2014.03.24 - Cripples, Bastards, and Reality-Displaced Things

The stranger calling himself K'el has been on Earth long enough to have now calmed down from the initial shock of his arrival. He's still a bit confused and troubled, but he's no longer disoriented or in that first flush of panic. Seeking out familiar-seeming places, he found the iconic globe atop the Daily Planet building. During the night, K'el climbed inside the spherical structure, and he has been huddled inside ever since, currently resting his head on his knees and racking his brains, trying to corral his memories into something that makes sense.
Cable was in the middle of business planetside when Professor beeped into his ear about a temporal anamoly. Precise coordinates were not available, and by the time he took to the skies and attempted to locate the disturbance, K'el was already long gone. He immediately Bodyslid back to the massive station, setting the celestial intelligence to scan and seek the surroundings; temporal hijinx are the craft's speciality after all, even if he can't use it to jump around in the timestream anymore himself.
K'el moves around an awful lot, for an awful long time. Only seeing a trail of where he was, but never where he is, it's not until he camps atop the Daily Planet that the computer slowly, carefully verifies the position. Cable wants to be as close as possible. If this person is a threat from another timestream, a temporal villain, or worse another from Apocalypse's timeline, he needs to verify it. Above all else, he is still a policeman for keeping the Alpha somewhat sane.
"Bodyslide by one." A moment later, in a blue whisk, Cable is within the globe as well; floating in a sheath of telekinetic energy, glancing down at K'el. "...Hey." he offers, almost conversationally. Even if he looks rather horrific; that dark grey trenchcoat, glowing orange left eye, the metal visible peeking from his left sleeve. The giant man is nothing, if not imposing. "Here to help." Or hurt, depending. "Time police." That 'S' is not lost on him...
K'el jumps a bit at Cable's sudden appearance, floating into the air and halfway raising his hands as if mustering a defense, but at the casual-sounding greeting and subsequent identification, K'el sinks back down to stand on the bottom of the globe, leaning back against the curving metal of the side. He looks searchingly at Cable, then gives a slow nod. "Time... police," he echoes in a faint murmur. "You can help? Do you... know why things are so... confusing?"
Yeah. It's not entirely untrue, really. Not a lot of people can do this sort of job; Booster supposedly can. Interesting person. Need to meet him some day. "No." he admits, slowly approaching before landing heavily in front of K'el. His motions are measured, non-threatening, like what one might do if they wished to avoid spooking a horse. "But I can help you find out." He extends his organic hand to be taken. "It'll feel strange. ...I'll be analyzing your timestream." Yeah, telepathy can be called that. "Don't resist it or get scared, okay?"
K'el nods slowly, but he apparently finds the idea of a time cop trustworthy because he does hesitantly extend one hand, clasping Cable's lightly, as if afraid of squeezing too hard and hurting him. "Will... it hurt?" he asks, still uncertain, but offers no resistance. He closes his eyes, frowning a bit, and tries to open up himself to whatever sort of scanning Cable has in mind.
"Not if you relax." Cable assures. And then his orange eye flares. The hand's not needed. It just makes people more comfortable. Makes them think less of some unseen force doing the job, that his body is a conduit. He'd begin probing into K'el's mind. Deep. Spreading tendrils in all directions, like a bolt of lightning. He's amongst the better trained telepaths around, and amongst the attempt would be a deeply instilled sense of peacefulness and safety. The intent being to figure out who exactly this person is, and how they got here... assuming they even know. But with an imprint of K'el's mind thrumming within his own, it should hopefully offer a few clues.
K'el is able to relax, largely because he's not sure what else to do. But he does seem to want to trust Cable, allowing the scan without any flinching. Images do flutter readily up in his mind, concrete concepts and abstracted ideas. Some are obvious: The Daily Planet, a small farm somewhere, the S-shield. Some are a bit murkier: heroism, the importance of ideals--but they're fragmented, disassociated. All in all, his thoughts are a mess of half-recalled ghost memories.
What's more, they're obviously false. Judging by the structure of his mind, K'el can't be more than a day or two old.
Cable focuses. Flashes of memories. Shadows. Ghosts. He knows this. It's like what he suffers from... but not quite. It's not cohesive. And it's not latent. K'el didn't get tangled up in timestreams, not the same way the elder Nathan did, but it's clear he's from a different one. Is it alive? Is it dead? Was he banished here? If so, does that mean he's dangerous? But there's that purity. That new mind, but within a fully formed body. "Professor, any ideas?" << There are too many variables present to come to any conclusions, based upon what is present in his own mind. Possible options: Timestreams crossed, causing physical manifestation clone splinter that is a brand new mind but has echoes of the original. Original timestream destroyed, and he was sent here through less refined methods, causing a new body instead of the original. Banishment or erasure from a timestream, done purposefully to leave his mind a blank slate. The result of a split timestream where-->> "Okay, enough. That's not helping." He lets go of K'el, scratching his chin. Unsure. "What's that symbol stand for?" A finger points to the 'S' on K'el's chest. "And what's your name?" His telepathy remains active, trying to capture any snapshots or flickers of memory to see if that leads to better clues.
K'el reaches up to press his free hand to the S-shield on his chest, and then he draws a slow breath, brow furrowing with effort. "It--it means, maybe, truth? Maybe hope... or justice." He lifts that hand to rub furiously at his forehead, and Cable will easily sense the turmoil and confusion in his mind as different half-recalled realities attempt to resolve within his memories. "It's important. It means GOOD--and RIGHT," he says with more certainty. Then, releasing a slow sigh, he says, "My name... I think it's K'el. I'm..." he drops his hand to the shield again.
"I think... I'm... Superman."
Cable watches calmly. Without judging. Hands are within his pockets once more, getting a better sense of what he thought. This being is somehow related to Superman. How, he cannot say. But he has seen no wisp of him being evil. No sense of him being a villain. No thread of him being banished. That's good. "K'el. I'm Cable. Nice to meet you." A few more moments pass. This is a dangerous situation. Cable knows for sure he is not the real Superman. But you can't just say that to someone's face. Then you end up with a Joseph-headache, and nobody wants another one of those. 
"This is a new timeline for you." Cable begins. "A new world. But that doesn't have to be bad. It can also be a new beginning. I know this, myself. ...I came from a world that was lost. Destroyed, by evil. I came here, in the past, to try to stop it." He leaves out the fact he's a timeline alien that kind of erased the real version. He's pretty sure most people wouldn't react positively. "But it's not the same world anymore. The future I saw may never happen. What do you do, then? When you arrive somewhere new, and there's no home to return to? ...You make a new one."
Looking down at his hands, K'el seems both confused and somehow, at the saem time, to be clinging to Cable's explanation. "So, I'm... not in my own world anymore?" he asks, seeming a bit dazed by the revelation. "Is that why my memory is so messed up?" He flexes his fingers slowly, then reaches up to lightly rub his temples. "My home... could be gone? Completely gone?" He lifts his head, looking at Cable, and nods slowly. "New beginning... new home. Is that what I need to do?"
"This isn't your world, no." Cable confirms, still relaxed with hands inside his pockets. "And yes. That is why your memories are messed up. They might come back in time. But they might not. I can't promise anything." Charles might be able to do a full audit and figure out all the shadows, but that is an extremist action that might, ultimately, not solve any of the issues. "Yes. Your home might be gone. If it's not, and I find out where you came from, I can send you back." 
The latter is true, the hint of promise and hope evident in his gruff tone. "Until then... welcome to Earth. But the name Superman's taken here. Even if he's sulking off somewhere for awhile. You missed out on some insanity regarding a guy called Darkface, or something. I didn't follow the papers about it too closely. Not my area to deal with." Threats that come from space, that's what your JLA or Fantastic Four are for. Threats to time, or threats to society and humanity's future, that's where Cable steps in. "But that doesn't mean you can't emulate him. There's no better role model than Superman. And there's no reason you can't do good, if you feel like that's what you want to do. ...Still. You'll need a new name. At least, temporarily." 
Cable's hungry. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hoagie. The greasy white paper only has the word 'Prime' visible, red on black. Like the 'S'. Boasting about 'Prime Steak!' if you saw the whole thing, of course. Cheap place, but it's affordable. Munch, munch.
K'el nods along with this, looking thoughtful and troubled yet, still, hopeful. "I see. This makes... sense... then." He rubs his chin, seeming a bit less distressed, and falls into a thoughtful silence for a moment. The remarks about Superman draw nods from him, and he seems to withdraw farther into his reverie for a time. He looks up again when he notices Cable start munching the sandwich, and K'el straightens, pulling away from the wall to stand straight. Staring down at the paper, he reads it aloud, softly, "'Prime.' That... yes. That was... important. Maybe that was home." He points down at the greasy wrapper with a firm nod and says, "That. That's what I'll call myself, then, instead of Superman. I will be... PRIME."
It's never easy to take. Finding out you are in a world where your identity is taken. But K'el is a strong boy. He took it better than some people, who's magnetic delusions will not be overtly brought up. The sudden movement starts Cable, mouth in the midst of a chomp, lettuce and a piece of beef sticking out. "Mrrph?" He swallows, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "What... Prime? You're gonna name yourself after my hoagie?" The sandwich is eyeballed dubious. At least it wasn't the word 'Steak!' that was shown. But it becomes apparent that it was an inadvertant trigger. Life can be funny, sometimes. "Sure. Prime's good. I mean, it could also be an old mathematician villain who went mad and only tries to kill people with riddles involving prime numbers. Or there could be some 'super-being' who's called himself Prime, shaking his genetically perfect fists at the heavens. But nah. No heroes got it. You should be good." After a few moments, "I'd like to check some things. You mind coming with me? To my super-tech space station?" It sounds cool. To be fair, it is.
Nodding, the newly named Prime says, "It means... first. Most important. The first and most important thing about me is where I come from, and that word--when I saw it--it made me think of my home, even if I can't really remember it. Also, it can mean starting something--and I'm starting something new." He smiles, a bit weakly, but nods. "I think it fits. And it's better than arguing over who's the real Superman... especially if this isn't my world." Standing just a little taller with shoulders a bit more square, he nods again. "I will go with you."
"I wouldn't argue with him when he's in a bad mood." Cable offers matter of factly. The reasoning behind it all makes sense enough to him. Honestly, it has a good ring. Villain, Hero, not bad. It's hard to find any that aren't taken. Last he read in the papers, the Gotham family had gotten so short on them someone's Cardinal now. If you don't know what a Cardinal is, then... well, again, not his issue. "This will be slightly disorienting. Bodyslide by two."
In a flash, Prime would find himself standing in a giant open area within space; it was not a comfortable experience at all, but neither is it something that would enduce nausea. Temporal displacement teleportation. A bit more rough on the body than just transporting matter; this transports the actual person through fancy time hijinx. All around in 360 degrees are huge windows showing the beauty and splendor of space. The moon. The earth in the distance. It's all a deep grey of steel, with lights hanging above. Maybe 100 meters circle, or close, at least.
"Professor. Testing room." A moment later, walls erupt all around into the ceiling, and things can be felt shifting. A number of interesting looking machines are upon the walls now, intended to test a variety of physical and mental traits. First thing he does is something simple. "Here." He picks up a completely mundane red ball, and tosses it to Prime. "Catch it. Then squeeze it. It makes a cool noise." It's closest to a 'SCHWAZOO!', if done properly. If done improperly, it would explode, which means Prime has no fine control over his power. And that's a Problem.
Prime weathers the transit well, though he doesn't look like he enjoyed it much. Still, when they arrive, he looks around, duly impressed, and says, "Your base is... impressive." He's just starting to take it all in when things flip all around, and suddenly they're in a whole new setting to absorb. And then he's being tested.
Catching the ball, Prime gives it a slow, deliberate squeeze, managing the requisite approximate SCHWAZOO! noise. This prompts a raised eyebrow, and he says, "Is this some kind of clown toy? It reminds me of... a carnival. Or... maybe it was a county fair." He frowns a little, shaking his head, and offers the ball back to Cable.
"Good." He takes the ball back. The next one is black. It's tossed over with a grunt, somewhat heavy. "Squeeze that one as hard as you can. It won't make a noise, though. Sorry. Pretend you are battling some ancient villain, and the life of the world depends on your ability to twist off the Eternity Jar's cap."
Prime catches the second ball easily enough, and--eyeing Cable uncertainly--he wraps both hands around the second ball and begins to squeeze, good and hard. His compression strength quickly reaches the hundreds of tons, even in the somewhat awkward position of squeezing a little rubbery ball. Grunting a bit with mounting effort, he asks, "How long do I need to keep trying to crush this thing?"
A readout appears within Cable's cybernetic eye, glowing lightly red for a few moments. Current crushing weight: 281.7 tons. After a number of mathematical equations derived from the experiment, a new number comes up: Peak strength likely around 489.7 tons. Huh. That's strong. Not SUPERMAN strong, but amongst the best in the world. "You can stop." He holds out his hand for it to get handed back, before motioning to a strange booth. There's two gray footprints inside it, and a number of panels on the wall. "Consider this like a physical. Good to know where you stand in a new world. Just get comfortable where the prints tell you to stand. ...And try the best you can. The more accurate this is, the better I can advise you."
Nodding, Prime drops the ball and then steps over to the booth, positioning his feet on the indicated markings. Once he stands within the chamber, Prime looks around uncertainly and asks, "What am I doing in this one? I mean, you said to try my best, but I don't know what the instructions really are."
"Red spots will appear on the wall. Smack them as fast as you can before they vanish. It's a test of reaction and speed. One of the more fun ones. You ready?" Once indicated, the machine would start. At first, a normal human could do it easily. Boring. But then it kicks up a notch. Two times normal human speed. Five times. Ten times. Twenty times. Nothing that Prime can't easily keep up with. Thirty times might require some concentration. Then, the lasers are popping up so fast, only someone with about forty times human reaction could keep up. He keeps it there, watching to see how many are missed, before finally kicking it up to fifty times. Another ten seconds. Sixty. Seventy-five. And finally, a hundred. His eyes would then print out the results.
Nodding, Prime lifts his hand to answer this challenge. Even when the lasers hit forty times human normal speed, Prime manages to strike them with unerring accuracy, though he's begun to have to put real effort in by that point. When it hits fifty, he's visibly pushing himself a bit to keep up. The odds are he could go faster, but based on his body's energy output and vitals, doing so would be pressing his limits. He manages sixty briefly, but as the speed continues, he simply stops, lowering his hands. "Going any faster would... hurt, I think." As the test clicks off, it will note clearly that he peaked around fifty times human normal.
Interesting. That's around the fastest Cable can go, if he truly stresses his body. And he can do that without risking killing himself. On top of it, he's a full notch above on the brute-force meter. Definitely Kryptonian, and one of high blood. "Second to last test." A motion to a black armored panel. Foot marks as before. "Just stand still there, back towards the wall." Then after a few beeps, a gigantic turret whirls and drops from the ceiling. Cyclonic fusion reactors begin to spiral madly, coalescing into a point of blinding blue light. "Just tell me when it hurts. ...It's unpleasant, but important." Cable's not really the most considerate of trainer. Assuming Prime doesn't move, he activates it. But the initial beam would only burn the skin of a mundane human. Crank. Peak human. Crank. Brick would burn. Crank. Steel would melt. The machine is whirring faster and faster, beam thickening as it does it's magic. Still not enough to be more than a harmless light to Prime, though. Crank. Titanium would begin burning and melting at this point. Definitely mild discomfort. Crank. The hardest substance on earth, Diamond, would crack and sizzle now. The machine is hissing out jets of plasma-steam, shuddering and shaking violently as the lights dim within all of Graymalkin. Painful, but only enough to redden Prime's skin in mild irritation. "...You doing okay?"
Prime complies again, finding the routine of this oddly reassuring--and besides, he's interested to hear Cable's results. He stands in place where indicated, holding his arms tight at his sides. He takes the beam without flinching at first, and as the intensity of the plasma bombardment increases, his jaw only clenches, his hands curling into fists at his side. He does not flinch, though as the test kicks up into its higher levels his expression--pinched, if not flinching--obviously reveals his discomfort. When Cable asks, he responds tightly, "Starting to hurt." Though the steam hissing from his reddening skin certainly hints at the limits of his invulnerability being tested.
"Let's try one notch higher." It better confirm things, because that's the maximum that Graymalkin can generate. It's not made for war, and this entire turret is just an ad-hoc taking advantage of the incredible fusion core that powers it. Suddenly there's an intense blast, that would probably burn away that 'S' and start scorching Prime's skin. Not fast or anything, but it would hurt like hell. The turret is whining loudly, sound of the spinning cores deafening, before it finally shuts down. Everything goes black in the room. "Oops." After a few seconds, Graymalkin goes through a reboot process, and with a flicker lights return. The turret retreats back up into the ceiling.
Miraculously, the suit isn't damaged badly--though it did begin to smoke for a moment there--thanks to the "invulnerability" Prime enjoys manifesting as a super-tightly conforming personal forcefield. This level of intensity finally leads Prime to release a cry of real pain, his expression twisting into a visible grimace. "That's--enough!" he's groaning out, just when Cable shuts the thing down. The sudden relief is so much that he staggers, putting out a hand to catch himself against the wall. Stepping out, he winces at the irritation it caused his skin and says, "I... really hope that was useful. It HURT." But some fragment has fluttered prominently to the fore in his mind: pain never stops Superman.
It's good that Prime thinks Cable shut it down on purpose, instead of triggered the first phase fusion overheat systems causing an emergency lockout of all energy until levels stabilized again. It makes him seem less thorough. "Not bad. Okay. So. You're not as strong as our Superman. You're not as fast. And you're not as durable." Probably not anything that the youth wants to hear. "Of course, you're young. Another ten years, you could get there. Who knows if you are even at peak sun radiation. Now, for the final test. Arena."
There's a whirr and snicker-snack. Everything recedes, before Prime is lifted up on a meter-high circle. About a hundred feet total. The walls, floor and ceiling shimmer with a field that would absorb any kinetic impact, to prevent someone from being punched out into space or destroying the facility. Although Prime's hardest blows would stress the hell out of it and eventually cause a shutdown. Good to know. He can't hold him prisoner if he throws a temper tantrum.
"There's one thing Superman never learned properly. How to fight. He leans on his gifts. Uses his raw talent. Only inadvertant experience. I think it's because he doesn't WANT to learn how to hurt people. That's the opposite of what he wants. Mastering something made to break and kill... that goes against his code." After a moment, "That code is foolish. That's not how this world works. Look at what Darkface can do. He's got the same level of power, but he knows how to use it. And it takes a bunch of capes at once, Superman included, to bring him down."
Slowly, Cable focuses. The air seems to shimmer and grow thick as the elder Nathan exhales, Askani meditation technique focusing his mind. Slowly he begins to shine in bright blue, lifting off the ground. Muscles bulge, and when eyes open, his cybernetic one is wildly flaring orange. Cracks and arcs of telekinetic energy are roaring over him. He looks absolutely imposing in this state, frame already thoroughly intimidating.
"Come at me. Show me if you can fight." And fast. He can already feel the TO Virus stirring, as he dropped all suppression to go all-out. That's the only way to do the final test...!
Prime raises his hands, and already he's given away much of what Cable wanted to know. His form is sloppily loose, all intent and zero discipline. When he advances, his speed is great, and when he swings his fist, he might even be able to punch a missile from the air--but once you push past the raw speed, raw power, he's still just an athletic young man, not yet quite in his physical prime, throwing a plainly amateurish punch. He hasn't even begun to approach throwing his full strength behind it, clearly aware of the danger that can pose.
Amped up as Cable is, he'd have to WANT that blow to hit for it to have a prayer of landing.
Right now, things are not looking particularly good for Prime. He's rushing towards a man currently on his level of speed, only with a lifetime of battle, exceptional reaction time for someone moving at the same speed, and having interwoven countless martial arts into the Askani style for nothing but ruthless function. His glaring yellow eye pretty much confirms everything. He could just stop the test now. He's already got the information he needs. ...But then it wouldn't be a lesson.
Cable does not hold back. He weaves down, striking out with his fist at the exact same moment that Prime's punch is thrown, when all his attention is on trying to connect. A bodyblow, hammering with hundreds of tons of force right into the stomach. It would hurt; hurt as much as any normal being being struck that hard. And for an amateur, the instinctual response to that sort of thing is 'double over'.
Flowing in an almost beautiful manner, Cable assaults relentlessly. Shifting up his knee violently. Using expert feints, then striking from the literal opposite directions that untrained instincts would expect. Blows towards the throat. He'd try to turn every attack against him into an attack recieved, knowing that is when K'el is most open.
Still, in a raw attrition war, Prime isn't hopeless. Already metal is creeping up his check, breath a bit heavy. But he'd try to end things in a swish, to catch Prime by the shoulder, twist around, and slam him face-first into the cushioning impact of the kinetic dampener on the battlefield's floor. So he can yank, hard enough to threaten not only dislocating, but outright breaking.
Prime steps right into Cable's bodyblow, and his mouth snaps open in surprise as the wind is knocked out of him, accompanied by an inelegant grunt. He staggers, indeed doubling over and even clutching at his abdomen with his off hand. This prompts an angry flail of his right arm, which Cable is able to neatly turn and deflect. His speed and toughness are sufficient--and, apparently, some instinct present enough--that he can turn what would be the worst hits into lesser ones. A throat shot he takes on the shoulder, twisting aside, a second blow to the stomach he manages to turn and partially deflect with his forearm, softening it. Still, he's playing desperate defense at best, and when Cable finally reaches out to snag his shoulder, Prime is unable to resist the takedown, slammed face-first into the floor in such fashion as would have left a crater most anywhere else.
Shoved into the ground that hard, Prime twists his next so glower up at Cable, his eyes now glowing with ruby brilliance. "This is supposed to be a TEST?" he snarls, clearly pushed to the limit of his tolerance by the exchange. Still, he manages to restrain himself enough not to fire off his heat vision quite yet--he'd decided Cable was a friend, and that first impression hasn't yet run out. Not quite.
For a few seconds, Cable continues pulling. Some switch in his mind turned off. Prime might really think he's about to shatter his arm. Then he blinks, grunting and pushing off. "...Yes." he states, closing his eyes and exhaling. The telekinetic sheathe flows away in a burst, leaving him looking worse for wear, given he didn't actually get struck. He's up to his chin in creeping technovirus, and that's only what's visible. "Two things. One, your combative ability. Failure. But your basic instincts are good. Quite good. You could become an excellent fighter. Two, if you'd give up. ...You didn't. Pass. ...Lounge." The room shifts and rustles once more, and a circle of leather couches faces a central black table, and the view of space returns once more. Only it's cozy. Cable heavily slumps down, assuming he's not punched in the face in an outrage. "You're new to this world. It's important to see that your natural strength, power, durability... don't take it for granted. I just proved to you that you can be taken down. And that was through the brute force method. Never be complacent. Never assume you've won, or that things are over. Not until you are sitting home, sipping cocoa... and even then, maybe." This feels familiar. Like a speech he's given before. A hundred faces flash by him in a line, some eager, some terrified. Names. He knows each name. How they died. The curse of his intelligence, at times. "...So. Prime. I'd rate you a low Class S hero in potential. There's no faults in your power. All you need is proper training..."
Once Cable releases him and begins to speak calmly, Prime turns his head to the floor, shutting his eyes tight, and manages to get it under control. He sits up, pushing up and floating unsteadily to his feet. When he opens his eyes, they're normal-colored again. He sinks slowly onto one of the couches, nodding slowly along with Cable's assessment. "So I need to learn," he says slowly, frowning, and reaches up to gingerly rub his wrenched shoulder. "Working hard is important," he says, as if quoting a memory. Or half-memory. "You know someone who'll teach me?"
"I will." Cable states, matter of factly. A narrow tube appears, and with a twhip a cup of ice and liquor. He sensed something dangerous in Prime just then. Something lurking deep within. Superman doesn't get angry and frustrated like that. Keeping an eye on him will be best, in a lot of ways. "If you are Superman, you can do things multiple times faster than normal, right? Books." Suddenly, all around the lounge, bookshelves emerge. Within them are countless tomes, on every aspect of Earth. History, culture, nations, wars. None of it is remotely applicable to living a normal, healthy life, or even includes basics like 'automatic doors are not the devil', but it should be a start. "Begin with this. Learn a bit about where you are. See if it helps you remember where you are from. If you want to learn to fight, fine. But I'm not a gentle teacher. I'm not gentle at all. ... Really, you'd be better off with someone else, depending on what 'heroism' means to you..." He takes a slow, lazy drink. His telekinetics are focused on destroying the infection now. It was less than a minute; nothing major. But it's still going to take a lot of idle attention for a few hours.
Prime nods slowly to this. When the books appear, he rises to his feet. "I don't need a gentle teacher," he concludes. "I need a good one. You can beat me. I want to learn from you." He then turns and approaches the bookshelves, finding the first thing that stands out to him. It may be because of what just happened, or it might be for some more deeply seated reason, but either way his choice may be telling--if a trifle cliché.
Sun Tzu's The Art of War.
"Here. Professor, genetic scan." A flash of blue shimmers over Prime back and forth. "There. Say 'Bodyslide by one' and you will return to Earth, where I found you. Don't test it out, though. It's one way. If you need to get in touch with me..." He throws a small metal device. About the size of a metal lighter. If opened, there's a small black screen and two buttons, one red, one green. "Direct link to me. I can bring you back if you want to study more. Or want to train. If you want food, just ask; I authorized you to eat whatever you want. But you can't change the room. I've got some business to take care of... let me know if you need anything. Bodyslide by one." And then with a shink, Cable vanishes once more.
Category:Log