Madin & Tommy | Jail Kid
Oct. 14th, 2025 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsTommy does what speedsters do: kick ass at table tennis.
ping. pong. ping. pong. ping. pong. ping. pong. pin-
A rapid-fire game of table tennis could be heard from outside the break room, hits always consistent. It had been a good fifteen minutes of this so far.
Madin, walking past, heard the rapidfire pinging and stuck their head around the door. A white-haired blur appeared to be playing table tennis with... themself? Cool. There'd been a briefing about the X-Men's follow up to the jail mission on the server. Was this? Yeah, it was. "Hey, Jail Kid!" It was a welcoming hey jail kid, not a threatening one.
Tommy stopped midway through, catching the ball with one hand as he whipped around to look at whoever had entered. Oh. Within a second he was across the room and right in front of Madin. “You’re the stabby one. Hey!”
"Yeah. That's uh.... yeah, that's pretty accurate, I think? I was um. A bit stabby. I'm not. I don't like jails." Madin shuffled their feet and looked away.
"Does anyone?" He scratched his head a bit. A few weeks away from that place and it was almost back to the length he liked it. The constant shaving for nodes or whatever had been so annoying. "You wanna play?"
"Yeah, okay." Madin picked up the other paddle, fully aware that they were about to get their arse handed to them. That was what speedsters did.
Tommy served. He’d take it easy on them, to start. “So, dude, be honest: is this place a cult or something? It all seems… a little too good to be true.” His hands waved as he talked in between shots, animated.
He was going easy. It was everything Madin could do to keep up. They shook their head, missed the hit and collected the ball, tossing it back to Jail-kid. "Not exactly. Charles Xavier owns the mansion. He's old and kinda idealistic, I guess? So he started a school with this, like, idea that we could live with humans which I guess is what happens when you're rich as fuck and pass, right? Anyway, some shit happened." Don't mention Magneto. "He still believes that, I guess, but now he enforces it with a strike team." It sounded bad.
“Oh so, it’s love, light, and kumbaya until it’s time to storm a prison? Cool cool.”
"The storming a prison part is optional. It's not a... a you know. It's not like you only get the food and shelter in exchange for joining a wetwork squad. This isn't the Brotherhood. We're not that fucked."
Tommy showed off by bending backwards and sending the ball back towards Madin. Upside down, he said, “So you’ve been inside then?”
Madin wanted to blow the kid off but... "Yeah. You could say that."
“Figured. You’re the only one who’s given it to me straight.” The other people he had met were nice but… maybe a bit too nice. Or maybe he’d just been around inmates for too long. Either way, all the questions pointedly didn’t allow Madin to ask him many.
Madin swung at the ball, missed and bent to pick it up off the floor. "They mean well but...." They stood and tapped it back. "They mean well but, like, they also get to a point where they don't realise how fucked up a squad of super militia types in the basement and an interdimensional wormhole is and then it's all 'yeah nah, we're good' but it's a weird good because they literally don't understand why it's cooked."
The other mutant nodded solemnly. "They need to touch grass."
"You have no fucking idea," Madin said. "Seriously."
Tommy managed a tricky little shot into the corner. On the outside it seemed impressive, but he had plenty of time to line it up as the hollow ball slowly floated into his half of the table. He was becoming bored and it showed. Not of Madin, but of the activity. It was a wonder how he managed all that time in a cell with only four walls and the odd book or casette to entertain himself.
Which reminded him. "Dude, what's your name?"
The ball sailed over Madin's shoulder. "Fuck." They picked it up again. "Madin." They paused for a moment, considering. "Want to go get a burger or something, Jail Kid?"
His eyes practically lit up. “Yes!!! I’m so fucking hungry.” One moment he was on his side and the next he was plucking the ball and paddle out of Madin’s hands and putting them back in the basket where they belonged, along with his own. The common room magically tidied itself within in a few seconds.
He was not so messy as to leave the communal spaces a tip.
"Oh, and it’s Tommy. Not Jail Kid.” He didn’t care that much, been called worse, but also didn’t know if they really knew his name.
"Thanks Jail Kid. I'll remember that. So, you coming in the car or just going to run alongside?"
A mischievous grin came over him. “I’m allowed to do that here?”
"Shit yeah."
"I'll make sure to slow down for you then. Race you to the garage!" And he was gone, presumably to the aforementioned garage, but maybe also to grab a coat along the way.
Madin turned and followed, sprinting for the stairs.
ping. pong. ping. pong. ping. pong. ping. pong. pin-
A rapid-fire game of table tennis could be heard from outside the break room, hits always consistent. It had been a good fifteen minutes of this so far.
Madin, walking past, heard the rapidfire pinging and stuck their head around the door. A white-haired blur appeared to be playing table tennis with... themself? Cool. There'd been a briefing about the X-Men's follow up to the jail mission on the server. Was this? Yeah, it was. "Hey, Jail Kid!" It was a welcoming hey jail kid, not a threatening one.
Tommy stopped midway through, catching the ball with one hand as he whipped around to look at whoever had entered. Oh. Within a second he was across the room and right in front of Madin. “You’re the stabby one. Hey!”
"Yeah. That's uh.... yeah, that's pretty accurate, I think? I was um. A bit stabby. I'm not. I don't like jails." Madin shuffled their feet and looked away.
"Does anyone?" He scratched his head a bit. A few weeks away from that place and it was almost back to the length he liked it. The constant shaving for nodes or whatever had been so annoying. "You wanna play?"
"Yeah, okay." Madin picked up the other paddle, fully aware that they were about to get their arse handed to them. That was what speedsters did.
Tommy served. He’d take it easy on them, to start. “So, dude, be honest: is this place a cult or something? It all seems… a little too good to be true.” His hands waved as he talked in between shots, animated.
He was going easy. It was everything Madin could do to keep up. They shook their head, missed the hit and collected the ball, tossing it back to Jail-kid. "Not exactly. Charles Xavier owns the mansion. He's old and kinda idealistic, I guess? So he started a school with this, like, idea that we could live with humans which I guess is what happens when you're rich as fuck and pass, right? Anyway, some shit happened." Don't mention Magneto. "He still believes that, I guess, but now he enforces it with a strike team." It sounded bad.
“Oh so, it’s love, light, and kumbaya until it’s time to storm a prison? Cool cool.”
"The storming a prison part is optional. It's not a... a you know. It's not like you only get the food and shelter in exchange for joining a wetwork squad. This isn't the Brotherhood. We're not that fucked."
Tommy showed off by bending backwards and sending the ball back towards Madin. Upside down, he said, “So you’ve been inside then?”
Madin wanted to blow the kid off but... "Yeah. You could say that."
“Figured. You’re the only one who’s given it to me straight.” The other people he had met were nice but… maybe a bit too nice. Or maybe he’d just been around inmates for too long. Either way, all the questions pointedly didn’t allow Madin to ask him many.
Madin swung at the ball, missed and bent to pick it up off the floor. "They mean well but...." They stood and tapped it back. "They mean well but, like, they also get to a point where they don't realise how fucked up a squad of super militia types in the basement and an interdimensional wormhole is and then it's all 'yeah nah, we're good' but it's a weird good because they literally don't understand why it's cooked."
The other mutant nodded solemnly. "They need to touch grass."
"You have no fucking idea," Madin said. "Seriously."
Tommy managed a tricky little shot into the corner. On the outside it seemed impressive, but he had plenty of time to line it up as the hollow ball slowly floated into his half of the table. He was becoming bored and it showed. Not of Madin, but of the activity. It was a wonder how he managed all that time in a cell with only four walls and the odd book or casette to entertain himself.
Which reminded him. "Dude, what's your name?"
The ball sailed over Madin's shoulder. "Fuck." They picked it up again. "Madin." They paused for a moment, considering. "Want to go get a burger or something, Jail Kid?"
His eyes practically lit up. “Yes!!! I’m so fucking hungry.” One moment he was on his side and the next he was plucking the ball and paddle out of Madin’s hands and putting them back in the basket where they belonged, along with his own. The common room magically tidied itself within in a few seconds.
He was not so messy as to leave the communal spaces a tip.
"Oh, and it’s Tommy. Not Jail Kid.” He didn’t care that much, been called worse, but also didn’t know if they really knew his name.
"Thanks Jail Kid. I'll remember that. So, you coming in the car or just going to run alongside?"
A mischievous grin came over him. “I’m allowed to do that here?”
"Shit yeah."
"I'll make sure to slow down for you then. Race you to the garage!" And he was gone, presumably to the aforementioned garage, but maybe also to grab a coat along the way.
Madin turned and followed, sprinting for the stairs.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-14 10:38 pm (UTC)A mischievous grin came over him. “I’m allowed to do that here?”
Bad habits right out the gate! 😂
no subject
Date: 2025-10-15 03:35 am (UTC)"Jail Kid and Stabby One. They fight and/or do crime."
no subject
Date: 2025-10-15 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-10-17 01:57 pm (UTC)Aww, Madin's making progress! Not so long ago he was totally there in Team "This is such a cult, you'd better believe it". And I enjoy Tommy's laid back attitude in comparison to Madin's intensity. Good log. :)