2014.01.03 - Planet Cores and Alien Gore

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‘’’X-Men Base - Medical Lab’’’
 
This room is fairly large and curved in shape, wrapping around the central transit column so the floor plan ends up being shaped like a half-torus. The floors are tiled in white marble, and the walls are a soft cream color. The equipment here is all the most advanced medical technology that the world has to offer, including advanced life sign monitors and biobeds actually capable of sustaining a patient and doing limited surgical tasks without human assistance. The computer here contains an advanced Artificial Intelligence medical program, which is capable of diagnosing any known ailment and prescribing a treatment. Basically, all of the most advanced tech from the top hospitals in the world has been condensed down to fit into one spacious and serviceable infirmary.
 
The only exit from this room is the doorway to the south, which is a large circle of silver metal embossed with a giant symbol resembling a letter X enclosed by a circle.
 
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It hasn't been long since the enemy fell. Long enough for Kwabena to get his gear and haul ass out of the shredded Financial District. He'd considered bolting himself up in his Brooklyn warehouse, but the injury to his shoulder changed his mind. And so, after a long and painful bike ride upstate, he finds himself walking through the lower levels of the X-Men base.
 
They're oddly quiet. It's nearly deafening.
 
The circular doors to the medical bay swing open. For a moment, the African simply stands there, leaning the weight of his body upon his gloved left hand, fingers braced against the doorway. While his X-Men uniform remains generally intact, its hood remains lazily drawn against his upper chest. The skin around his mouth and chin, which is usually exposed when the mask is worn, seems stained by dark and unworldly colors -- the dried gore and flesh of alien beings. His right shoulder, however, appears disfigured; as if half of it, flesh, bone, and muscle, is simply gone. Oddly enough, there's no blood, the flexible material of his uniform clinging to the disfigurement as if it was the normal shape of his body.
 
 
 
 
Hastily Lorna draws the curtain around Charles' bed shut. She must have been standing there watching over the psychic since the fight. She's in her uniform and looks largely unscathed but worn. Each little movement takes energy and loose metal around her rattles like she's using her pull to stay on her feet. "Kwa, you look...aweful. Here." Her eyes dart to his shoulder but not much she can do so she fills a bowl of warm water and grabs a clean rag for him to clean up with. "You need a doc." She grins wanely.
 
 
 
 
"Lorna?" Kwabena hadn't even realized she was there, not until she drew that curtain. With a quiet grunt, he pushes himself from the wall and walks into the room, his flexible boots falling a bit heavier than they usually do. "Damn," he retorts, "Here I thought I was having a good hair day."
 
Nice one, from the bald guy.
 
Finding an empty cot, he sits himself down and again rests his weight upon his left arm. "No kidding," he mutters, and eyes his damaged... well, a better term would be diminished shoulder warily. "God, I hate dat fucking weapon," he mutters under his breath. After a few moments of rest, he releases his weight and reaches for the rag with his left hand, smirking ruefully at Lorna. "Thanks."
 
He wipes some of the 'stuff' off his face, nose wrinkling as he does. "You're in uniform. You weren't in Metropolis, were you?" A flash of concern suddenly appears on his features when he notices the rattling of a few freshly loosened screws in a table nearby. He studies Lorna dubiously, the curtained off room going to another part of his mind for a moment.
 
 
 
 
"No, Artic. There was a device trying to rip the Earth's core out. Some ships were up there...The Prof. used his energy for the day on hitting Darkseid, he just needs rest." Lorna says sitting on the edge of the bed. The metal groaning like she weights a lot. "Rough day." She jokes with a weak smile watching him. "Wait, here." She reaches for the rag to help wipe the gore away.
 
 
 
 
"I'd heard dere was trouble up north," answers Kwabena. His mis-matched eyes roam over toward that curtained room, and the concern grows in the form of a thinly etched frown before he looks back Lorna's way. "He going to be alright?"
 
When the cot groans, he glances at its edges doubtfully before steeling himself again. A protesting look comes over him when she offers to clean him off, but with a sigh through the nose he obliges. "Alien guts," he warns her. "Dey blew up my damn grenades." Knowing that some sort of explanation is in order, his eyes dart over toward his shoulder. "So I shot my shoulder at dere ship."
 
Finally, there's a telltale flash of mirth, the curling of his lips into a rueful grin, a sign that 'Shift' is pretty much intact after all.
 
 
 
 
Nodding Lorna soothes his concerns. "He just needs to rest. I figure it's no small thing what he did." She looks down at the bed creaking under her weight and frowns making the noise stop. "Sorry, had to stop the core from being ripped out and pushed it back. I guess I'm a little fried too. Stupid baddies and their destroy the planet fixation." Despite the metal bearing her weight like she's putting a lot of pressure on it, her touch cleaning the gore off is soft.
 
 
 
 
Being no doctor, Kwabena knows its useless to worry. Lorna's words draw a different look of surprise. "Wait, you mean... de core? Of de Earth? De planet's core?" For a moment, he just stares at Lorna, unblinking. "You pushed it back in?" His natural tendency to snark draws a squint to his eye, but he behaves and avoids saying anything about the joke he might have made under different circumstances. "Might want to put dat junk undah quarantine," he suggests, regarding the gore stained cloth.
 
 
 
 
"I was going to torch it. There's no washing that out...what ever it is. But yeah. I didn't see anyone else who could do it, and I mean, the core needs to be in it's place, it's a little important to physics or something." Lorna tries to play it down, she might be strong, but she still isn't Magneto. "So you shot your shoulder at them? Jean won't be pleased. We should get someone else down here to spare you the scolding."
 
 
 
 
Now the snark comes back. "Yeah, it only maintains our gravitational field. Keeps us from being fried by solah wind. Nothing major." For a few moments he just stares at Lorna, steadily realizing that she pretty much saved the planet, and here she is wiping scorched alien ogre from his face.
 
"Oh." Lorna's question brings him back to Earth. "Well, it's... not that it wasn't warranted. She'd probably be pissed to know I still have that gun Magneto built. It... fires... pieces of me. Long story, but let's just say it goes to eleven, and I took it dere."
 
 
 
 
"Magneto built that?" Lorna's eyes flash and the metal creaks reflecting her temper. "I can't believe he'd go that far. He treats you like ammo Kwa!" Clearly it's their super good friendship that has Lorna upset over Magneto's use of him. "Well, I am going to talk to him and let him know that his days of chucking you around are over." She wrings the rag out firmly.
The creaking of metal draws something of a defensive expression. Kwabena quickly recognizes it as a carnal fear, something he'd experienced during his time in Magneto's camp, and it's quickly cast away in favor of an apologetic look.
 
"Easy," urges the African. "You just put de core back in it's place. No telling what you might do with dat much genetic adrenaline going."
 
Now, Kwabena can't disagree at all with Lorna's viewpoint on this matter. Oddly enough, it hadn't crossed his mind. Not until she puts it that way. Whatever thoughts might have been churning the furrowed brow into it's place, it soon disappears. "You... might want to let dis one go," he says quietly. "Your fathah and I... we aren't exactly friends."
 
 
 
 
"Well I'm not going to let him bully my team mates. He has to learn some boundaries and I'm not afraid to tell him what's what." Lorna stands to rinse out the bowl and get fresh water. "I'm sorry about the metal. I think I need to umm, recover or something. I've never done something so big. I thought we were gonna right out die." She sets the bowl back down carefully with a fresh rag.
 
 
 
 
With a thin frown, Kwabena lets it drop. It wasn't his place to give unsolicited advice, and he's got reason to believe that Lorna's not going to catch hell for coming to his defense.
 
Instead, he pushes himself up from the cot, quietly grimacing through the pain. "Not yet. You've pushed yourself fahtah dan you evah have. If I might make a suggestion... don't let it own you. Ride it out, rest when you want to rest." He smirks a little, scolding himself for giving such unsolicited advice. "Might learn some few things about where your limits really lie."
 
Such as how Shift is no longer showing signs of pain, even though his shoulder still hurts like hell.
 
 
 
 
Bobby Drake enters from: Secret Entry.
Bobby Drake has arrived.
 
 
 
 
"I feel very fizzy and wiped. It took a little to get back on my feet again after all that. I wonder if good old pops would have had an easier time of it. There's so much iron and metal down there. It's beautiful." Lorna sighs wistfully and looks at Shift's shoulder closely. "Will your shoulder ummm, grow back?" She asks standing back up slowly to look for bandaging.
 
 
 
 
With a rueful smirk, Kwabena says, "I'm sure he'd find it fascinating." Is that a hint that at one time, Shift and Magneto had a reasonable, if not rocky friendship?
 
When attention is drawn back to his shoulder, however, that smirk goes away. He reaches up to the X part of his uniform near that shoulder, slips his finger into the stretchy fabric, and separates it. It almost seems reluctant to peel away from his damaged shoulder, but when it comes loose, the skin beneath appears undamaged. Rather, it almost seems deformed, as if a large chunk of flesh and bone was just ripped away. The skin looks raw and young, but it is in fact skin.
 
"It can," he answers. "If I go outside, manage to turn to plasma without atomizing, and chew through some trees or squirrels. A good fully grown buck might do it." There's that rueful smirk again. "Not my first choice."
 
 
 
 
The infirmary is empty but for three people. Charles is unconscious in a bed, tucked in and hidden behind a drawn curtain. Lorna is suited up and looks unharmed, just really tired. The loose metal in the room trembles and once she finds some first aid stuff and sits on the edge of Shift's bed the metal groans like she weights a lot. "Here, there's aspirin cream, and Neosporin, and ace wraps, and gauze pads. Oh, and one ice pack." Lorna grins setting them out since first aid isn't her forte. "No plasma. You said it was dangerous."
 
 
 
 
"Someone say ice pack?"
 
And cue one Bobby Drake. Still in ice form and his own X-uniform, the Iceman may be smiling but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He'd been on a little mission of his own and didn't hear about this until he got back. Once things were sorted out, he rushed down to the infirmary to check on everyone. "Why go plasma, we've got heating pads and I'm sure there's some Icy Hot down here...and I don't just mean me this time," he says, looking over both Shift and Lorna with a silent 'what happened?' expression.
 
 
 
 
"Thanks," says Kwabena to Lorna, before popping the aspirin and eyeing the wraps dubiously. "Don't suppose you have any whiskey?"
 
Feeling a chill in the air, Kwabena turns to look at the door. A good honest smile comes to him at Bobby's entrance. "Hey Ice." When asked what happened though, he casts a look Lorna's way. She was at the epicenter, after all.
 
 
 
 
"Hey Bobby." Poor Shift's question gets ignored in favor of smiling at the Iceman. "Oh, ummm this guy Darkseid tried to kill Superman and he had these aliens trying to rip out the Earth's core so Kwa, the Professor and maybe a few others rolled out to stop them and put the core back in place." Team effort guys! She pauses and looks at his icy-ness. "What have you been up to?"
 
 
 
 
"Put the core back...how does that even...I don't even want to know," Bobby sighs, shaking his head. He doesn't need a science headache right now. "Sorry, no pockets," he remarks to Shift's whiskey question. It's not entirely true since his belt does have two little hidden emergency pockets but they're not enough to carry bottles of booze. "So how bad's the damage?" he asks, inspecting both of his fellow mutants for damages. Lorna's question gets a little wave of an icy hand. "Some of the kids got into trouble and yours truly had to go bail them out. No biggie."
 
 
 
 
Shift gets to work on wrapping up his bloodless, deformed shoulder injury, listening as he works. "Big, alien spaceship on Wall Street. Thousands of dose ugly bastards swarming de streets. Dere weapons..."
 
It leads to a dark chain of thoughts, ending with something he'd witnessed a week ago, in a small Kansas town. A baleful expression forms on his face and he looks between the two.
 
"I think I saw him murdah Superman's fathah."
 
 
 
 
"Wow, no wonder Superman wasn't pulling punches. Talk about scary. I was so beat when the fight got up to the north I couldn't even stand to run." Lorna shakes her head and Shift's bed creaks again. "So the kids got into hot water huh? I could have used a Bobby-bail out the other day. Doug changed everything in my danger room simulation to wood." Lorna grins a little and watches Kwa do his first aid thing.
 
 
 
 
Bobby frowns at Shift's shoulder, moving to bat his hands away to try to take over wrapping for him. "At least you wrecked their asses," Bobby mutters. He tenses for just a moment at the mention of Superman's father being killed but it passes. He nods to Lorna. "Yeah, some goons with guns trying to take 'em. Nothing that a good cold front didn't handle," he says. Lorna's comment gets a smirk. "Well, sorry I couldn't bail you out but I can get some payback. One cheek chiller comin' up?"
 
 
 
 
A slow nod of Shift's head is given to Lorna. "Darkseid," he mutters. "Where do dese crazy assholes get dere names?"
 
Kwabena doesn't keep Bobby from helping. In fact, the help is welcomed. "You got some of dat icy hot?" he asks drily. "Shot my shoulder at dat spaceship," he explains, for Bobby's benefit. "But Polaris here literally put de planet' core back in its place." A lighthearted grin is attempted. "You should see what she can bench."
 
 
 
 
"Well, he did say that you were a walking talk ice pack." Or something like that. Lorna shakes her head lightly. "I feel some well meaning chill is in order. Not that I would have minded." She shrugs a little. "Yeah, Darkseid tried to use a super magnet ship to rip out the Earth's core. Which is kinda silly." No big deal at all from the girl who is tired just standing up. "But the Professor actually brain blasted the guy, like practically put the nails on his coffin."
 
 
 
 
"Oh he said that, did he? Then he is definitely getting the cheek chiller. Let's see how many languages Dougy can say 'shrinkage' in," Bobby replies, tone more good natured despite the mock-annoyed expression. "Probably the same place we get our codenames, Shift," Bobby teases as he carefully wraps up his friend's shoulder. He's going to make sure Jean takes a look at that even if he has to help hold down Shift to make it happen. Lorna gets an impressed look from Bobby before he smirks. "Oh, I know. She's hot, smart, and strong," he says, winking Lorna's way. The mention of the Professor gets Bobby looking back towards his bed, concern clear on his features. There's a mental note made to visit a little more later before he turns his attention back to Shift. Once the bandages are finished, Bobby heads over to the cabinet all the simple medicines and supplies are kept in to get the requested tube.
 
 
 
 
That remark earns an unexpected bout of laughter from Kwabeba, the kind of laughter that comes after someone has just been through hell and is finally letting that tension loose. "You know, I originally had dis stupid idea to go by 'De Shiftah'?" He snorts. "Laughing stock of de Metahuman Vigilante Society."
 
He catches that look Bobby gives to the curtains that hide a sleeping Xavier. A knowing look is then sent Lorna's way. Of all of them, Bobby may know the Professor best.
 
 
 
 
"What ever. It's not like it was easy or anything. The Professor was amazing. He should be up tonight or tomorrow. He sent a thought my way so I'd know where to find him." The Professor is clearly more important then the Earth. "He's alright Bobby. Just worn out. I think it was a tough one on all of us, I mean Shift used his shoulder as ammo. Which I hope someone shakes some sense into you about." Lorna tells Shift shaking her head. "So once I can move without using the room to help maybe I could take up those ice skating lessons."
 
 
 
 
Bobby hands the icy-hot over to Shift with a smirk. "The Shifter? Seriously? Dude..." he laughs. He does know the Professor better than the other two, having been one of the original X-men recruited. He nods to Lorna though. "Well, lessons resume in the New Year but the both of you better rest up and not try to sneak out before you should," he says, glancing around. "And now that I'm sure I'm not being listened to, I'll sneak you down some treats. And no booze if you keep using parts of yourself as ammo," he says, poking Shift's unhurt shoulder.
You last paged Lunair.
 
 
 
 
Lorna's admonishment is greeted with a loathsome look. "I ran out of oddah ammo. It wasn't my first choice."
 
Then he turns to Bobby, accepting the icy-hot with a look of thanks. "Hey man," he retorts, "I didn't know too many mutants with clever nicknames back den. Psylocke, Domino. 'Gas Man' would have been worse."
 
After rubbing some icy-hot under the bandage, Kwabena stretches the uniform back over his injury. "I'd bettah find Rachel. Let her know I'm still in one piece. Even dough she probably knows already." He looks between both. "And yeah. I'll rest up. But no promises on de ammo thing. Every bad guy needs a little Shift in dere face."
 
 
 
 
"Not literally. Augh." Lorna rubs her face grinning at Shift. "Oh, I'm not a med bay patient. Just keeping eyes on the Prof. and Shift here. You should have seen the alien gore on Kwa's face." Lorna makes her best I'm good face. "But if you want to cater treats Bobby, Kwa and I would be silly to say no." She teases reaching over to poke at Bobby.
 
 
 
 
"Worse and taken," Bobby remarks to Shift. "Especially since you do more than just go gassy," he teases with another poke. "Leave finding Rachel to me. I'll send her down," he says. He then laughs and pokes Shift again. "Who knew you were so easy, Shift. Shoulda let me know earlier," he says. He then gives Lorna a look. "You just said you needed the rest. Bed's right there and you can keep an eye on the Professor better," he says. The poke gets him waggling his eyebrows comically. "Maybe if you ask nice I'll even join ya."
 
 
 
 
"It was my first attempt at stage makeup," answers Shift. "Alien guts goes great with my eyes."
 
And then Shift just rolls his eyes. "And I even lost my earplugs on Wall Street. Keep it down, you guys. Dis is a med bay, not a maternity ward." And with that he's off to find a private room like the Proffessors, though not without a final "Thanks," to Bobby.
 
 
 
 
"Not a what?" Lorna asks looking at Shift moving so he can get up. "You can stay on Professor watch if you want Bobby. I'm not about to turn my nose at the company...flying home sounds aweful anyway." She perches back on the corner of the bed Shift had used making the metal strain again. "I really gotta get a hold of myself."
 
 
 
 
"Aw, you don't have to leave. We can make it a party of three, Kwa," Bobby says, batting eyelashes his friend's way. Stretching, Bobby looks around. "I'm going to go get changed and snag those treats. I'll be right back though," he offers, heading towards the door.
Category:Log