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xp_logsDay 1 of the X-Force low tech road trip. Some people are already getting a little cabin fever. Others are doing fine, minus some small adjustments for sleeping in cramped, semi-public spaces.
Kevin and Sarah talk about her new position with X-Force and Kevin uses jargon.
They swapped out positions on the other side of Newark, finally breaking free of the worst of the traffic. Kevin climbed into the aggressively nondescript Toyota that had been dubbed 'McClure'. Unlike the RV, this one was from the 2000s era and they were able to leave behind the grab-bag of used cassettes and 8-tracks for the older model vehicles. Sarah had already claimed the wheel and for once, he didn't argue. The 280 was a long stretch so boring that hitting Cleveland was actually exciting. He poured himself yet another cup of coffee from his thermos, which he always seemed to refill when no one was paying attention.
"We're tail end Charlie for this stretch."
Sarah didn't look up from the road, shaking her head. "And here I thought I spoke 'old people '. Those sound like words, and yet I have no fucking idea what you just said."
"We're the rear guard car for the RV until Cleveland. Tail-end Charlie was the term for the rear gunner in a bomber."
"That would explain it. Nobody in my family was military." Sarah shrugged, and pressed the button on the steering wheel to set the cruise control. "Or if they did, they didn't make it out of boot camp."
"I went through Basic with a guy who claimed his family was connected. Ricky Santoianni. Won a Silver Star at Hoengsong." Kevin took a sip from his coffee. "I always wondered if Puzo had gotten that detail for Michael Corleone from Ricky."
"My dad always said Puzo was full of shit, but then, there was a lot they said was lies that turned out to be true. A lot of bullshit as well, but that's to be expected in fiction."
"I remember when Apalachin blew up in '57. Suddenly the Red Scare gives way to Mob on every headline for months. You want a coffee?" He motioned with his cup.
Sarah shook her head. "No thanks. That means more stops, and I already feel like this trip has gone on too long and I need a damn vacation from you people."
"A ringing endorsement of team building." Kevin said wryly. "Especially since we just got started. How are you finding the job so far?"
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you and say that you all aren't a lot sometimes." Sarah wondered for a moment if she was being too harsh, quickly adding "and as someone who grew up in an institution that is the textbook definition of "a lot", I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just hard to walk into smoothly."
"No one was expecting you to just slide in seamlessly. This job tends to attract certain personalities. But I'm still more curious how you're adapting to the job. Lee says you're doing well on the local networks we've got you learning on and I can see you've made a solid dent in the pile of reading we buried you under."
"You noticed that, did you? I suspected that was some sort of hazing ritual but it turns out you all just really really like paperwork. But notes are how I function too, so it's a familiar sort of crazy."
"Good. Because you're far enough along with the basic fieldwork that we'll start adding in a level of analysis after this job. Get you looking at the intel you collect and matching it up with our other information and see what dots connect." Kevin said. "Don't worry. You're not on a track to a desk job, but we'll want you to get used to how it operates."
Sarah chuckled. "Well that's a relief. I can't be held responsible for anything that happens if I'm left unsupervised at a desk job."
"You laugh, but you're going to be trusted to make your own decisions a lot here. It's part of the whole gig." Kevin nodded. "But for now, we'll hide the staplers and the glue so you don't hurt yourself or others while you learn the ropes."
"It's not the decisions I am worried about, I basically grew up a feral child and have been making my own decisions since I was 8." Sarah's dad hadn't really known how to raise a young child, so he just... didn't. By the time he remarried and her stepmother tried to rein her in, it was a lost cause. "But if I'm rotting away at a desk somewhere, I can't promise my decisions won't be manufacturing some excitement for my own entertainment. So maybe it is the decisions I am worried about. But your stapler is safe. I think."
"You're too valuable in the field to stick on a desk full time, but... I need you to be a complete package, and that includes the desk part. You alright with that?"
Sarah shrugged. "Will I do it as part of the job? Sure. Will I daydream about burning the building down if I spend too much time in the office? Also probably yes. But we can cross that bridge if we get there."
"You absolutely sound like a line animal to me. And we'll focus on that." Kevin confirmed. "And when we need you in the office, we'll get you one of those fidget spinners."
"Line animal," she repeated thoughtfully, "Remind me to write that one down next time we stop. I'm going to need to start a glossary."
"See. I'm a mentor." Kevin joked, draining the rest of his coffee.
In the RV, Darcy and Topaz experiment with feeding Topaz’s void bag.
"Listen, it's not my fault you have terrible taste in drinks," Topaz grumbled at her bag as she dried off the dead phone she used as a test object to see if the bloody thing accepted whatever it was being given. Accepted - great, everything was fine. Rejected - the next thing she pulled out would be soaking wet. "Why did it have to be gas station coffee? Couldn't you have a Starbucks addiction?"
"At least it's got cheap taste," Darcy remarked, settling on the other side of the bag with a large thermos. "Kinda nerdy, too, I could take your bag down to the portal area and Clint and Forge would probably have some sludge with a passing resemblance to coffee and a caffeine content high enough to make you hear colors and see sounds." She gave the bag an affectionate pat. No point in pissing off magical artifacts, particularly ones with enough awareness to have preferences. "Which, speaking of. Not quite enough caffeine to make you hear colors, but this is an entire thermos of Death Wish. You think the bag wants some? If not, I've got a blueberry muffin oatmeal shake in the fridge. No caffeine but plenty of protein, so bag here doesn't get any ideas about eating small animals or something."
"I've been trying to limit wormhole exposure," Topaz admitted, tossing the phone back into the bag. "I've been using it for siphoning small bits of energy from it, but I'm not sure what long term exposure to it or the science blokes would do." She eyed the thermos, then shrugged. "Sure. It does seem to have a coffee addiction specifically. I think that's just to spite me because it knows I keep more tea."
"Can't blame you, the portal's damn creepy. And Maya's cousin or whatever... I haven't interacted with him much, but he and Clint are getting along like two very enabling disasters." She clucked her tongue at the thought, but wasn't particularly worried. Just... mildly concerned. Sometimes. She turned her attention back to Topaz and the bag, shoving any concern about terrifying scientific collaborations to the back of her mind. "So what, I just carefully pour some in and we hope for the best? Nothing in there you're worried about ruining if bag hates it?" Darcy examined the top of the bag, cautious about putting her hands or face too close to it. "Do we need to sew a little fuel gauge on? I could probably embroider something cute, if it won't kill me for stabbing it with needles."
"Nope. Staying away from that." Topaz shook her head. "I'm not sure if it... feels? I've definitely dropped it before." She poked the bag. "How would you feel about being stabbed with needles?" No response of course. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't feel actual pain. Yeah, just pour a little in. I don't put anything in there that can't be easily cleaned off."
"We can try it once we're back. I only brought my emergency fix kit with me, and well--" Darcy winced as they hit a bump. "Probably best if we don't use it while moving." She flipped back the lid of her thermos, slowly pouring a little into the bag before taking a sip for herself. The heat was a little scalding, but still drinkable. "Have you been keeping a list of what it likes and how much it wants before it's... full, I guess? Or do we need to do science with the bag?"
"Yeah." Topaz opened a small, non-infinite pocket and took out a mini stenopad and a couple pens in different colors. She flipped the pad open to the first page. There was a list of beverages with various green checks, red x's, and blue asterisks next to them. "I've been writing down ideas as I have them." She went through a few more pages. "Green is accepted, red is rejected, blue is I don't think it had any effect, I'll need to go back and test later. I can tell when it's full from the magic energy it projects - that part is hard to explain, but I know what the baseline feels like."
Darcy let out a low whistle. "You weren't joking about the tea dislike, wow. Not really a sugary coffee fan either, hm? Guess it gets a mini espresso of its own next time. Has Doug given it hot sauce yet? I kinda want to see that reaction."
"I haven't let Doug near it yet. Or anyone who might have fun ideas about what to give it." She scribbled down sugar coffee, put an X next to it, and pulled out the test phone to wipe it off. "I know nothing leaks through the first... surface of whatever. I don't think it's really built out of layers. But magic is confusing sometimes."
"And yet you let the queen of enabling feed it coffee." She gave Topaz a sly smile and a wink. "Protein shakes next? The one I made for this afternoon isn't caffeinated, but I can make one with caffeine for tomorrow."
Topaz smirked back. "I trust you more than I trust the guy who stuck his arm in molten material. Or the guy who injected himself with venom." She looked at the bag. "What do you think? Protein shake?"
Predictably, it didn't answer.
"I'm not sure what that says about me or you, considering we're friends with or dating both of those guys."
Darcy got up, shuffling the few steps to the fridge, and returned a minute later with a shaker bottle in her hand. Several shakes later, she flipped the top and peered in. "Looks like shake to me. Alright magic bag, time to see if you wanna be on the protein." A careful pour had a generous spoonful slipping into the bag's opening. "It doesn't look like much, but it does actually taste like a blueberry muffin," Darcy said, holding it out to Topaz in offer.
"Our taste in friends or romantic partners is a completely different thing." She took the shake for a taste, and hummed. "Very good. Although..." She pulled out the dead, shake-covered phone. "I don't think the bag agrees."
Darcy tsked at the bag. "I could just pour straight Guarana powder into some water, but I don't want to know what happens to a magic bag that exceeds its caffeine limit. Projecting colors and sounds? Stealing things from other magical bags? That feels like an at-home experiment. Maybe an office one."
"That is absolutely a controlled space experiment." Topaz looked around the RV, grimacing. "This is... not that."
"Chaotic space experiment," Darcy agreed. "Not a good place for things to potentially go boom. Or alter what we experience."
"Or blow up the RV which I'm sure several people would be mad about." Because it sure beat the hell out of being in one of the cars.
"I am pretty sure we'd lose... well, any sort of whatever the heck privileges we have now, yes. And I'm pretty sure Ange promised the RV to Forge for afters, let him soup it up any way he can think of." Darcy's face did a complicated twist of a grin and eyebrow waggle at the thought. "Can't deprive the poor scientists of their own chances to make things go boom, I suppose."
"Oh sure, when the scientists blow things up it's for science or whatever, but when I do it, magic is dangerous and I need to control it better or not get stuck between dimensions." It had probably been long enough to joke about that.
"And give them new realities to throw themselves into with minimal hesitation and a scrape of sense," Darcy agreed. "Except magic is dangerous, even when people way more expert than I am are wielding it." She stuck her tongue out at Topaz childishly. "Actually the idea of me wielding magic is a nightmare and should probably never be considered except as a last resort or a passive thing like the Baltimore ritual. I'd either blow something I wasn't supposed to up or invoke something I definitely didn't want to invoke."
"Magic is just a lot of unintended consequences." Topaz shrugged. "Really, anyone can - okay, maybe not anyone. Actually I probably shouldn't encourage anything. For everyone's well being."
"I think technopathy is probably enough for Doug to deal with from me, never mind something like technomagery. Is that even a thing, actually? Still. The one side of the coin is spooky enough." Darcy grimaced. "Probably best we just... not. Unless we have to."
"I'm... not one-hundred percent certain, but I believe we used to have a contact who worked with tech magic," Topaz said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't recommend trying to imitate it, though."
"No, trust me, I'm good on that front. More experiments with magic bag and whatnot, sure, but not actually delving in myself." Darcy reached out and gave the bag a gentle pat. "And, y'know, cats. I'm cool with the magic that is cats."
Doug explains Burning Man to Topaz and adds his own personal tidbit.
"Hokay, so." Those words tended to mark the beginning of a Doug Ramsey Infodump. Most people were lucky if they didn't also then get the beginnings of the classic 'End of the World' internet video before he got into the actual subject at hand. "Burning Man started in the mid-80s as a bit of 'radical self-expression', and since 1991 has been held annually on the playa of Black Rock Desert." Exposition gave Doug something to keep his mind busy and stave off road fatigue as they made their way down the road. Since he was driving, Topaz was spared having to deal with visual aids. Low tech or not, Doug still loved his presentations.
Topaz had never dealt with a cassette player. She'd also never had to spend an extended amount of time listening to Doug's music. Neither were something she wanted to repeat. Talking was a good excuse for turning the radio down, and distract her from trying to find something else to listen to. "Nothing like an annual organized festival to express yourself radically. It's basically a small city for the time it goes on, isn't it?"
Doug nodded. "Black Rock City only lasts for the duration of events, though. 'Leave no trace' is another Burner principle." Which was one of the reasons they were using the RV and not simply car convoying. It would give them a place to operate out of while they were on the playa. "It's organized by blocks, and there's lots of theme camps set up within that." Burning Man reaching a saturation point of people and camps was another point that Doug could expound at length on.
It was fascinating, Topaz would admit. "There's only so much space, though, right? Have they ever run over?"
Doug did his best not to grin overtly when he noticed Topaz' grumpy ennui give way to actual interest. "Since the playa is on Bureau of Land Management land, they do designate how much space the event can take up, and since 2006 they've imposed population limits on Black Rock City. Some years have been over the limit, but generally not by a lot - like a thousand people or so. And the limit has gone up over time - I think this year's is supposed to be close to 90,000." The regulation of Burning Man by BLM was a hotly debated topic, with some feeling it infringed upon the principle of 'radical self-expression', and others accepting it as the cost of the increased interest and participation over the years.
Topaz looked in the rearview mirror, at their own little caravan of vehicles. "So really we're not going to stand out much."
"Honestly?" Doug shrugged. "The only way we'd stand out is by looking -too- normie, and I doubt that'll be a problem with our group." He waggled his 'prosthetic' where it sat on the steering wheel. "I'm even debating letting the friendos go full Aesthetic while we're there, let them have some fun with it." If there was one place where it wouldn't get even much of a second look, it'd be Burning Man.
"Okay. And..." Topaz looked him up and down. "How exactly do you know all of this?"
Doug grinned at the unspoken 'you're a suburban white boy' in Topaz' question. "My parents are liberal lawyers in Colorado, which was one of the first handful of states to legalize medical marijuana use, and pretty much -the- first for recreational. And they went to UC Berkeley." His face grew thoughtful. "Matter of fact, they might have been there at the first..." He trailed off as numbers added up to an uncomfortable conclusion in his head. "Oh. Oh -no-."
That was definitely the look and feel of someone who had just discovered something he really wished he hadn't. "What?" Topaz asked warily, unsure if she wanted to know.
"I...think I might have been conceived at one of the first burns," Doug muttered rapidly, not quite under his breath. Except he couldn't leave it there, so he sighed and elaborated. "Those first few years before it moved to Black Rock, they had burns at every solstice and equinox. I was born in May of 1987, and I was a couple weeks premature. Which tracking back, would put it right around autumnal equinox, 1986. And '86 was the first year of burns." Some days he really hated that his brain would not let a pattern go until he came to its conclusion.
That was a fair thing to be disturbed about, Topaz thought. "I'll take things you wish you never knew about your parents for two-hundred?"
"More like two thousand. Two million." Sadly, that particular bit of knowledge was something money wouldn't scrub away.
That night, Amanda and Marie-Ange experience the extreme closeness that is sleeping in an RV bunk.
RV's are cramped. Even the largest ones slept maybe eight people, if all eight people were willing to double-bunk.
Thankfully most of X-Force were willing to double-bunk and sleep in shifts.
Marie-Ange's participation in the packing scheme was to start carrying bundles upon bundles of blankets and sheets down from the mansion and stow them everywhere she could in the RV. Every bed had an excess of pillows, comforters, luxury thread-count sheets, and she'd somehow gotten privacy curtains around a few of the bunk beds with a complicated setup of curtain rods. The price for this was that she'd also taken a neatly calligraphed piece of paper and marked one bunk as "MA+AMANDA", dropped her own pillows in the space and topped it with the plushie squid that often also adorned her bed at the mansion.
The first day of driving was long, and expectedly, most of everyone hadn't yet fallen into the dulled state of 'ran out of things to do in the car' - it was still a little fresh and strangely exciting to be driving for so long, doing crosswords and making weird sandwiches in the RV. It was dark when Marie-Ange came back to the RV from a shift in one of the cars, and she stumbled a little out of the cramped little bathroom, damp washcloth still in hand.
Sitting up in the bunk bed allocated as theirs, Amanda looked up from the book she was reading and gave Marie-Ange a welcoming smile. She was wearing one of the collection of over-large t-shirts she used as sleepwear and her hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head. "I'd scooch over, but there's not really anywhere to scooch," she said wryly.
"It is a good thing you are short." Marie-Ange said, as she sat down on the edge of the bunk. She had a set of broken-in flannel sleep pants, and a tank top on, and a pair of socks, though she toed those off just after sitting down. "I think I need to not do any more actual driving shifts at sunset. I had to switch to shotgun, I was having trouble gauging distances between cars." She tapped the eyepatch, one of the rare plain black ones. "Gave myself a headache and had to take the prosthetic out, so I am off driving for a bit."
"I'm not short, I'm conveniently pocket-sized," replied Amanda with a snort. "Come sit in front of me, I'll work on your neck and shoulders - that usually helps with the headaches." She spread her knees apart under the blanket and patted the space between.
"Travel sized for my benefit." Marie-Ange barely needed the invitation, and gracelessly dropped onto the bunk. "It is very strange to have a headache and not have it turn into a migraine." She wiggled back towards Amanda, making a conscious choice to press into her girlfriend's lap a little before scooting forward to create space and room. "How are you finding the trip? We have gone through five or six small cities already."
After planting a kiss on the nape of her girlfriend's neck in response to the wiggle, Amanda began massaging the tight muscles of Marie-Ange's neck and shoulders, lifting an eyebrow at just how tense they were but not saying anything. Instead, she answered her question. "Well, I've been eating like a horse, which usually happens when I don't get enough juice for my powers. The States just don't have the sort of extended history that Europe does, so the cities aren't really developed enough to give me much. I might try some of the native sites if we pass close enough - that worked with Nate that time after that Vegas job. Remember that? The one where Remy and Nate took a bunch of us to steal Cerebro files?" She snickered. "Ah, the good old days."
"I still have poker chips from that that you and Doug and Jubilee gave me." Marie-Ange said. "I do not even know why Jubilee gave me one. We still hated each other." She made a groan as Amanda found a particularly tense spot. "I saw someone did some cross reference on the atlas of sites, I assumed it was you or Wanda. Though, really everyone drew all over the main one. I should have assigned colour coding."
"Oh, that must have been Topaz - she's sneaky thoughtful like that." Amanda focused on a knot along her girlfriend's shoulder blade as she spoke. "Just don't let Maya or Forge know this colonizer is leeching off their sacred sites," she added with a chuckle. "Ooh, are we going to be anywhere near those old cities in the canyons? 'Cause I've always wondered what those taste like." She knew Marie-Ange would understand what she meant by the taste of a place - it was the best metaphor she'd been able to find for her particular powers.
Amanda couldn't see it, but Marie-Ange rolled her eyes at the mention of Maya. They'd made a truce when Topaz disappeared, kept it when she returned, but the young woman irritated her like none other. "One of the markers was close to our route so I think so? If not, as long as this works, we can make a stop on the way back. Someone has to bring these cars back to the mansion." She huffed a little. "I had to promise that once we were done with them being boring, that our resident car people could play with them. So as long as we do not get blown up in the desert, the mansion gets a free RV."
One eyebrow went up. "Why would they want a RV when they've got the fucking stealth plane?" Amanda asked, then shook her head. "Whatever. Americans are balmy about their cars. Must have broken Scott and Forge's brains to not be able to turn this thing into a rolling computer lab or something."
"I have stopped asking questions, but I think Scott may have gotten a little teary eyed that we were not completely rebuilding the engine on the black car." Which is part of why she had to promise not to blow them up in the desert. Marie-Ange made another groan that turned into a blissful hiss as a knot in her shoulder loosened. "Do you know, I have managed to not yet meet our new Forge? Funny he does not even have it in his name, different background, but oh, there is that same arrogance."
"And then some. You're not missing anything by not having met him yet, even if he's a lot prettier than our version. This one's even worse with the social cues, if you can believe it." She moved onto the other shoulder blade - it wasn't as knotted as the first one, but it needed some work. "And I’m probably going to have to work with him at some stage - he's got himself a massive magical block that needs attention." Amanda huffed out a breath. "Maybe Topaz can take him."
"I can believe it. I have heard a little." Marie-Ange agreed. "You know, it would be good for her, and from what I do know of the man, Topaz may be more palatable to him." She rolled her neck, and it popped twice. "He has some of the same low level hostility that Maya has, which is understandable. If he is blocked, perhaps Topaz can get through where you could not. To him, you look white and British, and he cannot see past your hair and accent. He may not make the same mistake with Topaz."
"I was half-joking, but you're right. She can at least get him started." Amanda finished her massage by gently pulling back on Marie-Ange's shoulders to stretch things out and let them move back into place. "There y'go. You should be able to sleep a bit better now."
"Such as sleep is, in a bunk with an octopus for a girlfriend." Marie-Ange's nose wrinkled up in amusement, and arched her back a little to test her muscles. "That is so much better. I would make it up to you, but neither of us is quiet and I do not think being stabbed to death by our co-workers or friends would be a good idea. Maybe on the return trip."
Kevin and Sarah talk about her new position with X-Force and Kevin uses jargon.
They swapped out positions on the other side of Newark, finally breaking free of the worst of the traffic. Kevin climbed into the aggressively nondescript Toyota that had been dubbed 'McClure'. Unlike the RV, this one was from the 2000s era and they were able to leave behind the grab-bag of used cassettes and 8-tracks for the older model vehicles. Sarah had already claimed the wheel and for once, he didn't argue. The 280 was a long stretch so boring that hitting Cleveland was actually exciting. He poured himself yet another cup of coffee from his thermos, which he always seemed to refill when no one was paying attention.
"We're tail end Charlie for this stretch."
Sarah didn't look up from the road, shaking her head. "And here I thought I spoke 'old people '. Those sound like words, and yet I have no fucking idea what you just said."
"We're the rear guard car for the RV until Cleveland. Tail-end Charlie was the term for the rear gunner in a bomber."
"That would explain it. Nobody in my family was military." Sarah shrugged, and pressed the button on the steering wheel to set the cruise control. "Or if they did, they didn't make it out of boot camp."
"I went through Basic with a guy who claimed his family was connected. Ricky Santoianni. Won a Silver Star at Hoengsong." Kevin took a sip from his coffee. "I always wondered if Puzo had gotten that detail for Michael Corleone from Ricky."
"My dad always said Puzo was full of shit, but then, there was a lot they said was lies that turned out to be true. A lot of bullshit as well, but that's to be expected in fiction."
"I remember when Apalachin blew up in '57. Suddenly the Red Scare gives way to Mob on every headline for months. You want a coffee?" He motioned with his cup.
Sarah shook her head. "No thanks. That means more stops, and I already feel like this trip has gone on too long and I need a damn vacation from you people."
"A ringing endorsement of team building." Kevin said wryly. "Especially since we just got started. How are you finding the job so far?"
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you and say that you all aren't a lot sometimes." Sarah wondered for a moment if she was being too harsh, quickly adding "and as someone who grew up in an institution that is the textbook definition of "a lot", I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just hard to walk into smoothly."
"No one was expecting you to just slide in seamlessly. This job tends to attract certain personalities. But I'm still more curious how you're adapting to the job. Lee says you're doing well on the local networks we've got you learning on and I can see you've made a solid dent in the pile of reading we buried you under."
"You noticed that, did you? I suspected that was some sort of hazing ritual but it turns out you all just really really like paperwork. But notes are how I function too, so it's a familiar sort of crazy."
"Good. Because you're far enough along with the basic fieldwork that we'll start adding in a level of analysis after this job. Get you looking at the intel you collect and matching it up with our other information and see what dots connect." Kevin said. "Don't worry. You're not on a track to a desk job, but we'll want you to get used to how it operates."
Sarah chuckled. "Well that's a relief. I can't be held responsible for anything that happens if I'm left unsupervised at a desk job."
"You laugh, but you're going to be trusted to make your own decisions a lot here. It's part of the whole gig." Kevin nodded. "But for now, we'll hide the staplers and the glue so you don't hurt yourself or others while you learn the ropes."
"It's not the decisions I am worried about, I basically grew up a feral child and have been making my own decisions since I was 8." Sarah's dad hadn't really known how to raise a young child, so he just... didn't. By the time he remarried and her stepmother tried to rein her in, it was a lost cause. "But if I'm rotting away at a desk somewhere, I can't promise my decisions won't be manufacturing some excitement for my own entertainment. So maybe it is the decisions I am worried about. But your stapler is safe. I think."
"You're too valuable in the field to stick on a desk full time, but... I need you to be a complete package, and that includes the desk part. You alright with that?"
Sarah shrugged. "Will I do it as part of the job? Sure. Will I daydream about burning the building down if I spend too much time in the office? Also probably yes. But we can cross that bridge if we get there."
"You absolutely sound like a line animal to me. And we'll focus on that." Kevin confirmed. "And when we need you in the office, we'll get you one of those fidget spinners."
"Line animal," she repeated thoughtfully, "Remind me to write that one down next time we stop. I'm going to need to start a glossary."
"See. I'm a mentor." Kevin joked, draining the rest of his coffee.
In the RV, Darcy and Topaz experiment with feeding Topaz’s void bag.
"Listen, it's not my fault you have terrible taste in drinks," Topaz grumbled at her bag as she dried off the dead phone she used as a test object to see if the bloody thing accepted whatever it was being given. Accepted - great, everything was fine. Rejected - the next thing she pulled out would be soaking wet. "Why did it have to be gas station coffee? Couldn't you have a Starbucks addiction?"
"At least it's got cheap taste," Darcy remarked, settling on the other side of the bag with a large thermos. "Kinda nerdy, too, I could take your bag down to the portal area and Clint and Forge would probably have some sludge with a passing resemblance to coffee and a caffeine content high enough to make you hear colors and see sounds." She gave the bag an affectionate pat. No point in pissing off magical artifacts, particularly ones with enough awareness to have preferences. "Which, speaking of. Not quite enough caffeine to make you hear colors, but this is an entire thermos of Death Wish. You think the bag wants some? If not, I've got a blueberry muffin oatmeal shake in the fridge. No caffeine but plenty of protein, so bag here doesn't get any ideas about eating small animals or something."
"I've been trying to limit wormhole exposure," Topaz admitted, tossing the phone back into the bag. "I've been using it for siphoning small bits of energy from it, but I'm not sure what long term exposure to it or the science blokes would do." She eyed the thermos, then shrugged. "Sure. It does seem to have a coffee addiction specifically. I think that's just to spite me because it knows I keep more tea."
"Can't blame you, the portal's damn creepy. And Maya's cousin or whatever... I haven't interacted with him much, but he and Clint are getting along like two very enabling disasters." She clucked her tongue at the thought, but wasn't particularly worried. Just... mildly concerned. Sometimes. She turned her attention back to Topaz and the bag, shoving any concern about terrifying scientific collaborations to the back of her mind. "So what, I just carefully pour some in and we hope for the best? Nothing in there you're worried about ruining if bag hates it?" Darcy examined the top of the bag, cautious about putting her hands or face too close to it. "Do we need to sew a little fuel gauge on? I could probably embroider something cute, if it won't kill me for stabbing it with needles."
"Nope. Staying away from that." Topaz shook her head. "I'm not sure if it... feels? I've definitely dropped it before." She poked the bag. "How would you feel about being stabbed with needles?" No response of course. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't feel actual pain. Yeah, just pour a little in. I don't put anything in there that can't be easily cleaned off."
"We can try it once we're back. I only brought my emergency fix kit with me, and well--" Darcy winced as they hit a bump. "Probably best if we don't use it while moving." She flipped back the lid of her thermos, slowly pouring a little into the bag before taking a sip for herself. The heat was a little scalding, but still drinkable. "Have you been keeping a list of what it likes and how much it wants before it's... full, I guess? Or do we need to do science with the bag?"
"Yeah." Topaz opened a small, non-infinite pocket and took out a mini stenopad and a couple pens in different colors. She flipped the pad open to the first page. There was a list of beverages with various green checks, red x's, and blue asterisks next to them. "I've been writing down ideas as I have them." She went through a few more pages. "Green is accepted, red is rejected, blue is I don't think it had any effect, I'll need to go back and test later. I can tell when it's full from the magic energy it projects - that part is hard to explain, but I know what the baseline feels like."
Darcy let out a low whistle. "You weren't joking about the tea dislike, wow. Not really a sugary coffee fan either, hm? Guess it gets a mini espresso of its own next time. Has Doug given it hot sauce yet? I kinda want to see that reaction."
"I haven't let Doug near it yet. Or anyone who might have fun ideas about what to give it." She scribbled down sugar coffee, put an X next to it, and pulled out the test phone to wipe it off. "I know nothing leaks through the first... surface of whatever. I don't think it's really built out of layers. But magic is confusing sometimes."
"And yet you let the queen of enabling feed it coffee." She gave Topaz a sly smile and a wink. "Protein shakes next? The one I made for this afternoon isn't caffeinated, but I can make one with caffeine for tomorrow."
Topaz smirked back. "I trust you more than I trust the guy who stuck his arm in molten material. Or the guy who injected himself with venom." She looked at the bag. "What do you think? Protein shake?"
Predictably, it didn't answer.
"I'm not sure what that says about me or you, considering we're friends with or dating both of those guys."
Darcy got up, shuffling the few steps to the fridge, and returned a minute later with a shaker bottle in her hand. Several shakes later, she flipped the top and peered in. "Looks like shake to me. Alright magic bag, time to see if you wanna be on the protein." A careful pour had a generous spoonful slipping into the bag's opening. "It doesn't look like much, but it does actually taste like a blueberry muffin," Darcy said, holding it out to Topaz in offer.
"Our taste in friends or romantic partners is a completely different thing." She took the shake for a taste, and hummed. "Very good. Although..." She pulled out the dead, shake-covered phone. "I don't think the bag agrees."
Darcy tsked at the bag. "I could just pour straight Guarana powder into some water, but I don't want to know what happens to a magic bag that exceeds its caffeine limit. Projecting colors and sounds? Stealing things from other magical bags? That feels like an at-home experiment. Maybe an office one."
"That is absolutely a controlled space experiment." Topaz looked around the RV, grimacing. "This is... not that."
"Chaotic space experiment," Darcy agreed. "Not a good place for things to potentially go boom. Or alter what we experience."
"Or blow up the RV which I'm sure several people would be mad about." Because it sure beat the hell out of being in one of the cars.
"I am pretty sure we'd lose... well, any sort of whatever the heck privileges we have now, yes. And I'm pretty sure Ange promised the RV to Forge for afters, let him soup it up any way he can think of." Darcy's face did a complicated twist of a grin and eyebrow waggle at the thought. "Can't deprive the poor scientists of their own chances to make things go boom, I suppose."
"Oh sure, when the scientists blow things up it's for science or whatever, but when I do it, magic is dangerous and I need to control it better or not get stuck between dimensions." It had probably been long enough to joke about that.
"And give them new realities to throw themselves into with minimal hesitation and a scrape of sense," Darcy agreed. "Except magic is dangerous, even when people way more expert than I am are wielding it." She stuck her tongue out at Topaz childishly. "Actually the idea of me wielding magic is a nightmare and should probably never be considered except as a last resort or a passive thing like the Baltimore ritual. I'd either blow something I wasn't supposed to up or invoke something I definitely didn't want to invoke."
"Magic is just a lot of unintended consequences." Topaz shrugged. "Really, anyone can - okay, maybe not anyone. Actually I probably shouldn't encourage anything. For everyone's well being."
"I think technopathy is probably enough for Doug to deal with from me, never mind something like technomagery. Is that even a thing, actually? Still. The one side of the coin is spooky enough." Darcy grimaced. "Probably best we just... not. Unless we have to."
"I'm... not one-hundred percent certain, but I believe we used to have a contact who worked with tech magic," Topaz said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't recommend trying to imitate it, though."
"No, trust me, I'm good on that front. More experiments with magic bag and whatnot, sure, but not actually delving in myself." Darcy reached out and gave the bag a gentle pat. "And, y'know, cats. I'm cool with the magic that is cats."
Doug explains Burning Man to Topaz and adds his own personal tidbit.
"Hokay, so." Those words tended to mark the beginning of a Doug Ramsey Infodump. Most people were lucky if they didn't also then get the beginnings of the classic 'End of the World' internet video before he got into the actual subject at hand. "Burning Man started in the mid-80s as a bit of 'radical self-expression', and since 1991 has been held annually on the playa of Black Rock Desert." Exposition gave Doug something to keep his mind busy and stave off road fatigue as they made their way down the road. Since he was driving, Topaz was spared having to deal with visual aids. Low tech or not, Doug still loved his presentations.
Topaz had never dealt with a cassette player. She'd also never had to spend an extended amount of time listening to Doug's music. Neither were something she wanted to repeat. Talking was a good excuse for turning the radio down, and distract her from trying to find something else to listen to. "Nothing like an annual organized festival to express yourself radically. It's basically a small city for the time it goes on, isn't it?"
Doug nodded. "Black Rock City only lasts for the duration of events, though. 'Leave no trace' is another Burner principle." Which was one of the reasons they were using the RV and not simply car convoying. It would give them a place to operate out of while they were on the playa. "It's organized by blocks, and there's lots of theme camps set up within that." Burning Man reaching a saturation point of people and camps was another point that Doug could expound at length on.
It was fascinating, Topaz would admit. "There's only so much space, though, right? Have they ever run over?"
Doug did his best not to grin overtly when he noticed Topaz' grumpy ennui give way to actual interest. "Since the playa is on Bureau of Land Management land, they do designate how much space the event can take up, and since 2006 they've imposed population limits on Black Rock City. Some years have been over the limit, but generally not by a lot - like a thousand people or so. And the limit has gone up over time - I think this year's is supposed to be close to 90,000." The regulation of Burning Man by BLM was a hotly debated topic, with some feeling it infringed upon the principle of 'radical self-expression', and others accepting it as the cost of the increased interest and participation over the years.
Topaz looked in the rearview mirror, at their own little caravan of vehicles. "So really we're not going to stand out much."
"Honestly?" Doug shrugged. "The only way we'd stand out is by looking -too- normie, and I doubt that'll be a problem with our group." He waggled his 'prosthetic' where it sat on the steering wheel. "I'm even debating letting the friendos go full Aesthetic while we're there, let them have some fun with it." If there was one place where it wouldn't get even much of a second look, it'd be Burning Man.
"Okay. And..." Topaz looked him up and down. "How exactly do you know all of this?"
Doug grinned at the unspoken 'you're a suburban white boy' in Topaz' question. "My parents are liberal lawyers in Colorado, which was one of the first handful of states to legalize medical marijuana use, and pretty much -the- first for recreational. And they went to UC Berkeley." His face grew thoughtful. "Matter of fact, they might have been there at the first..." He trailed off as numbers added up to an uncomfortable conclusion in his head. "Oh. Oh -no-."
That was definitely the look and feel of someone who had just discovered something he really wished he hadn't. "What?" Topaz asked warily, unsure if she wanted to know.
"I...think I might have been conceived at one of the first burns," Doug muttered rapidly, not quite under his breath. Except he couldn't leave it there, so he sighed and elaborated. "Those first few years before it moved to Black Rock, they had burns at every solstice and equinox. I was born in May of 1987, and I was a couple weeks premature. Which tracking back, would put it right around autumnal equinox, 1986. And '86 was the first year of burns." Some days he really hated that his brain would not let a pattern go until he came to its conclusion.
That was a fair thing to be disturbed about, Topaz thought. "I'll take things you wish you never knew about your parents for two-hundred?"
"More like two thousand. Two million." Sadly, that particular bit of knowledge was something money wouldn't scrub away.
That night, Amanda and Marie-Ange experience the extreme closeness that is sleeping in an RV bunk.
RV's are cramped. Even the largest ones slept maybe eight people, if all eight people were willing to double-bunk.
Thankfully most of X-Force were willing to double-bunk and sleep in shifts.
Marie-Ange's participation in the packing scheme was to start carrying bundles upon bundles of blankets and sheets down from the mansion and stow them everywhere she could in the RV. Every bed had an excess of pillows, comforters, luxury thread-count sheets, and she'd somehow gotten privacy curtains around a few of the bunk beds with a complicated setup of curtain rods. The price for this was that she'd also taken a neatly calligraphed piece of paper and marked one bunk as "MA+AMANDA", dropped her own pillows in the space and topped it with the plushie squid that often also adorned her bed at the mansion.
The first day of driving was long, and expectedly, most of everyone hadn't yet fallen into the dulled state of 'ran out of things to do in the car' - it was still a little fresh and strangely exciting to be driving for so long, doing crosswords and making weird sandwiches in the RV. It was dark when Marie-Ange came back to the RV from a shift in one of the cars, and she stumbled a little out of the cramped little bathroom, damp washcloth still in hand.
Sitting up in the bunk bed allocated as theirs, Amanda looked up from the book she was reading and gave Marie-Ange a welcoming smile. She was wearing one of the collection of over-large t-shirts she used as sleepwear and her hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head. "I'd scooch over, but there's not really anywhere to scooch," she said wryly.
"It is a good thing you are short." Marie-Ange said, as she sat down on the edge of the bunk. She had a set of broken-in flannel sleep pants, and a tank top on, and a pair of socks, though she toed those off just after sitting down. "I think I need to not do any more actual driving shifts at sunset. I had to switch to shotgun, I was having trouble gauging distances between cars." She tapped the eyepatch, one of the rare plain black ones. "Gave myself a headache and had to take the prosthetic out, so I am off driving for a bit."
"I'm not short, I'm conveniently pocket-sized," replied Amanda with a snort. "Come sit in front of me, I'll work on your neck and shoulders - that usually helps with the headaches." She spread her knees apart under the blanket and patted the space between.
"Travel sized for my benefit." Marie-Ange barely needed the invitation, and gracelessly dropped onto the bunk. "It is very strange to have a headache and not have it turn into a migraine." She wiggled back towards Amanda, making a conscious choice to press into her girlfriend's lap a little before scooting forward to create space and room. "How are you finding the trip? We have gone through five or six small cities already."
After planting a kiss on the nape of her girlfriend's neck in response to the wiggle, Amanda began massaging the tight muscles of Marie-Ange's neck and shoulders, lifting an eyebrow at just how tense they were but not saying anything. Instead, she answered her question. "Well, I've been eating like a horse, which usually happens when I don't get enough juice for my powers. The States just don't have the sort of extended history that Europe does, so the cities aren't really developed enough to give me much. I might try some of the native sites if we pass close enough - that worked with Nate that time after that Vegas job. Remember that? The one where Remy and Nate took a bunch of us to steal Cerebro files?" She snickered. "Ah, the good old days."
"I still have poker chips from that that you and Doug and Jubilee gave me." Marie-Ange said. "I do not even know why Jubilee gave me one. We still hated each other." She made a groan as Amanda found a particularly tense spot. "I saw someone did some cross reference on the atlas of sites, I assumed it was you or Wanda. Though, really everyone drew all over the main one. I should have assigned colour coding."
"Oh, that must have been Topaz - she's sneaky thoughtful like that." Amanda focused on a knot along her girlfriend's shoulder blade as she spoke. "Just don't let Maya or Forge know this colonizer is leeching off their sacred sites," she added with a chuckle. "Ooh, are we going to be anywhere near those old cities in the canyons? 'Cause I've always wondered what those taste like." She knew Marie-Ange would understand what she meant by the taste of a place - it was the best metaphor she'd been able to find for her particular powers.
Amanda couldn't see it, but Marie-Ange rolled her eyes at the mention of Maya. They'd made a truce when Topaz disappeared, kept it when she returned, but the young woman irritated her like none other. "One of the markers was close to our route so I think so? If not, as long as this works, we can make a stop on the way back. Someone has to bring these cars back to the mansion." She huffed a little. "I had to promise that once we were done with them being boring, that our resident car people could play with them. So as long as we do not get blown up in the desert, the mansion gets a free RV."
One eyebrow went up. "Why would they want a RV when they've got the fucking stealth plane?" Amanda asked, then shook her head. "Whatever. Americans are balmy about their cars. Must have broken Scott and Forge's brains to not be able to turn this thing into a rolling computer lab or something."
"I have stopped asking questions, but I think Scott may have gotten a little teary eyed that we were not completely rebuilding the engine on the black car." Which is part of why she had to promise not to blow them up in the desert. Marie-Ange made another groan that turned into a blissful hiss as a knot in her shoulder loosened. "Do you know, I have managed to not yet meet our new Forge? Funny he does not even have it in his name, different background, but oh, there is that same arrogance."
"And then some. You're not missing anything by not having met him yet, even if he's a lot prettier than our version. This one's even worse with the social cues, if you can believe it." She moved onto the other shoulder blade - it wasn't as knotted as the first one, but it needed some work. "And I’m probably going to have to work with him at some stage - he's got himself a massive magical block that needs attention." Amanda huffed out a breath. "Maybe Topaz can take him."
"I can believe it. I have heard a little." Marie-Ange agreed. "You know, it would be good for her, and from what I do know of the man, Topaz may be more palatable to him." She rolled her neck, and it popped twice. "He has some of the same low level hostility that Maya has, which is understandable. If he is blocked, perhaps Topaz can get through where you could not. To him, you look white and British, and he cannot see past your hair and accent. He may not make the same mistake with Topaz."
"I was half-joking, but you're right. She can at least get him started." Amanda finished her massage by gently pulling back on Marie-Ange's shoulders to stretch things out and let them move back into place. "There y'go. You should be able to sleep a bit better now."
"Such as sleep is, in a bunk with an octopus for a girlfriend." Marie-Ange's nose wrinkled up in amusement, and arched her back a little to test her muscles. "That is so much better. I would make it up to you, but neither of us is quiet and I do not think being stabbed to death by our co-workers or friends would be a good idea. Maybe on the return trip."
