xp_logs | Skippy, Part 2a: Attack of the Clones (Reply)

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Charles soldered three final connections into place and wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. Replacing the walls of the psionic suppression chamber after Nathan's . . . accident, crisis, epiphany, however one wanted to term it . . . had been easy, or at any rate as easy as repairing the more sensitive areas of the basement ever was. The circuitry behind them had proved significantly more challenging. Fortunately, Erik had been a meticulous record-keeper, and Charles had tinkered with the room often enough himself that he was up to the task.

Or, at least, he hoped so. There was only one way to find out. Charles wheeled himself over to the door, latched it–as a safety precaution, the field generators were physically incapable of activating when the door was open, which helped contain leakage–and activated the room.

The world went dead. Charles congratulated himself. Between this, and redesigning Cerebro, he was turning into quite an accomplished engineer in his old age–if a specialized one.

The series of clicks that announced the door locks engaging drew him out of his contemplation. That was certainly no safety precaution. He must have miswired something in the door, although he didn't think he'd touched the lock system . . .

The keypad had gone dead as well. This, he was beginning to suspect, smacked of something more deliberate than a crossed wire–and if someone had locked him in deliberately, it followed that he was needed outside.

Unfortunately, while the sliding door was certainly secure, and boasted a technological sort of style, it was lacking in the easily-pried hinges department. Charles managed to remove the cover from the control panel, a briefly heartening triumph that lasted only until he determined that no power was running to it at all, and it would therefore be of no help in his escape.

One of the aluminum support struts from the back of his chair provided a rough prybar, which he attempted to wedge into the doorjamb. A slim chance was better than driving himself slowly mad, wondering what was happening to his students.

Alison grinned as she leaned back into the chair, watching Artie and Miles talking to each other in a weird pidgin of speech, furiously moving hands and bubble images that tended to be very silly to say the least if you weren't following every level of conversation. The still ongoing sign language classes with Doug had been a brilliant idea to say the last - as following them with Miles had been, since she could catch all the undertones including the one about raiding the cookie jar later on.

She snickered and kept the fact that they'd not be doing anything of the sort to herself, idly checking the clock. Jamie had asked for her to keep them busy until he was ready to pick them up for a Dairy Queen outing, which hadn't been too hard to do - Miles was practicing trying to control his power, had been for a few months now - and right now the boys were actually standing almost three feet away from each other, the most significant success Miles had encountered in his quest to master his power.

He paused, clenching his eyes shut, just outside the closed door. This would be . . . challenging. These were people who knew the dupe very well, had lived with him and talked to him. People who--with the exception of the little green boy--had cared about him, before the accident--although obviously not enough that they weren't just fine with settling for the dupe; Alison hadn't looked for him either. And he'd have to bury that, and bury Hydra, and all the other pain, and become completely Jamie again for a short while.

It would be a challenge. It would also be a down payment on what his life would be like again once all the obstacles had been removed. He hitched the bag on his shoulder, hiding the glove until the time came to use it, and pushed the door open with a smile.

"Hey, Alison. Hey, guys. Ready to go?"

Two sets of eyes turned to stare at him curiously, Miles losing his concentration on the post, causing Artie's question mark image to pop out of existence and be replaced by a quickly crafted hand sign.

Alison saved Skippy from having to acknowledge that unknowingly, giving him a wide cheerful smile of welcome. "Heya Jamie!" She bounced to her feet and walked up to stand by the two boys still staring at him, Miles slowly looking up at her with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

"Alison was keeping us busy!" he exclaimed in realization, grinning widely as he knew only too well that this meant something good. "Where is Jamie taking us?" he hopped up and down a bit, giving Artie a thumbs up, chortling in glee.

He hesitated, almost imperceptibly--the green kid couldn't talk right?--then widened his grin. "Oh, I was thinking . . . Dairy Queen? Nice day for it, isn't it?"

Cheers of delight echoed within the music room as both boys literally mobbed him for the offer, Alison chuckling indulgently in the background. "Hey, dog piling him isn't going to get you there sooner," she teased, laughing once more as they both scrambled off as quickly as possible.

His expression went a little stiff when the boys piled on, but he managed a casual wave to Alison. "I'll try not to sugar them up too much before I hand them back. See you later."

Alison frowned at that a little, tilting her head to the side. Almost she called out to ask him if everything was all right, but instead she stopped herself, shaking her head as she listened to the boys' cheerful yodeling as they headed out, leading their benefactor away as fast as they could.

A few minutes later, he pushed the door open again, expression neutral. The bag was down off his shoulder, its zipper open partway. "Forgot something," he said by way of explanation.

Alison looked over her shoulder from where she was putting her guitar away, giving him a concerned look. "Hey..." After a moment's hesitation she shrugged to herself, turning back to close the latch of the case. "You ok, kiddo?" she asked, straightening up to turn once more, facing him.

"Not yet, but I will be." His left hand darted into the bag, and came out covered in a dark green leather glove, glistening talons extruding from the fingertips. He darted forward, exploiting her moment of shock to sink them into her shoulder. "I'm really sorry about this, Alison. I wish I didn't have to do it, but I deserve my life back, don't you think?"

"Whaa-" she gasped, eyes widening as numbness swept through her with frightening speed, legs giving away and spilling her to the floor. Her hands slammed down and she managed to absorb some of the impact before her arms gave way, turning her body so that she landed on her back. "Jamie, what's goin-" she tried to ask, the words more slurred than anything else. What are you talking about?

He crouched, watching her struggles slacken, all pretense of Jamie's manner falling away. "Have to neutralize all the remaining adults. That's the second part of the plan. Can't let him think he has anyone he can go to instead of facing me." He smiled. "But, see, you aren't going to die. I want a life to come back to once I take care of that dupe you've been coddling, and your friendship's an important part of that."

Eyes widening and breathing light and feathery, Alison looked at him, realization showing clearly on her features. Oh my god, this isn't Jamie... Whatever he'd given her had cut off any control she had over her body and she could feel the numbness growing further, threatening to slowly take her out entirely. And he'd taken the boys.

He cocked his head. "You're worried about the kids, aren't you. Don't be." He chuckled. "I don't have any reason to hurt them. Unless my dupe is stupid, and doesn't cooperate. Then, well, that's the nature of the deal, isn't it? If somebody calls your bluff, you have to follow through. Thoroughly. So that nobody ever calls your bluff again." He chuckled again, high and manic. "Sabretooth taught me that. He doesn't ever bluff."

Her heartbeat was roaring in her ears, and for some reason she couldn't help but think back on how noisy the boys had been and how perfect the acoustics of the room were - which Miles had been testing over and over earlier. She fought to stay awake, staying the encroaching darkness that much longer, eyes narrowing warningly at his words. Don't touch my boy. Don't you touch either of them. Words as plain as day, even if not spoken.

"I don't want to hurt them," he murmured. "Artie's my friend, and the little green kid--Miles?--seems nice. I don't like hurting kids anyway, the noises they make always go right through my skull." He smiled again, thin and cold. "But nothing gets people's attention quite the same way, and I'm betting the dupe's still a sucker for kids."

Miles had been holding his hand when they left. That meant the main "dupe" had been there, the one now independent from Jamie. Vision darkening at the edges, Alison looked at him sadly, trying and succeeding to control her breathing, a thrill of terror for Miles and Artie going through her at his words, spoken with frightening casualness. Miles had been holding his hand, trusting him. Laughing. A silent apology would have to do, but she couldn't let the dupe hovering near her go and could only hope what she was about to do might distract the real one enough for the kids to make a run for it. Hopefully.

"Ah." He cocked his head as if listening, and frowned. "I'd hoped it would take a little longer for them to figure out we aren't going to Dairy Queen. Smart kids. They're going to have to be taught to shut up, th--"

White-out. Light flooded the room, pressing against the walls with an almost physical weight. When it faded, Alison was alone in the room--alone except for a puff of ash, sifting through the air. Flecks of it sprinkled across her face.

He supposed that he ought to be annoyed that they hadn't even given him the option of turning down pain medication this time around, Nathan reflected a little groggily, staring up at the ceiling just above the couch, his book lying forgotten on his chest. But really, drugs weren't always a bad thing. Been--years, at least ten, since he had gotten shot up this badly, and he had forgotten how much it did hurt. Amanda's healing spell had helped, but not enough to have made him at all comfortable unless he got his evil little blue pills every four hours.

His eyelids started to drift shut, almost of their own accord. He wasn't sure what made him resist napping - sleep was probably good - but he forced himself to pick up the book and try and focus on the words on the page. They kept wiggling, though. Someone would surely come along and check on him anytime now, he told himself. Some conversation would keep him awake.

He slipped through the door quickly, eyes darting around. The mercenary was nearly as dangerous as the Professor, in some ways, and had to be neutralized quickly. He almost certainly wouldn't understand.

He found the man lying on the couch, and--this brought an involuntary smile to his lips--the mercenary was injured. Seriously so. Perhaps he wouldn't have to bury the man in dupes after all. That would be convenient.

Jamie--or possibly Hydra, yes, Hydra made more sense, just now--lunged forward, claws fully extended. If he could end it with the poison now, right away, he might not have to die at all.

That was always nice.

Someone running at him. His telekinesis lashed out of its own accord, sending the someone flying back through the air before Nathan had even dropped his book. Hearing the crash from the direction of the bookshelves, Nathan pushed himself up with his good arm, blinking rapidly in that direction. "Jamie?" he said a bit dazedly, trying to figure out why Jamie would be in his rooms running at him, wearing a very weird-looking glove with claws... oh, okay. Not Jamie.

Hydra managed to twist in midair and land in a crouch, turning feral eyes on Nathan. "Not the one you're familiar with." A smile flickered across his lips. "Well. Not right now. Ask again later, when I'm done collecting the fake." He launched himself forward again, duping in mid-spring.

Two not-Jamies. Nathan frowned and flung them both away, a little harder this time. One crashed into the bookshelves again, the other hit the wall with enough force to leave a spiderwebbing of cracks. "I am not," he said as clearly as he could, biting back a cry as he swung his broken leg over the edge of the couch and levitated himself to something approaching being on his feet, "in the mood for bluster. Very much not in the mood."

Perhaps he would have to bury the mercenary in dupes after all. There were four, now, which was a good start . . .

No, three; the one that had hit the wall lost consciousness; its flesh bubbled and melted into a gory puddle, the skeleton rotting away, as his mind withdrew. Well, he could make the numbers up easily enough. He duped again, and circled the man warily. "I don't suppose you'll just look the other way and we won't have to do this."

"I'm thinking no," he said, still drifting a little off the ground. His leg was hanging like a dead weight, and it was taking far too much of his scanty concentration to keep himself airborne and upright. His eyes drifted to the dissolving dupe for a moment, and then back to the ones still on their feet. "I'm thinking Moira's going to be annoyed with me, too," he said, and visualized a wave, a wave of telekinetic energy that smashed into all of the not-Jamies like a water of water crashed against a rocky shore. It did some damage to the furniture too, of course.

The extant dupes all lost consciousness and melted, but not before the kinetic force created more. They shook their heads, eerily in unison. "I'm called Hydra for a reason, you know," one chided. Then all of them leapt.

Well, crap, Nathan thought, levitating himself up and backwards as the dupes rushed him. How precisely did Jamie's powers worked? He'd never sat the boy down and talked about it. Hard to visualize what needed to be done if you didn't know... This time, the telekinetic shockwave tore the dupes apart, rather than simply knocking them down, and Nathan felt himself drifting downwards, his head spinning from an effort that really shouldn't have taken that much out of him...

Hydra strained against the tearing force, but this was a much more effective tactic, and he only managed to scrape together enough energy to spawn a single dupe.

Which soon enough turned into four, and then eight, as they regarded the drifting telekinetic, just out of reach. Perhaps they could throw one of them . . .

Shield, Nathan thought dimly, he needed a shield... He tried to visualize one, but his thoughts disintegrated back into the haze, and he kept sinking further towards the ground.

Ah. Or the mercenary could simply drift within reach. With a wry smile, he reached up and dug all five claws into the man's dangling calf, squeezing deliberately to make sure they seated themselves properly. That took care of that, anyway.

Pain... pain? Panic flashed through him, driving the haze back just a little, and Nathan smashed at the Jamie-shapes in a panic, his telekinesis exploding erratically in several different directions, doing almost as much damage to the room as the not-Jamies. They came apart, a couple of them at the cellular level, he could feel the air around them shiver in that particular way, but others weren't even affected, and he had enough air to moan as he hit the floor, his bad leg first.

One of the remaining dupes picked himself up off the floor and cocked his head curiously, a Jamie-gesture that looked just a trifle studied. "That's a curare derivative," he noted quietly, "in case you were wondering. Paralytic, relaxant . . . you'll be sleeping soon. I don't think you'll die--but you were medicated already when I came in, weren't you? That might make things interesting." He smiled. "If you don't die, I hope we get the chance to talk more, once I've settled myself. The dupe seems to like you."

#...moira...# But she wasn't answering, and he couldn't move, couldn't get up. #...charles?# Nathan tried. Surely Charles would hear him. #...charles, danger...# No answer, and it was getting hard to breathe.... and there were voices shouting at him out of that inner starry sky, shouting and telling him to...

Let go? Oh. Let go that way. Let his telekinesis have its head. He was almost unconscious when he did, so it didn't have all the force behind it that it should have.

But whether guided by luck, Nathan's own fading will, or the massed Askani within him, the telekinetic burst managed to pick up the sharp fragments of broken furniture that lay scattered around the room and whirl them through the air; the remaining dupes fell, gaping slashes widening as they melted.

Elsewhere, another dupe stared into space. Well . . . mission accomplished, after all. Casualties were meaningless as long as the goal was achieved.

Jubilee lined herself up for the vault, focussing herself as she looked at her goal. She'd been practicing her jumps and twists for the last half hour and she could feel it in her upper arms. She'd spent the last couple of months moping about feeling sorry for herself, and now she had to pay for it. You couldn't let yourself go when you were a gymnast, it meant a hell of a lot of work later to get back to just your starting point of fitness, let alone excelling at things.

At least she'd kept up with the uneven bars and self defense training, so she wasn't completely out of shape. Taking a deep breath, she launched herself at the vault, picking up speed for the spring jump and then the push off the vault into the air.

A loud, screechy scraping noise reverberated down the hall outside the gym as she landed; metal grating against the tiled floor.

Jubilee paused, her body still as she heard the noise, and then, on feet as silent as she could make them, she ran up to the entrance of the room and peered out. She could see Jamie moving a metal cabinet against the door of Moira's office.

Jubilee had always been somewhat quick on her feet when it came to putting two and two together, she'd had to be to survive. Jamie was either pulling a prank on Moira, or this wasn't Jamie.

Jubilee was determined to find out which. Having made that decision, she started walking toward him, as quickly and as quietly as she knew how. If it was Jamie, she could pretend that she'd wanted to scare him as a joke, if it wasn't, then she needed to get the drop on him.

He looked up as she approached, head jerking up like a startled animal. "Go away."

Jubilee's brow furrowed, Jamie usually wasn't that rude. "Huh? Jamie, you feelin' okay, Dude? Not lookin' too great there and like, why are you putting that file cabinet in front of the Doc's office? This some kinda prank you and Doug been cookin' up?"

He cocked his head, studying her curiously. "Not exactly. But you should still go."

Jubilee shook her head. "I don't think so, and I think you should move that file cabinet back. What do ya mean, 'Not exactly' anyway? Either yer doin' this for a prank or you've gone nutso when I wasn't lookin', cause I can't think of any other reasons you'd be pullin' around file cabinets like that."

"The cabinet stays where it is," he said flatly. "It's necessary. You're not." His left hand, encased in a leather glove, emerged from where it had been obscured by the cabinet. "I really don't have time for this, Jubilee."

Jubilee started backing up toward the stairs, she'd suspected this wasn't Jamie from the beginning but she had to be sure, she just had to keep him talking till she could reach the stairs. "I think that you're acting really weirdly and maybe you should come see the Professor with me, hey? I mean, come on, Dude. What's with the leather glove? Didn't know you were a Michael Jackson fan."

He smirked. "The Professor's unavailable. And I can't really let you go telling people I'm here. Too soon for that." Claws emerged from the fingertips of the glove as he moved toward her, smiling sunnily. "Don't worry, though, nothing permanent. You're a friend, after all, and I'd rather not have to kill any of my friends."

Jubilee shook her head. "I don't think so, what I think is that you're that Skippy guy and I'm getting' the fuck out of here right now."

Jubilee spread her hands out in front of her and let out a small stream of sparks, aimed directly at Skippy's face. She knew she had to get away, people were going to need warning that Skippy had gotten into the mansion, and Jamie would need warning. Christ, what if this psycho had already gotten to Jamie? To do that she needed to get the hell away, she just hoped that her sparks had been enough to blind him. She wasn't exactly at full strength yet after spending so long in the collar.

Blinking furiously, his face contorted in rage. "Don't call me that, bitch." He charged forward, but was obviously dazed by the sparks, the gloved hand waving wildly.

Seeing that her sparks had had the desired effect, Jubilee bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time and hoping that she could find someone before Skippy caught up with her.

He charged clumsily up the stairs after her, but stopped halfway. Blundering around the upper floors of the house would draw all kinds of unwanted attention, and he needed to stand watch over the medlab just in case.

And anyway, he was nearly to the warehouse with the brats; she wouldn't have time to warn anybody before warnings would become academic anyway. He shook his head roughly to clear the last of the daze, then returned to his post.