In at least of himself. Training mutants to ensure control and responsibility is a first step, but what's the next one?"

"You control the excesses of the worst and try to create an environment where someone can come along and step up to be that figure," Scott hazarded, "The Professor, and well all of us, we're just trying to protect mutants as well as we can." It was strange now Scott heard himself say it, that was exactly what Magneto said.

Namor understood. He certainly wasn't that figure with his flights of temper and pride. "So Xavier's School is meant to be a refuge. Very different from Attilan indeed."

"That's exactly right," Scott nodded, "It is a refuge of sorts, people who have no other place to go can come here and be themselves. But it's not so different from the school in Attilan either, people come here to learn about themselves and what they can do."

Namor opened his mouth to argue, but caught himself. It wasn't worth contesting differences here. He shook his head slightly, eyes drifting out toward the road. There were off the island now, and Namor could almost feel the sea drifting further away. "Will I be required to attend general education powers courses, or do you work with a tutor system?"

"That really depends on what you want," Scott replied happy to accept the subject change, "The New Mutants do both individual and group powers training, but I guess your aunts already worked on your control with you?" Scott inquired. "So then you don't have to attend any courses, but we'd be happy to work on your powers with you on a one to one basis if you want."

"My Uncle Karnak runs the ABSAE with Princess Crystal," was what Namor felt would suffice as enough of an explanation. "The New Mutants are what you call your secondary students, correct? The ones from the cave trip last summer?"

"Those are the ones," Scott confirmed as he span the wheel pulling the car over onto the highway taking them out of the city, "The actual students at the school."

This was met with a thoughtful noise. "Private tutelage would be preferable."

Scott nodded, "That can be arranged," he mused, "Maybe get Kyle or someone to work on you with control, and Logan for technique." The X-man gave the young prince a level look, "We can work with you in private, but there are things that you need to learn in a group environment."

"And would that be with your New Mutants?"

"Not necessarily," came the reply, "That really depends on you and your skills."

Namor looked back to Scott, eyebrows quirked in curiosity. "Well, I do love tests of skill."

"We could always put you in with some of our...graduates and see how you fair," Scott noted giving Namor a level look.

Scott had paused intriguingly at "graduates"; Namor would note that for later. "Excellent. The harder the challenge, the more you learn from it."

"You want a hard challenge?" Scott asked as a happy smile spread across his face, matched by the wicked glint in his eye, "Oh I think I can accommodate you there."

This did not falter Namor. In fact, it only swelled his conviction. "I'll proudly face whatever you throw at me."

Scott couldn't help but smile, "If that's what you really want, I'm certainly not going to stand in your way."

If either of their mutant powers had been dramatic music generation, there would have be a DUN DUN DUN following Scott's statement. Alas for Namor, the universe didn't see fit to foreshadow things in a way he would notice. The boy's chin was high, chest out. "Give me your worst."