It's Greek to Me: Well That Was Unexpected

[x-hawkeye.livejournal.com]

Our intrepid specialists are ready to completely throw in the towel. And then Namor actually does whack the mechanism.


They'd sprung for Indian for lunch this today, which meant Clint's mouth was a glorious thing of spices and chicken and na'an. What was less glorious was the stunning lack of results they'd managed to achieve on the stupid Atlantean travel machine.

Mouth half-full, Clint muttered, "I think we ought to see about alternate power sources. See if it's just that there's not sufficient amounts of energy to make it do what it's supposed to do."

Molly had taken to throwing tiny pieces of na'an up in the air and catching it in her mouth. Her aim was surprisingly good. "And then what, though? So if we like, find out it's powered by magic stardust what's that gonna do?" she said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It's not like we have any lying around."

"Let Billy shoot it with lightning," Matt suggested. "that's straight up electricity. Just do it when I'm not around," and wearing earplugs. And noise canceling headphones. It was loud. He shoved some more boti kebab in his mouth, chewing happily. "It'll either be enough power or fry it."

"We discussed that the other day," Billy shook his head. "and I got voted down. Which is probably for the best," he shrugged, sopping up some sauce with his naan and popping it in his mouth.

The resident stupid Atlantean in the room wasn't participating in said conversation or lunch bonding, but had instead elected to stare daggers at the device as if the intensity of his gaze could be harnessed as an effective power source. There were many things that scowl could inspire to action, but apparently ancient technology was not one of them.

"You all are making this too complicated," he mumbled in a manner that combined both disdain and loathing into a cocktail of thought that was only ruined by the fact that Namor's voice had none of its usual confidence.

Tilting her head curiously at Namor, Molly shrugged and went back to eating her lunch. "What about putting it in water? Maybe it's like a Harry Potter thing where it only works in water?"

"Tried it already," Clint said. That'd been a particularly desperate move the night before, actually. "I think, despite whatever vibes you're getting, Namor, this thing is just non-functional."

CLANG.

The sound reverberated throughout the room, and the John Hughes cast assembled to deal with this problem collectively turned to survey a tableau of Namor, trident in hand, poised over a now slightly dented priceless artifact. The king had apparently decided to cut out any complexity in favor of brute force.

He shrugged. "What? You people do this all the time with your technology. I have seen this on your television."

Yet before anyone could openly regret exposing Namor to slapstick comedy, another — albeit softer — sound filled the room as the mechanism's cogs began to rotate. In the space of a breath, the soft, mechanical click click of operational clockwork doubled and tripled into a steady buzz and a feeling of pressure built up in the room so quickly that it popped ears.

Namor, for his part, plastered on the most shit-eating grin he could manage. Yet before he could openly narrate the superiority of his genius, all of that pressure suddenly faded as a tiny, shimmering hole in reality opened above the ancient device.

"Uh..." Clint watched, wide-eyed, as the thing that had opened over the mechanism seemed to wobble. He could see it as a mildly opaque, circular distortion in the air, about six feet above the floor. "Guys, let's... step back? Like now."

Before anyone could actually move, though, a horrific looking fish slid out of the distortion with a small cascade of water.

"A fish?!" Matt asked, catching the smell first, then the general fishy shape. He preferred his fish sushi-shaped. "Where's it coming from?" There was a blob-thing above, but he couldn't make it out very well with his senses. It was like nothing else, it hummed slightly, almost moving minutely back and forth in the air.

"I had nothing to do with that," Billy said defensively, eyeing the fish warily from across the room. "I don't even like fish, let alone fish curry."

Blinking at their squishy new problem, Molly was tempted to nudge the fish with her boot but held off. "I...think Namor did it. The fish also kinda looks like it came from the ocean, which is very bad. Especially if it brings the ocean with it." She preferred not drowning. That'd be awesome.

"Doesn't look like it's... open constantly, just when... something comes through?" Clint said, not entirely sure he was on the right track there until another fish came through with a good bit of water that then immediately stopped. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he found Kyle in his contacts and dialed him. "I... we should probably try and keep the fish from dying. And somebody needs to call Summers in case this thing set off alarms or something."

Several more fish came through as he spoke to Kyle, snorting at the other mutant's assertion that he wasn't in charge of that kind of thing. But they really needed fish tanks or something, so he promised all the beer and extra meat lovers pizzas in exchange for the favor as Billy gave Summers a rundown of the situation.