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xp_logs2025-06-18 07:51 pm
xp_changeling) wrote in xp_logs2025-06-18 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
NOT ANOTHER TEEN DIMENSION - Jocks
The investigation into the disappearance of the device starts with the Jocks.
“So, in this reality, you’re a star athlete in high school and I’m a member of the Chess and Games Club with the other nerds.” Kane looked down and held out his t-shirt which read ‘v3.0 is my v.20 cover band’. “I don’t even know what this means. Tell me you’ve at least watched a basketball game in your life.”
"I know the ball goes through the hoop?" Jim grimaced. He'd gone over the dossier Marie-Ange had handed him with the same focused anxiety he'd experienced while studying for the NCE, and with the same vague feeling of dread. Claremont High had also bequeathed this version of himself with a letterman jacket, which he had not realized was a real thing.
"I know we need bodies," he continued, "but this feels like a bad idea. I didn't even go to high school. I spent most of the '90s institutionalized."
"Not a lot of choice. Plus, you've worked with teens a lot more than most of us." Garrison said with a shrug. He wasn't too far removed from the era, having been in his early 20s in 2003, but his knowledge of the games, roleplaying and other things associated with this Kane's nerd culture was minimal at best. At least the kid was a fantasy sports nut. Kane could bluff that easily. "Just remember, you're the team's centre. That means the plays turn on you. Defense on the rush, you lead the rebound opportunities in the paint and pick and roll to the basket or to feed the shooting guard for three pointers."
"I'll . . .try to remember that." If you looked, it was just possible to see every word Garrison said piling up behind Jim's eyes like a ten-car accident. The telepath coughed. "Well, if it comes down to it, I can always fake an ankle sprain. How good are you at chess?"
"Pretty decent. Adrienne and I used to play a lot. The problem is that this kid is more into these complicated board games and card games and that DnD stuff. Which, this might shock you, but I don't know much about." Garrison said as they crossed into the cafeteria. In one corner was Victor Creed with a couple of his buddies. He somehow seemed bigger as a teen. "Maybe you can speak jock to jock with him. I'm betting he's not known for a quick game of speed chess."
"I'm both gladdened and horrified by your faith in me. Okay, here goes."
Jim tried to assure himself he could get through this; he did, after all, have the mind of a teenager. Unfortunately it was a sixteen year old pyromaniac. Raising his hand, he did what came least naturally: call attention to himself.
"Victor! You have a minute?"
"Dave. What are you doing hanging with the nerds?" Victor ran his hand through his long blond locks. "You get confused on the way to being stuffed in a locker, fucker."
"Yearbook." Kane piped up. "We're doing bios on our best athletes. You're next."
"Huh." Creed's chest swelled up. "Shoulda been first but fine. You guys beat the fucking Siegel High on Monday so, you know... I guess." He had already erased Kane's presence from his mind.
"The yearbook needs something interesting. Senior pranks, anecdotes, like that thing with the Science Club. Those nerds are devastated. That shit was hilarious." Jim wasn't sure what was more difficult: the sentiment, or trying to find language that wouldn't immediately identify him as a man on the wrong side of forty.
"Aw, the nerds lost something? That's a shame." He smirked. "I wouldn't know anything about that. My boys Fred and Dommy can, what's it called - alibi all three of us."
"Not how an alibi works..." Kane muttered too softly to hear as he eased back, helping to erase himself from Creed's awareness.
"I didn't say you did anything," amended Jim, "but you guys always know what's going on. They were on the scene, right? So they might, uh, 'theoretically' know the deal."
"I mean, we had practice right after school. Most of us were around getting changed." Creed said a bit defensively. "Who said we were around? If it was one of those nerds, I'll stuff him in his locker. Upside down."
Jim shrugged, wishing the experienced interrogator had been the one to end up in this social bracket. "Didn't you know you guys have fans? People notice when you show up somewhere. That's why we thought they'd get a kick out of finding out if you guys were behind it. The yearbook won't be ready until school's practically over, anyway. What's anyone going to do about it by then?"
"Not around him. Hey, dickcheese, get lost."
"Yes sir." Kane said with a mock salute and moved exactly three seats away, still able to hear, but that seemed to satisfy Creed.
"So, you bankrolling Stark for tutoring too?" Creed said to David.
"Well, I have to keep my grades up." That didn't seem engaging enough for a rapport, but suddenly inspiration struck. Jim crossed his arms and let his gaze shift away, pensive. "And, you know, my dad's always riding me for the academic crap. He's always talking about how he was on the football team and valedictorian when he was my age. Getting anything less than an A is the only time he notices me, and it's just to bitch me out."
"Your dad's an asshole. So Lensherr decided that anyone who finishes the year on academic probation doesn't get to try out for the start of the year. I mean, I'm on a full ride to Notre Dame but Fred and Demmy are my boys. They are key for the Claremont football team to be amazing next year without me."
"Right. You three are the backbone of the team, everyone knows that."
"Yeah, but I'm gone. And if he pushes out Fred and Dom, they'll be buried before the season is over. And Stark is good at teaching them."
"Yeah," Jim agreed, "Mr. Lensherr thinks those state academic scores are more important than the team, which is what people actually give a shit about. But what's that got to do with the arrangement with Stark?"
"Little shit got all mad with Dukes over a couple of jokes. Said he didn't care about the money and just wasn't going to tutor them any more. We threatened to re-arrange his face and he still said no." Creed said, clearly considering a great travesty of justice. Kane made a note to suggest Stark take them back and teach them how to do everything wrong. "So while you guys played on Monday, I snuck in and stole their big secret science project. Figure that either Stark starts tutoring them again or they don't get their hamster."
"Their- I'm sorry, what?" Kane blurted out and then waved his hands to ignore him.
Jim knew he was supposed to be treating Creed as a social superior, but it was impossible not to echo Garrison's sentiment. "Their . . . hamster," was all he could manage.
"Yeah. It had all these beakers and things and bubbling shit around it. We figure they're making a super hamster. So, no tutoring, no super hamster." Creed said smugly. "Dukes has it in his locker. Been feeding it Arby's. Hey, you! Geek boy. You take the hamster back to Stark and tell him tutoring is back on. Otherwise, we'll take him again."
"Yes. Yes... sir? Sir. Sure. Um, do you have the hamster?"
"What? Yeah. Hey Dukes!" He yelled over the cafeteria. "Get the hamster!"
"We'll . . . make sure he gets the message." As Dukes ducked out of the cafeteria to retrieve the hostage, Jim locked eyes with Garrison. He didn't dare look anywhere else.
"Vic," said Jim with excruciating exactitude, "I can honestly say I've never met a criminal mind like yours."
"Damn right. Wasn't for me, no way Shuster High's quarterback gets busted with that coke, know what I mean?" He tapped the side of his nose in what he thought was a subtle way. "There. Hey, you, little bitch." He pointed at Kane. "You take this."
"I- wha-" Was all Kane could get out before a teenaged Fred Dukes pushed a cage with a puzzled looking hamster into his hands.
"We dumped out all the hamster super soldier chemicals and shit. Him and his nerds need to make more or whatever."
"What a blow to scientific progress," Jim muttered before remembering himself. Ratcheting his mouth into a smile for Creed and Dukes, he clapped a hand on Garrison's shoulder in a way he hoped approximated human companionability. "Thanks, man. We'll get this where it needs to go. Come on, Gar . . . y."
Once they were safely away from the other two Jim grimaced at Garrison. "Well, so much for that idea. I bet that hamster's not even going to have the decency to turn into a Hulk."
"I've dealt with Victor Creed. He's clever as fuck. That meathead would drown looking up in the rain. And he sounds like the genius of the football team." Garrison held up the cage for a second to peer at the hamster. "So, unless the hamster is destabilizing the universe, I think we can take the jocks off the list as the thieves."
“So, in this reality, you’re a star athlete in high school and I’m a member of the Chess and Games Club with the other nerds.” Kane looked down and held out his t-shirt which read ‘v3.0 is my v.20 cover band’. “I don’t even know what this means. Tell me you’ve at least watched a basketball game in your life.”
"I know the ball goes through the hoop?" Jim grimaced. He'd gone over the dossier Marie-Ange had handed him with the same focused anxiety he'd experienced while studying for the NCE, and with the same vague feeling of dread. Claremont High had also bequeathed this version of himself with a letterman jacket, which he had not realized was a real thing.
"I know we need bodies," he continued, "but this feels like a bad idea. I didn't even go to high school. I spent most of the '90s institutionalized."
"Not a lot of choice. Plus, you've worked with teens a lot more than most of us." Garrison said with a shrug. He wasn't too far removed from the era, having been in his early 20s in 2003, but his knowledge of the games, roleplaying and other things associated with this Kane's nerd culture was minimal at best. At least the kid was a fantasy sports nut. Kane could bluff that easily. "Just remember, you're the team's centre. That means the plays turn on you. Defense on the rush, you lead the rebound opportunities in the paint and pick and roll to the basket or to feed the shooting guard for three pointers."
"I'll . . .try to remember that." If you looked, it was just possible to see every word Garrison said piling up behind Jim's eyes like a ten-car accident. The telepath coughed. "Well, if it comes down to it, I can always fake an ankle sprain. How good are you at chess?"
"Pretty decent. Adrienne and I used to play a lot. The problem is that this kid is more into these complicated board games and card games and that DnD stuff. Which, this might shock you, but I don't know much about." Garrison said as they crossed into the cafeteria. In one corner was Victor Creed with a couple of his buddies. He somehow seemed bigger as a teen. "Maybe you can speak jock to jock with him. I'm betting he's not known for a quick game of speed chess."
"I'm both gladdened and horrified by your faith in me. Okay, here goes."
Jim tried to assure himself he could get through this; he did, after all, have the mind of a teenager. Unfortunately it was a sixteen year old pyromaniac. Raising his hand, he did what came least naturally: call attention to himself.
"Victor! You have a minute?"
"Dave. What are you doing hanging with the nerds?" Victor ran his hand through his long blond locks. "You get confused on the way to being stuffed in a locker, fucker."
"Yearbook." Kane piped up. "We're doing bios on our best athletes. You're next."
"Huh." Creed's chest swelled up. "Shoulda been first but fine. You guys beat the fucking Siegel High on Monday so, you know... I guess." He had already erased Kane's presence from his mind.
"The yearbook needs something interesting. Senior pranks, anecdotes, like that thing with the Science Club. Those nerds are devastated. That shit was hilarious." Jim wasn't sure what was more difficult: the sentiment, or trying to find language that wouldn't immediately identify him as a man on the wrong side of forty.
"Aw, the nerds lost something? That's a shame." He smirked. "I wouldn't know anything about that. My boys Fred and Dommy can, what's it called - alibi all three of us."
"Not how an alibi works..." Kane muttered too softly to hear as he eased back, helping to erase himself from Creed's awareness.
"I didn't say you did anything," amended Jim, "but you guys always know what's going on. They were on the scene, right? So they might, uh, 'theoretically' know the deal."
"I mean, we had practice right after school. Most of us were around getting changed." Creed said a bit defensively. "Who said we were around? If it was one of those nerds, I'll stuff him in his locker. Upside down."
Jim shrugged, wishing the experienced interrogator had been the one to end up in this social bracket. "Didn't you know you guys have fans? People notice when you show up somewhere. That's why we thought they'd get a kick out of finding out if you guys were behind it. The yearbook won't be ready until school's practically over, anyway. What's anyone going to do about it by then?"
"Not around him. Hey, dickcheese, get lost."
"Yes sir." Kane said with a mock salute and moved exactly three seats away, still able to hear, but that seemed to satisfy Creed.
"So, you bankrolling Stark for tutoring too?" Creed said to David.
"Well, I have to keep my grades up." That didn't seem engaging enough for a rapport, but suddenly inspiration struck. Jim crossed his arms and let his gaze shift away, pensive. "And, you know, my dad's always riding me for the academic crap. He's always talking about how he was on the football team and valedictorian when he was my age. Getting anything less than an A is the only time he notices me, and it's just to bitch me out."
"Your dad's an asshole. So Lensherr decided that anyone who finishes the year on academic probation doesn't get to try out for the start of the year. I mean, I'm on a full ride to Notre Dame but Fred and Demmy are my boys. They are key for the Claremont football team to be amazing next year without me."
"Right. You three are the backbone of the team, everyone knows that."
"Yeah, but I'm gone. And if he pushes out Fred and Dom, they'll be buried before the season is over. And Stark is good at teaching them."
"Yeah," Jim agreed, "Mr. Lensherr thinks those state academic scores are more important than the team, which is what people actually give a shit about. But what's that got to do with the arrangement with Stark?"
"Little shit got all mad with Dukes over a couple of jokes. Said he didn't care about the money and just wasn't going to tutor them any more. We threatened to re-arrange his face and he still said no." Creed said, clearly considering a great travesty of justice. Kane made a note to suggest Stark take them back and teach them how to do everything wrong. "So while you guys played on Monday, I snuck in and stole their big secret science project. Figure that either Stark starts tutoring them again or they don't get their hamster."
"Their- I'm sorry, what?" Kane blurted out and then waved his hands to ignore him.
Jim knew he was supposed to be treating Creed as a social superior, but it was impossible not to echo Garrison's sentiment. "Their . . . hamster," was all he could manage.
"Yeah. It had all these beakers and things and bubbling shit around it. We figure they're making a super hamster. So, no tutoring, no super hamster." Creed said smugly. "Dukes has it in his locker. Been feeding it Arby's. Hey, you! Geek boy. You take the hamster back to Stark and tell him tutoring is back on. Otherwise, we'll take him again."
"Yes. Yes... sir? Sir. Sure. Um, do you have the hamster?"
"What? Yeah. Hey Dukes!" He yelled over the cafeteria. "Get the hamster!"
"We'll . . . make sure he gets the message." As Dukes ducked out of the cafeteria to retrieve the hostage, Jim locked eyes with Garrison. He didn't dare look anywhere else.
"Vic," said Jim with excruciating exactitude, "I can honestly say I've never met a criminal mind like yours."
"Damn right. Wasn't for me, no way Shuster High's quarterback gets busted with that coke, know what I mean?" He tapped the side of his nose in what he thought was a subtle way. "There. Hey, you, little bitch." He pointed at Kane. "You take this."
"I- wha-" Was all Kane could get out before a teenaged Fred Dukes pushed a cage with a puzzled looking hamster into his hands.
"We dumped out all the hamster super soldier chemicals and shit. Him and his nerds need to make more or whatever."
"What a blow to scientific progress," Jim muttered before remembering himself. Ratcheting his mouth into a smile for Creed and Dukes, he clapped a hand on Garrison's shoulder in a way he hoped approximated human companionability. "Thanks, man. We'll get this where it needs to go. Come on, Gar . . . y."
Once they were safely away from the other two Jim grimaced at Garrison. "Well, so much for that idea. I bet that hamster's not even going to have the decency to turn into a Hulk."
"I've dealt with Victor Creed. He's clever as fuck. That meathead would drown looking up in the rain. And he sounds like the genius of the football team." Garrison held up the cage for a second to peer at the hamster. "So, unless the hamster is destabilizing the universe, I think we can take the jocks off the list as the thieves."