OPERATION: MAD MEN - Epilogue
Jun. 7th, 2018 11:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKevin wakes up in the MedLab.
There was a metal slab under him. It wasn't the least comfortable place Kevin Sydney had ever woken up in, but it wasn't a king sized bed at the Carlton either. He slowly pulled himself up into a seated position, blinking as his eyes unfocused, trying to adapt to the light in the room. He was groggy, suffering a massive headache, and something just didn't feel right. Why?
Oh, the shotgun. He remembered the hammer blow of the impact to his chest. It should have killed him. His powers must have taken care of it. The skin of is chest showed no signs of a gunshot wound.
And it was grey. Dull grey. Hairless. Lacking a nipple.
Kevin shot up and off the table in a panic. He was in the MedLab in the mansion. He'd been here before and seen the operating theatre, which he was off to the side of. His hands were... grey. Three fingers and no nails. He pushed over to the other side of the room, tossing the sheet that tangled around him to one side as he reached the full sized mirror.
What stared out at him was a horror; hairless and unisex. He was all grey, his body lacking more than vague definition from his three toed feet to his long fingered hands. The face looking back was dominated by large, dark eyes. There was no nose, holes for ears and a slit for a mouth. He touched his forehead, willing that the hand in the mirror wouldn't rise up and repeat the motion. That there was a reason other than this inhuman creature - this thing - was something else; a trick or a delusion.
"No. No. No no no no no..." The words slipped out, quickly unspooled in a stream of babble as he touched his chest and hips and featureless groin. He screwed his eyes shut. Six decades of training took over. He took a deep breath, concentrated and opened his eyes.
He looked back at himself. Proper hands, pale skin with his dark body hair; a human face.
That wasn't going to be good enough. In seconds, he was a young blonde woman; Laurie. She had reasons to come down to the lab. His body mimicked the last outfit he'd seen her in. He hated morphing clothes. Took a lot of concentration. But for now, it was escape. He was out of the room quickly, cutting across from the elevator, headed for the Blackbird hanger. Between the hall and the door, Laurie disappeared and was replaced with Scott. The X-Men leader was a tinkerer and the chief pilot. He crossed over and went up the rear service stairs that connected the hanger to the mansion. Another shift and Logan cut through the halls and into the garage.
For once, he appreciated the largess of the Professor and the multiple community cars parked there. He grabbed a set of keys to a nondescript compact. It was the one mostly used for driving lessons; easily the lamest of the vehicle options. Kevin liked boring. He loved lame. No one would be looking for it.
Fifteen minutes later, the car was parked illegally in the parking garage of the mall. Security would find it soon enough for it to get safely returned to the mansion, the aftermath of some joy ride, which is how they'd log it. Meanwhile, Logan stepped into the mall. Ten minutes later, copying a forty-ish dad he passed trying to explain how to pick out the right cleats to his son, Kevin left the mall with contents of an emergency stash in his pocket. The train into the city left in a few minutes and from Grand Central, he would disappear into the masses of New York.
A thing fooling everyone that it was a person.
There was a metal slab under him. It wasn't the least comfortable place Kevin Sydney had ever woken up in, but it wasn't a king sized bed at the Carlton either. He slowly pulled himself up into a seated position, blinking as his eyes unfocused, trying to adapt to the light in the room. He was groggy, suffering a massive headache, and something just didn't feel right. Why?
Oh, the shotgun. He remembered the hammer blow of the impact to his chest. It should have killed him. His powers must have taken care of it. The skin of is chest showed no signs of a gunshot wound.
And it was grey. Dull grey. Hairless. Lacking a nipple.
Kevin shot up and off the table in a panic. He was in the MedLab in the mansion. He'd been here before and seen the operating theatre, which he was off to the side of. His hands were... grey. Three fingers and no nails. He pushed over to the other side of the room, tossing the sheet that tangled around him to one side as he reached the full sized mirror.
What stared out at him was a horror; hairless and unisex. He was all grey, his body lacking more than vague definition from his three toed feet to his long fingered hands. The face looking back was dominated by large, dark eyes. There was no nose, holes for ears and a slit for a mouth. He touched his forehead, willing that the hand in the mirror wouldn't rise up and repeat the motion. That there was a reason other than this inhuman creature - this thing - was something else; a trick or a delusion.
"No. No. No no no no no..." The words slipped out, quickly unspooled in a stream of babble as he touched his chest and hips and featureless groin. He screwed his eyes shut. Six decades of training took over. He took a deep breath, concentrated and opened his eyes.
He looked back at himself. Proper hands, pale skin with his dark body hair; a human face.
That wasn't going to be good enough. In seconds, he was a young blonde woman; Laurie. She had reasons to come down to the lab. His body mimicked the last outfit he'd seen her in. He hated morphing clothes. Took a lot of concentration. But for now, it was escape. He was out of the room quickly, cutting across from the elevator, headed for the Blackbird hanger. Between the hall and the door, Laurie disappeared and was replaced with Scott. The X-Men leader was a tinkerer and the chief pilot. He crossed over and went up the rear service stairs that connected the hanger to the mansion. Another shift and Logan cut through the halls and into the garage.
For once, he appreciated the largess of the Professor and the multiple community cars parked there. He grabbed a set of keys to a nondescript compact. It was the one mostly used for driving lessons; easily the lamest of the vehicle options. Kevin liked boring. He loved lame. No one would be looking for it.
Fifteen minutes later, the car was parked illegally in the parking garage of the mall. Security would find it soon enough for it to get safely returned to the mansion, the aftermath of some joy ride, which is how they'd log it. Meanwhile, Logan stepped into the mall. Ten minutes later, copying a forty-ish dad he passed trying to explain how to pick out the right cleats to his son, Kevin left the mall with contents of an emergency stash in his pocket. The train into the city left in a few minutes and from Grand Central, he would disappear into the masses of New York.
A thing fooling everyone that it was a person.
