2014.02.18 - The Two Odame's

It was time for Kwabena to face his demons. Particularly, one demon that has come to be known simply as 'Shift Beta'. Monet St. Croix had done some genetic tests on him, and he seemed to mirror Kwabena's DNA in every single detail, save for one uniquely different sequence of Beta's X-Gene.
Simply put, Shift Beta had 'evolved' differently. There were the genetic footprints to support Kwabena's ability to modify his body's matter phases, however, at some point in Beta's past, a few particular base pairs changed, creating a different ability; the ability to sense, nullify, and even reverse X-Gene mutations.
All signs point to one scientific fact. Genetically speaking, the two men are almost identical. Only an age difference, and this one particular genetic base pair, sets them apart.
Kwabena has spent some time away from the institute to clear his head. Now, he stands in the science lab alone, looking into the sealed off room where his counterpart has remained in sedated isolation. He hasn't yet called for anyone, but given his recent absence and otherwise quiet return, it may not be difficult to guess where he's gone off to.
It wasn't that hard for Jocelyn to figure out where Kwabena was. She'd been in the Danger Room for a session, and had spotted a couple lifesigns in the science lab. Now, Jocelyn wasn't the scientific type, not really. She's taking some basic college courses, but that didn't mean she could really do heavy scientific analysis of anything. She was just good at observing the way energy observes. One of these days, she should see if someone can build some sort of glasses to record things the way she sees them.
Maybe she should talk to Forge or Doug about that.
Regardless, Jocelyn decided to step in and see what was going on, out of sheer student curiosity. So she walks in and spots Kwabena standing there. "Hey Kwabena," Jocelyn greets her friend. Nothing else is said aside from the greeting for the moment, letting him decide if he wants her to stay or go.
The first thing that Betsy did when her powers returned was scan the new, older Kwabena's mind; genetic testing can't tell the whole story where duplicates are concerned, and in a world where minds, souls, and bodies can be traded, twisted and corrupted with little more than an act of malevolent will, she was unwilling to settle for anything less than total certainty.
Since then, she hasn't seen much of either of them; with Shift Alpha, it was rather elementary, what with him spending time away from the mansion. Keeping her distance from Beta was much more of a conscious choice, though; the temptation to dig through his memories, to get some inkling of how things could potentially go for her friends and herself is a powerful one, and his sedation has only exacerbated it
So when Kwabena-the-younger returns and makes the science lab his first destination, there's a moment of conflict for the British-born mutant who'd like nothing more than to check in on her friend and teammate; concern ultimately wins out over temptation, though, and shortly after Jocelyn delivers her greeting, Betsy enters the lab in a Banksy shirt and a pair of jeans. Her eyes drift towards the isolation room initially, but soon focus on Jocelyn, and finally Kwabena as she approaches the latter.
"Good afternoon," she offers to both of them with a small, stiff wave, stopping well before actually getting near the Ghanian. "How has--how is he doing?"
Kwabena doesn't turn until he can make out the height of the first incoming shadow, at which point he develops a good idea of who's joining him. He glances over his shoulder, giving Jocelyn a smile that's not entirely committed. "Hey, Detroit." He's still wearing his usual garb; almost skinny, designer jeans picked up at sample sale, a black shirt, leather jacket. The jacket has seen better days, and is sporting a few conspicuous holes.
"Good work back dere, in Brooklyn," he says to Jocelyn. His voice is decidedly dry. "And thanks fah patching up dose injuries."
When Betsy comes in shortly after Jocelyn, he's positioned to notice her arrival more easily. A touch of conflicted dourness leaks away from him, and he turns around to look at the man beyond those glass doors.
Shift Beta's eyes are closed, stubble on his face in a patchwork of curly black and grey.
"From one lab to anodah," he answers. "Probably doesn't even realize where he is." A glance is given to a small computer screen fixed to the wall next to Beta's isolation room. "Vitals ah strong."
There's little emotion in Kwabena's voice, as if he were approaching the situation clinically.
"Good work yourself," Jocelyn responds to Kwabena. "Thanks for letting me borrow the helmet. Shined it all back up for you". She'd deposited it back on Shift's bike when she'd finished. "And anytime on the injuries". It was what she did. A nod is given to Betsy when she enters. "Hey".
That's when Jocelyn turns to actually look over at the isolation tank. She chews her lip a little bit. So this was Shift Beta. She was decidedly unphased by his presence, a fact that is easily noted by her body language. Go time traveling and dimension hopping enough times and a mirror-verse copy of someone is just not all that shocking anymore. "Given he's out like a light, I doubt he knows. I'm not seeing any problems from where I stand," Jocelyn adds. She wasn't sure what the plan was for him, but she also was in no position to make those decisions either.
"Once Monet and the other academics have had their fill of data," Betsy quietly muses as she joins the other two in turning to gaze into the glass room, "we move on to the--interesting challenge of figuring out what to do with him. He isn't quite--"
She takes a quick glance towards Kwabena before staring back into the isolation room with a momentarily tightened jaw; after relaxing, she continues, "He's more different than he looks, is all; we may have to consider our options for integrating him, if we can't find a way to send him home," all in the contemplative voice of the woman who oversaw the mission that brought this doppelganger to their doorstep; he's still her responsbility, even if she can't do much for or about him, now.
After slowly exhaling, she turns her head just far enough to peer towards Jocelyn. "Brooklyn, hm?" she wonders with an arching brow
Encouragement from Jocelyn brings a break in Kwabena's clinical expression in the form of a slanted grin that is uniquely his. "Thanks. I'm still polishing up de bike, it took some real damage. Gives me an excuse to throw in some few upgrades, dough."
His attention is drawn back to 'Shift Beta'. He bites his tongue time and time again. Had he not taken time away to clear his head, that likely wouldn't have been the case. Kwabena is impulsive, far too quick to judge. Some might call him a loose cannon. He's trying to be better, and this very well may explain the silence that lingers long enough for Betsy to draw the conversation back to Brooklyn.
"Some nutcase," he offers. "Ovahdrive?" He glances toward Jocelyn, having trouble remembering the villain's name. "One of dese days, peopah ah going to learn dat de tri-state area has de highest concentration of metahumans in population, and start screwing with places like London, or Tokyo."
At which point? The X-Men will probably begin expanding operations. The thought of it draws a slight grin to his lips.
Turning back toward their would-be captive, however, a long sigh is let out through his nostrils. "His powah is de elimination of ours," he points out, casting a glance toward Betsy. While he could certainly see uses for that -- there were any number of mutants who might like to be rid of their purple skin or reclaim the ability to touch another without risking death -- there were countless others who would be opposed to the very idea of such a thing.
Bootfalls lead Kwabena toward the glass door, and he looks in. There's a long, drawn moment where he seems to be wrestling with something, going so far as to lift a hand and press it against the glass.
"He won't be happy if he wakes up in restraints like dis." He steps away, turning about to face the others. He looks between both for a moment, before each eyebrow shoots upward.
"I wouldn't."
"Yeah. Some guy who caused cars to be possessed and charge through a shopping area". Jocelyn had considered the guy a bit of a nutjob. Then the conversation is back on the topic of Shift Beta. "I'm not so sure we have a lot of options for time and dimension hopping. That's really the Legion's department. They probably know more about that sort of thing than anyone else. Have we considered talking with them about our problem?" Jocelyn asks. Because it wasn't like they had anyone with such powers at the mansion, as far as she knew.
"Possession of the power isn't a crime. It's how he uses it," Jocelyn states. "I would bet that there are other power neutralizers out there that we just don't know about". Because they weren't running around randomly shutting down other mutant's powers in New York City. She doesn't know his intentions yet, however.
Jocelyn doesn't say anything regarding the restraints. That was so not her call either. There were totally benefits to being the youngest member here. Lack of decisions to make being chief amongst them!
"Sounds like a proper riot," Betsy murmurs, smiling a little as she looks back into the isolation room. There's a part of her that's sad to have missed something as purely and unambiguous as stopping a maniac from mowing down shoppers; it beats weighing the ethics of dealing with an unconscious time-traveller who has the power to shake her team and school to their foundations.
She just listens as Jocelyn and Kwabena discuss the implications of that power, her smile all the while fading until she's regarding the time-lost Ghanian with a grim and thoughtful expression. As frightening--as isolating as the hours of silence that followed in the wake of his discovery were, the younger woman has a point: intent isn't everything, but it's certainly something, where power is concerned.
"If it's really as easy as handing him over and letting them fuss over getting him back home--so be it," she says to Jocelyn as she presses - and then splays - a hand against a glass wall. "He doesn't belong here--and not only' because we've already got a perfectly good Kwabena of our own." Flashes of purple fire flicker around her temples and the the restraints; the latter loosen to the point of affording Shift Beta the freedom to move around, or even slip out of the bindings once he's awake and aware enough to do so.
Once that's taken care of, she, too, turns her back to the duplicate and leans gently against the glass. As she glances to each of her fellow X-People in turn, she continues, "He could do a world of good for a minority of our community; he could even, one day, be an enormous trump in our deck, if he could be convinced to take up our cause. And all it would take is one wrong turn - one moment of anger, of sadness, of losing his will--one mistake--to neutralize it."
"Rokk Krinn was willing to help us out with New Horizons." Kwabena nods his head toward Jocelyn when she recommends advising the Legion. "I've no doubt he'd help us again. And... I have de feeling he undahstands our need for discretion."
As his two teammates discuss the particulars of ability versus intent, he grows silent and visibly contemplative. Betsy gets a brief, smirk-laden glance when she mentions him in such light. One of the reasons this whole situation has bothered him has to do with there being, well, another 'him' around. Silly as it is, he's comforted in knowing that he's still considered unique.
"Well, de same could be said for any of us," he points out. His eyes turn back toward his counterpart, lower lip curling under his teeth for a moment. His eyes pass from Jocelyn to Betsy, thoughtfully.
"If de three of us lost our powahs..." He nods his head back toward his counterpart. "We could take him."
His shoulders straighten and he looks back toward the sleeping Ghanaian. "Maybe we should wake up. Let him know what's going on, give him some few options."
"Fair enough; having the power to neutralize selves is hardly better," Betsy admits of her own potentially ruinous gift with a grimace. "But yes: in this contained environment, I suppose that he isn't much of a threat."
This is probably why, when Shift suggests waking him, she responds by quietly heading for a nearby control panel to unseal the isolation room door so that she can enter it. After making sure the proper machines are shut off - mainly, whatever is delivering the sedatives - she stops beside the head of the duplicate's bed to gently press her fingertips to his temples. Before delving into his mind, she looks back towards Kwabena to suggest, "I think that you should get in touch with him--ASAP; let him know that we'll owe him, if it's a burden on he and his team. I would think that it's the least we can do." And then, she fixes her gaze to Shift Beta for a lingering moment before shutting her eyes and letting psychic wings unfurl around her head as she establishes contact. Her target is a touch more physical than the norm, though: rather than trying to root around his brain for more information, she just wants to control its chemistry--to give his body a leg up in fighting off the effects of the drugs coursing through it. He'll likely be groggy when he comes to, but given a few seconds, he will' come to.
It was a clever move of Jocelyn's, to go and wait outside. She understood his desire for privacy, and plus... should Shift Beta find a way to physically overpower both himself and Betsy, odds are she'd be waiting outside to surprise him. It was a good plan.
As soon as Betsy has entered the isolation room, Kwabena is not far behind. He's listening to her words, and as she presses her fingers to Beta's temple, he begins to fully remove the prisoner's restraints. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but he's going off the advice of someone else he trusts.
When he wakes up, make sure he's not in chains.
"It'll be done," he acknowledges. Getting in touch with Rokk was easy... though he fails to mention the burden they've inadvertently placed upon the Legion already. As he understood from news reports, the refugees from New Horizons were being remanded into the Legion's custody while other legal matters were being sorted out.
Kwabena goes chillingly silent when those violet colors spring to life. It was always something that fascinated him, how her psionic powers held a visible manifestation. He takes a few steps back, looking on.
When Shift Beta opens his eyes, they are indeed groggy. His head lilts forward for a moment, before he draws a long and slow breath through his nose. Eyes of straight brown -- no silver -- eventually rise, and the two men look at each other for a long and silent moment.
That distinct signature - suppressible in a pinch, yet often allowed to flare freely regardless - has been with Elizabeth for as long as she's had her powers, and given the twisting, jumbled path she's taken through life, those astral butterfly's wings have become a constant in her world. As Beta's eyes open, that psychic signature fades into nothingness and she takes a step backwards to give the man some space. She lets out a small breath of when she sees - up close, without the distraction of being delayed and depowered - that even his eyes aren't quite like those of the man that she knows.
"Kwabena," she murmurs, nodding to Beta once she's given them their moment of silence, "meet Kwabena." There's a veneer of lightness to it, as if she's somehow hoping to make the situation better through humour; it doesn't take a psychic to tell that even she isn't really buying it, though. "You two have precious little in common, but I'm sure you're no less fascinating; can you tell us what you remember, before that sealed room in Nevada?"
"Odame." The hoarse words come from the man seated in that chair.
"Ahnbah Province," answers Kwabena, 'Shift Alpha', as it were. "Kwabena is your natural name. Your Christian name, den? Is it Isaac?"
Shift Beta nods his head slowly.
Then, for a brief few moments, the two men exchange words in their native tongue. It's the Dangme dialect, to be precise, easily spoken and tinged with a touch of aggression on both fronts. However, before Isaac rises from his seat, Kwabena motions toward Betsy, and speaks a few more words in their native tongue.
Kwabena takes a step back, his eyes narrowed while Isaac turns about and comes slowly to his feet. The men have identical height, though Isaac is more slender, as if more agile and less strong than Kwabena. He looks Betsy over, then develops a rueful expression. "He says you cahn help me." It's worth noting that his accent seems far stronger than Kwabena's dialect, as if he'd spent far more time in Ghana than the United States.
"What is Nevada?" asks Isaac, eyes narrowing much like Kwabena's. "I was in New York. Now I ahm heah." He reaches for his wrists, feeling them with aged hands. Something about them brings a frown to his face, observing how much weight he seems to have lost in what seems like such a short time to him. "I do not undahstand. What is going on heah?" He glances back toward Kwabena, then to Betsy. "What was I doing in Nevada?"
Betsy can do little but watch as the two men talk things out. Watch, and stand a bit straighter when she's gestured towards; she at least resists the reflexive urge to ball her hands into fists, too. Even when Isaac stands; despite all the precautions taken, he's still a stranger, which puts him only a few short steps away from being a threat.
When he actually addresses her, she passes a faintly bemused look towards Kwabena, then tries to set her features to something more neutral as she looks back to Isaac with a slow nod. "Perhaps. Depending on what it is you need help with. She has her own ideas of how to help him, of course, but the entire point of waking him was to give him some agency in making those decisions; for now, she's willing to run with that.
There's a sharp, frustrated sigh when he asks what Nevada is, and it comes with a frown. "I was hoping you could tell us. When we found you, you were in a sealed room, attached to machines, a good... three thousand miles away from New York. You were being used; I don't know how it is that you came to be there." After an uncertain look towards Kwabena, she takes a step nearer and tentatively wonders, "Do you? Can you tell us what the last thing you remember happening to you in New York was?"
Betsy's look is met with a shade of doubt. Kwabena simply elects to remain out of the conversation unless he's drawn into it. He's observing.
Isaac tenses as more light is shed upon his predicament. Both Kwabena and Betsy will feel a growing disconnect at the edge of their mutant powers, as if a bubble of nullification is forming.
"I taa! Hawoluwah!" Kwabena sharply announces.
Isaac relaxes the tension in his limbs, fingers uncurling. "You. Your peopah, Kwabena. You've been watching me, haven't you." Isaac doesn't even look away from Betsy, even though he seems to be addressing his doppelganger. "How do I know you ah some peopah I can trust?"
"Dat's not de way we do things," answers Kwabena. "You should know, I wouldn't stab me in de back."
This draws a familiar, rueful smirk from Isaac. He nearly looks back at Kwabena, but he still considers Betsy a threat. It's the way she carries herself. Strong, poised, graceful. Capable.
"You're a clevah one, Kwabena. I didn't realize it until now." Isaac then focuses upon Betsy. "I was in Gotham, at de lounge with my peopah. I went into de back to relax, den? Nothing. I remembah some few things, but..." He shakes his head. "Unclear."
With a deep and nervous breath, Isaac finally turns away. He runs his hand over the chair he woke in, fingers drifting in a testing manner over the restraints. "Dis is not de world I come from," he surmises. "Where I come from, dere ah only some few, like me. De cleansing. We reversed it all, de mutant infection. And dey loved us for it, because we set things right. We put dem de way dey once were. I hope you undahstand what I mean."
Isaac finally turns a hesitant look upon Kwabena. He looks the man up and down, remembering a younger version of himself. Then, his head drifts toward Betsy. He raps his fingers upon the restraints. "You don't approve of it, do you?" he asks. "De cleansing. You... you peopah actually like your mutations." He speaks as if such an idea were counter to sanity.
Elizabeth doesn't get any closer as her extranormal perceptions unexpectedly dim, but her right hand does clench tightly, and the way that she shifts her stance so that she's standing with most of her weight forward, on her right leg is telling: if that nullifying bubble were to expand - to intensify - she is ready to stop it as swiftly as her training will allow. That added bit of tension won't go anywhere until Isaac gets his power back under control, and even when he does, it's slow to fade.
Especially when he talks about the 'cleansing'; she'd only gotten snippets of his history - enough to confirm that he wasn't an immediate threat. That he was not only instrumental in, but proud of the near-eradication of her people is news, and it's enough of a surprise that she takes a step away from the man with wide, unbelieving eyes.
"We see them as gifts," she replies after swallowing; she has to fight to keep a measured tone, and given the mix of confusion and disgust on her face, it's something of a futile effort anyway. "And we try to teach those who don't fully grasp the breadth of theirs how to embrace them--to flourish with them, rather than in spite of them. To--cherish what they've been blessed with, rather than running from it; what you're telling us--it sounds like the act of a woefully confused and misguided people."
"I don't care."
Oddly enough, there is no hostility in Isaac's rebuttal. He watches Betsy's response with the curiosity of a scientist, only drawing the nullifying effects away when all is said and done. "It is our way. It is what we do. And everyone embraces it."
"Dat is your world," interjects Kwabena. "Not ours."
Isaac turns to face Kwabena, smirking. He speaks a few phrases in Dangme, but Kwabena's answer comes in English.
"It's quantum physics. De idea of infinite possibilities, infinite realities. It took me a long time to believe it, but look. At you." He gestures Isaac's way. "You're walking proof. I don't know when, but at some point, our paths went different ways." He spreads his hands apart, indicatively. "What you did dere? It's not welcome here."
"Isn't it?" asks Isaac.
"And we'll fight you if you try and change dat."
The two men stare each other for a long and very intense few moments. Each of them looking at each other with the same challenge in their eyes; a battle of matching wits.
It is Isaac who breaks that silence. "I thought you said you wouldn't stab yourself in de back."
"Don't make me prove us wrong."
Isaac turns back to face Betsy. "You see dem as gifts." He scowls, as if such things were simply and utterly unacceptable. "Pahhaps I don't want to be in your world, aftah all."
"You'll be a tahget here," adds Kwabena. He looks past Isaac, giving Betsy a supporting look. He doesn't like what his counterpart is saying, either. It is similarly disturbing to Kwabena. But they have him on the side of a potential agreement... opportunity is upon them. "You've already drawn attention, Isaac. It won't stop, as long as you're here."
"What about you?" asks Isaac, his eyes firmly fixed and unmoving as they challenge Elizabeth's stance. "Will you fight me if I don't play nice?"
Elizabeth meets the challenge with hard eyes and silence; the two Odames' debate affords her ample time to put on a properly determined face, and the content of it - the parts that she can hear and understand, anyway - gave her plenty of reason to. Until engaged, she was content to stand back and let the pair talk things out amongst themselves again, though she certainly returned her teammate's look and affirmed his warning with a grim nod and a dour look.
Unlike Kwabena, her steely demeanour cracks almost immediately after Isaac locks eyes with her to allow a thin, humorless smile to show through; there's little use in engaging in a protracted battle of wills if both parties are on the same fundamental page, after all.
"I don't know if it'll come to that," she admits, folding her arms over her chest. "We aren't like the people who took you; if you don't want to be here, we wouldn't dream of keeping you." One of her hands slips free so that it can be offered out in a gesture of good faith.
"As long as you're willing to be patient, I do believe that we'll be able to find a way to get you back home. Where you belong; sound good?"
Isaac considers the woman's offer for a long time. His eyes glance about, appreciating the design of the room in which he'd awoken. It reminds him of the place he'd left behind -- a decade or so along in years, but not so different in terms of technology.
Meanwhile, Kwabena holds his breath. If a stalemate could be brokered, if even for a time, then perhaps this will work. Perhaps they'll have the time they need to set things right.
"I suppose dere ah some ground rules I'll need to follow," answers Isaac with a glib timbre. "No... cutting off mutant expressions, and certainly no permanent reversals."
"You can deal with dat, Kwabena" says Kwabena, knowingly.
Isaac looks surreptitiously over his shoulder at Kwabena. "De name of a child. Don't use it again." Then, he looks back at Elizabeth, and decidedly strikes forward, grasping her hand in a way that is both agreeable, and yet determined. "Three weeks. Aftah dat? Deal's off. If you can't get me back to my world... I'll mend this one until it's mine."
It's far less a threat than a promise. In his heart, Isaac does not mean ill will. He doesn't care how it translates to Earth-616.
"You'll be welcome to try," Elizabeth replies, gripping Isaac's hand firmly. "I don't think I like the odds of either of you keeping your word, if it comes to that, though." The response--threat--promise--whatever--is delivered with a small smirk and a spark of levity; it isn't toothless, per se, but there isn't much animosity in it either. She doesn't want to wind up in conflict with the man - certainly not over something so enormous as the fate of her species - but there's no mistaking that she's ready and willing to rise to his challenge if pushed.
Category:Log