2012-12-30 Knew that Stark Phone would come in handy

Scott Summers' feet plod along in the fresh snow atop a trail around Breakstone Lake. There are plenty of options in the gymnasium, but Scott preferred to get some fresh air and get a run in out in the weather.
A heavy snow continues to pummel the northeast but it doesn't seem to deter him. He continues along, visible breath billowing out his mouth and over his shoulder. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a black hoodie.
Noh-varr fiddles with the smartphone he 'liberated' from that guy relieving himself on the homeless woman in the ally off of Wall St. Music. Streaming music. Once the currency-limitations were hacked, that is. He started off listening to someone called Bragg and Wilco singing songsy by Woodie Guthrie, then tracked down the originals while riding the train out here in his own jeans and sweatshirt. And beanie. Plaintive singing. Lonesome. Touching his heart. Not lonely... connected, all about community and sharing in the face of abject suffering. There is also anger and humor. Huh, maybe there is something decent about this place after all. We-Plex, where are you? We need to get home. We need to... no. The anger flares to life. We need to change this insufferably rock first. Too much suffering. No sane reason. He sighs and tweaks the phone. That tech signature, hauntingly familiar, appears somewhere out here. Not too far away. But this junk is so imprecise. With earbuds in and looking down, the snow muffling everything around them, Noh-varr barely notices the lake at the moment, the beauty around him. He doesn't even notice that's he's about to walk straight into the path of the jogging Scott.
As Noh-varr approaches, Scott slows down. The pathway isn't really big enough for two of them and they're going to need to do the dance around each other, or one of them will have to walk off the path into the deeper snow that's fallen over the past month. "Hey," Scott says as he gives an upward nod to the young man. "How's it goin?"
Okay, the US telecom satellite will be passing out of range now... TAPPATAPPATAPPATAP Switching the Latverian spy sat piggybacking the Cartoon Network machinery. Closer. Resolving. YES! Resolv-- OOOMPH!
Uncharacteristically clumsy, Noh-varr barrels right into the polite Scott. Noh-varr's face contorts in alarm and anger as the phone sails out of his hand, downhill and into several feet of snow at the bottom. "No!" he whispers before leaping after it with inhuman ability. "NO!!!"
Scott winces as the phone buries itself in the snow. His heart goes out to the guy. Those things are not cheap. But as Noh-varr leaps after it, both eyebrows go up. This young man is perhaps not what he seems. "Is it alright?" he calls down after the boy.
Noh-varr is clawing through snow. "Nonononononono!" He disappears for a moment as he burrows down. Silence. Then pops up a few feet away with phone in hand. Relieved. For a second. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" Soaked. Destroyed. Data lost. Glaring up at Scott. "No. it is. NOT. OK. This is not ok. I am not ok. You are not ok. THIS PLANET IS NOT OK! WHY ARE YOU SO CRAZY!?"
Scott holds his hands up defensively, "Hey, take it easy. It's just a phone. Most data-plans have insurance for water damage. You'll be able to get another one easy."
A vein in Noh's forehead throbs and an eyelid twitches before he regains his cool. "Yes. You are right, monkey person. I will get another one. Easy" He steps lightly back up to the path, in front of Scott, looking him eye-to-glasses. "But will you please tell me where I will get another Merree easy? Please?" Upon the threshold of adulthood, this guy looks like he's been pushed to the edge recently. Make that over. His eyes are holding back desperation and are slightly wet as he grabs Scott's hoodie. "Where can I 'buy' another family?"
"Anoth..." Scott begins but stops right away. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure who Mer..." He stops mid-sentence again and asks, "Are you okay? Do you need some help?" He lets the monkey person jibe go for a moment.
Noh snarls and steps back, letting go of Scott's shirt. "Help. No, thank you." That 'thank you' didn't sound so sincere. Noh presses his fist to his eyes for a moment in pain and then shakes his head violently. "It's all of you who need my help. Whether you want it or not. I just need to find that signature again. I could swear it was almost Shi'ar in flavor. Whatever. I'll get it." It's not that the Kree's just babbling unaware of who's around him, it's that he assumes that Scott won't have any idea of what he's talking about, much less be able to do anything about it. "And then I find the Marvel. And Plex. And we repair. And we rebuild this place before leaving. Make it right." Okay, now he's rambling.
Scott is completely confused. "Wait...Slow down. Signature? Shi'ar? What are you talking about." Scott sighs as a look of pained empathy comes across his face. This young man is obviously crazy. He reaches into his pocket now and produces his own phone, a Stark-Phone he got at this summer's convention. Thumbing at it he looks for the number for the Westchester County Health and Human Services. He needs to get someone out here, clearly, to help this poor kid.
Noh-varr's eyes widen at the sight of the phone. More babbling. "10.5. seconds to reprogram, 2.3 to scan overhead observation faculties, five more to handle encryption and firewall, say twenty conservative to relocate energy signature." His normal sense of ethics have been shredded of late, he reaches out to grab the Starktech from Summers' hands. "Phone! Now!"
"Uhm...no," Scott says, for the first time sounding a bit dismissive. "I need to make a phone call. And you're going to stay right where you are, man. You're sick. You need some help." Scott steps out of Noh-varr's grabbyhands and hits a button with his thumb. He holds his phone up to his ear as the phone makes its connection.
The freaked-outedness that Noh-varr has been radiating evaporates. There's only cool calmness and awareness left behind as he realizes that Scott is calling for "help" for him. "More Earth "security"? More Earth "medicine"?" His voice drips repulsion with each quoted word. "No. I will not be caged again. I will not be tortured again. Ever." A pause. "Well, at least not by earthlings. I promise you that." Suddenly there is very shiny, strange-looking gun held to Scott's temple opposite the one with the phone. "Cease communications and surrender your communications device, human."
Scott exhales slowly as things process in his head. Eventually he lets the phone go down away from his ear just as the person on the other end picks up. "Westchester Health and Human Services, Mental Health department. This is Janice....Hello? /Hello?/." Scott's teeth clench as he stares at Noh-varr from behind his glasses. "You're making a big mistake," Scott says low enough to not be heard by the person on the other side of the phone.
Noh-varr keeps his eyes glued to the ruby-red glasses. "I've made several, but I don't think they're what you're thinking of. And I know what you're doing. That call has gone through and you're stalling for time. But since I can't afford to damage that phone and I don't actually want to remove your so-called brains from your skull, I am going to ask you again to terminate the connection. It's the last time I'll ask." The Kree takes a moment to let his eyes flicker left and right to make sure things here are still clear, and chews a bit on the fact that this man in front of him is remaining remarkably calm given the raygun at his head.
"Alright," Scott says, continuing to stare. His thumb touches the red button on the Stark-Phone and the connection is killed. "It wasn't the police. It was the mental health department. You seem like you could use some help...despite your aversion to cages. Human or otherwise."
Noh-varr's eye narrow as he assesses the offer and compares it with Scott's demeanor. No anxiety. No sketchiness. It feels honest. He feels honest. The hand with the gun drops, the gun vanishing... somewhere. "My apologies. I have reason to be skeptical of, uh, "mental health" in these parts." He sighs. "Let me do this again now that I have a clear head. My name is Noh-varr. I would like to make use of your phone. I will not damage it. In fact I believe that I will return it to you in far better shape than I take it." Unbeknownst to either mutant or Kree, when the microphone on the cell picked up Noh's threat to shoot Scott, the Pepper feature (Pepper, where's the closest liquor store!?) translated it and automatically forwarded the geosat location and recording on to authorities.
Scott hands it over to Noh-varr and shakes his head, "If you needed to borrow it, I would have given it to you in a heart beat." He eyes the young boy and licks his lips, "So what are you? Meta? Mutant?"
Noh-varr sighs again. He could have just asked. He needs to find Plex. No. First he needs to get his head on straight. It's been days since he's even meditated. Meditation vanishes from mind as the phone comes alive in his hand, joy in his heart. "This is so much better than the other one. I mean it's still crap. I don't know how you manage with these things. And the prices you pay! Do you know they limit your data!? How is that even legal!?" His fingers dance above the screen and characters, followed by glyphs mirror below as he begins to reprogram Tony Stark's software into something useable with the limited hardware. "What? No. What's meta? Mutant? That depends on what you mean. We're all mutants. That's how we evolve." The phone begins chirping happily as it starts brushing lips with all the shiny things in orbit above. "I'm Kree. Gene-boosted with optimum survival traits. Do you know what that means... do you have a name, human?"
"My name is Scott Summers," Scott begins, with a shake of his head. He can't help but let out a sigh-laugh. "But I have no idea what a Kree is. That's a new one." He watches his phone, realizing that this young Kree is not simply making a phone call. "I've got a good plan...Doesn't seem to limit my data any. Maybe I haven't reached my threshold. What are you doing with it?"
"Kree is a race of what you would refer to as aliens. In my dimension it lies on the far side of two galaxies from here. In yours, I do not know. I ran into what I think may have been a Kree last night, but I lost her. On the Watcher scale of conventional civilization rankings my Kree are a 9.6. Earthlings have yet to reach 1." Smug bastard. "First I am removing the artificially installed fetters on this device's capabilities. Your speed is still limited by the satellite and tower capacities, but it is increased by a factor of ten. You can now make untraceable calls. Also, the ads are gone." A souped-up version of Maps appears on the screen and then floats above it. "Holographic display. Not sure how long the capacitors will hold out, so use that feature sparingly. Actually, I don't even really need it, but it's cool." It zooms over America, New York, Westchester, Salem Center. "See that pulsing light? It indicates technology. Technology I need to locate my... friend. But it's too scattered. Not focused in enough. As if it's camouflaging." To one who knew, it might seem to center on the Xavier Academy. "That's a lot of ground to cover."
"An alien race?" Scott says quizzically. "If you hadn't pulled a gun from nowhere I might have trouble believing you." He looks at the data display Noh-varr brings up, but hides things behind his stone face. "Technology? Why are you searching for technology? And this is just country and farm land all around here. Are you sure that's working right?"
Noh grits his teeth and shakes his head. "I am sure of nothing with this, but I have no choice. I need to find the Marvel, my ship, and that I cannot do that without better technology than this, or anything else I've yet to come across. I need to find a way to boost broadcast and reception of my Omniwave." He realizes that must be meaningless. "Think of it as a Kree-inherent form of communication analogous to telepathic transmission. I know Plex is broadcasting if he can, I just can't pick him up. And vice versa." Noh-varr looks forlornly from the display to the surroundings, eyeballing things and then settling on a direction roughly in line with Xavier's before closing the phone and regretfully handing it back to Scott. "A deal is a deal, Scott Summers. Thank you." That didn't sound easy to say. "Twice in two days I have been assisted by humans. I will remember that."
"Well I might be able to help it become one more," Scott says as his head tilts towards the direction of New York City. "You're not far from New York and there is a man there, a man named Reed Richards, who houses the most technologically advanced equipment on this planet. If you're looking to boost something, that might be the best bet." Scott exhales, inwardly hoping his attempt at throwing this alien off the Xavier Institute scent is successful.
Noh-varr looks skeptical. "In the city? Tony Stark's building hemorrhages unshielded energy. I swear that guy is such an amateur scientist. But he doesn't have what I need. You're saying there is someone there with better resources?"
Scott nods, "Reed Richards. He heads a group known as the Fantastic Four. You might be able to contact him and if he doesn't have what you need, he might be able to make it for you. Or at least provide the materials for you to make it yourself. You should look him up."
Noh-varr shifts from one foot to another, mulling this over. That's when his cockroach-sense (okay, heightened "hearing" through his body) kicks in and goes still. "We're not alone." No. Thee black police SUVs pull up behind a ridge and begin disgorging a half dozen regular officers, a hostage negotiator and a SWAT team. The THWUPTHWUPTHWUP of a police helicopter begins to fade into general hearing. Noh looks around, not seeing much in the way of cover. "This is not good."
Scott looks down and lowers his voice. "If you sneak through the woods...you might be able to loose him." This is clearly all a misunderstanding. Well, perhaps they've been after the boy for a while. Either way, Scott reckons the best way to avoid an incidient and the loss of human (read: Police) life is to help Noh-varr get away. "If you go now," Scott says now his voice is a whisper, "I can try and stall them.
An angry look passes over Noh-varr's face. "Why!? Why do I have to be the one to run all the time!?" Bio-electric energy coalesces unconsciously around his tightened fists, crackling audibly. Frustration battles with common sense. "Why don't I just start showing them what and who they--" He struggles with the words.
The SWAT Team fans out to encircle them from high points, not realizing just how much better trained the two men standing in the center are. SKKKKRZZZZZTTTT! Bullhorn. "SORRY ABOUT THAT. JESUS, WHERE'S THE VOLUME ON THIS THing? Oh, much better. Hi! I'm Detective Mangia." He looks it. "I understand we've got us a little situation here. Everyone okay?"
"Situation?" Scott asks back, trying to give the illusion of calm. "I'm not sure what the problem is sure, the guy just asked to use my phone!" Scott does his best to look perplexed. Hands out and palms up, the whole bit. He turns back to Noh, talking in a whisper, "You have to run so that they can live."
Noh shakes his head disgustedly. "Right. So /they/ can live. So they can continue to be the jackboot to faceless authority and greed, so they can torture not only their victims but themselves without knowing it." He's scanning the crests and copses of trees, picking out the snipers. Little bits of what Scott said resonate with his practical mission. "We're completely surrounded and I have no camouflage. I can start running, but they'll start shooting. I can't vouch for what happens then. What will you do?"
Scott looks over and Noh-varr and shrugs his shoulders. "You and I both know they can't hold you. Just let them come up and see what they want. There's gotta be a peaceful solution available to us, don't you think." Scott looks back up at Mangia and yells, "I think there's some misunderstanding here, officer."
HALL--Hello! Detectie Mangia! I'm holding up my hands to show you no weapons. I'd like to come over and maybe we can have a little chat, talk this out. Yeah?" He gives a bobbing, inquisitive thumbs-up, smiling. The helicopter is circling overhead. Noh-varr squeezes his temples one-handedly and sighs. "Okay. Why not
Scott holds his hands where the cops can see them too, just in case, and begins making his way through the snow towards the law enforcement agents. Professor Xavier had once told him that you garner more bees with honey than with vineagar. It was, of course, something that Scott wasn't always the best at. And with his glasses and not his visor, there would be now way he could regulate his optic blast. He does not seem keen to see any loss of life today.
After a few moments, Noh-varr sucks in his breath and begins following, each foot falling seemingly naturally into the print of Scott before him. Unlike Scott, he knows that vinegar actually draws more flies than honey and also unlike Scott (sadly) the thought of somebody dying today doesn't sound like the worst thing. He runs tactical simulations in his head over and over again, involving energy blasts, explosive body parts, mind-control and thermonuclear melee combat. And then remembers that his enthusiastic co-conspirator is powerless and likely to be hurt or even killed. Keep to the plan then.
"Ah, great! Yeah, really! Are you Mr. Scott Summers then? Pleased to meet you! I'm Detective Mangia! Did I meantion that? Right. Well, here's the thing see. Ah," he takes a breath as Noh walks up. "And you must be our potential suspect! Great!"
"Yes, officer," Scott says, still feigning confusion. Or maybe it's real confusion. "I am Scott Summers. What's going on, here?" He looks back at Noh-varr and back at the Detective, "Potential suspect?"
Yeah! Your phone, sir... it picked up a threat to you and contacted us, even providing us a location! Isn't that fantastic? And it's free! Man, I wish I could afford one of those Starkphones on my salary!" Mangia's smile hasn't left his face. The most disturbing things about it is that it doesn't look fake or even drug-related. He looks and sounds this chipper.
Noh-vall breaks in, "Suspect? /I'll/ give you suspect! What is suspect is that you have shown up here with an army to take on two inhabit-- citizens. Citizens of your /fine/, fine country. What is suspect that you have accused me without knowing a thing. Why, how do you know I'm not Scott Summers?" He folds his arms and looks triumphantly at the detective.
Scott looks more and more confused by the situation, but attempts to bring some sense to the conversation, "Officer, this is obviously a mistake." He smiles a bit at the mention of the Stark phone. "They were given away at the Expo this summer. They were given out for free." He tilts his head, "Sir, this young man isn't a threat. He just lost his phone when we bumped into one another."
Noh-varr is nodding as well as smirking. "Really? Well gosh! That would be fantastic! I mean if it's true! Is it? True I mean?" He looks back and forth between the two young men, the first suspicious cop crack in his cheery facade. And then it's gone. "Right! Of course! Our mistake, clearly!" Noh-varr is the one to look confused now, glancing at Scott and then back and Mangia, who's turned around and is waving back to his fellow officers. "Boys! Boy- oh damn." Bullhorn. Click. "Boys! Yes, and you Sondra, I know! It's all over! False alarm! Stand down!" He looks around at where the snipers are. "STAND DOWN!"
Scott breathes a bit of a sigh of relief. From behind his shades he peers at the officer and finds himself not quite sure if he believes this guy. Definitely the strangest cop he's met, but he's prided himself on staying away from the law both as a citizen and as an X-man. "Yes sir, it was my fault, I accidentally bumped into him and knocked his phone in the snow and ...you know I've been trying to figure out this Starkphone and we probably did something that set off a false alarm or something. To be honest I'm not even sure what happened."
Mangia nods. "Happens all the time. You'd be surprised. All right, let's get going!" He waves to the snipers and starts heading back to the SUV. "You boys take care now!" Noh-varr shakes his head. "What. Was. That?"
"I have no clue," Scott says after he's good and sure that the cops are on their way. He looks down to Noh-varr, "I'm just happy they didn't try to cuff us. Especially after what you did to me." He exhales and chuckles a bit more. "Reed Richards. New York City. I think he could help you."
Noh watches the police leave. The SWAT guys give some defiant looks and one actually pulls his thumb across his throat like a knife while starting at them. "Charming. Reed Richards. NYC. Got it." He stares at his toe for a moment. "Thank you. And I'm sorry." And that's the last time Scott will ever hear those words from Noh-varr.
"No problem," Scott chuckles. "It was good to meet you. I didn't catch your name."
"Noh-varr. Don't worry. You'll be seeing me again soon enough." They all will. He turns and begins jogging, then sprinting, then breaking the highway speed limit. Then he's gone.
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