Not tried, merely survived [tag: Toni / Open]

[Pyro]

How the fuck did we end up here?

It's a logical enough question, given that this is - supposedly John adds, because dammit it still doesn't make any sense, though trying to discredit the idea feels increasingly like something done out of principle rather than conviction - 2027. The state the world's fallen in to, as a larger philosophical place to have ended up, is also worthy of contemplation. But it's a much smaller question, one of logistics, that's bothering the pyromaniac. He's fairly sure - somewhere after the cold and the flame and a second Bob and a car crash and more cold (none of which, he can be certain, happened in anything like that order) and before getting here - that Plan B was involved, but he's not sure if that's a memory from some other November-gone-wrong.

Known fact one, then; he knows that everything hurts, with a dull ache he's not been used to since he got powers - the ache of fighting with fists and feet, close-in, and not from 100 foot away with flames and lasers and objects hurled around by nothing more than force of mind.

(Sub note; impressive bruises, therefore, are no doubt on the way, with which - he's fairly sure, because he knows he remembers something about a daring rescue in there somewhere - he can guilt-trip the Icicle and impress Leechette (where the hell is she, anyway?))

Known fact two; this, it seems, is the new Brotherhood HQ - specifically, a sofa somewhere in it, on which he's curled and near which no one seems especially willing to go, not with him glowering out over the rim of his mug, dark-eyed and sullen - though it feels weird saying that because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. HQ is, and always will be, the run down boarding house. It's Erik Magneto and Raven Mystique - not Primer, and definitely not Warren (seriously, what the fuck?). It is - fuck it, if he can't be honest with himself, then what's the point? - home, no matter how much he and the Leather Emporium like to pretend that it was a hideous mistake of a period in his life with no redeeming features. It's not this, not haggard, dead-eyed mutants he's never met staring at him like they've seen a ghost.

(Sub-note two; said mutants, and something the might-be-second-Bob might have said, if his memory is correct, about getting a lot of good people killed... where, exactly, is the might-be-second-him?)

Known fact three; there's no coffee. He knows this because when they arrived, however that was and wherever this might be, some girl he didn't recognise took his shivers as a reason to hand him a mug of some insipid brown liquid, tasting of chalk and metal - hot chocolate made with water, apparently, as they 'ain't got no milk' - and when he asked about coffee she said they 'ain't got none of that neither'.

(Sub-note c... erm, three - fuck, this logic thing's hard work; it is, therefore, not his fault if he savages half of the new Brotherhood to death come morning when the caffeine withdrawal kicks in.)

Known fact four; this? Fucking sucks.

[Toni Craft]

What were the odds that her future self had kept her Clay Aiken CD even after all the death, destruction and chaos that this world had bestowed upon them? Probably not good. But then again, this is Toni, and her powers of pack-rat-ism are truly astonishing and award-worthy.

She’s had that stalker-esque ‘Invisible’ song stuck in her head all day, and Toni really needs to find that CD before her brain imploded from lack of knowing all the lyrics. I want my nerdy hunk-man fix, dammit!

She’s scoured room after room, searching boxes and warehouses and crates, no matter how futile the effort seemed. But as she rounds into the next dreary little chamber, Clay with his adorable little smile and southern accent is quickly forgotten as another man appears into view.

“Johnny! My little blondikins!” Despite is obvious sour demeanor and roughened appearance, Toni smothers him in a cheery, rib crushing hug, but not before giving him a joyous kiss on the lips. With her typical ‘yay you’re not dead!’ greeting aside, Toni proceeds to ruffle his filthy hair and absently brushing a few specks of dirt that have transferred themselves from his old torn shirt to her own. “No one told me you were bootin’ it about down here! Where’ve you been, man? You missed all the fun with the smashing and the burning and the exploding and the tibia-breaking! Smooshing bad guys is fuuuuun!” She grins wide as she scrunches his shoulders in a sideways hug.

[Pyro]

People watching isn't really John's style, but it's almost become a game - when the scowling-glaring-sulking thing's too fucking boring on it's own and he can be arsed to rouse himself from self-absorption - to try and find someone, anyone he recognizes in the others rumbling around the new HQ, and to ponder in a disinterested half-arsed kinda way whether they're the now-which-is-somehow-past-them or the future-which-is-somehow-now-them. The yowl of 'My little blondikins!' can only be one person, and however much he doubts that the irrepressible Ms. Craft will ever change John's betting this is the 2007 model. Definitely uses the standard 2007 model greeting (he winces as, with little - or so, after Deke's administrations, it feels - left to actually crack, his ribs just creak and grind).

"Fucking hate that nickname" he protests, albeit without any real fire. "And haven't been blonde since Kaytraz." (... well, it's hardly 'Oh my god, you're alive!', or anything, but whatever; if it's reassurance that he's okay that she's looking for, then it's fairly obvious he's his usual self, a few bruises to both body and pride nonwithstanding).

< Where've you been, man? You missed all the fun
"Fun. Right." John rolls his eyes and snorts dismissively. "This is fun... can't think of anything I'd rather do than have to escape from an evil-robot-dictator Icicle who wants to pump me full of Cure and ship me off to Neverland... Fuck me, the future's bloody brilliant, isn't it?"

That'd be the sarcasm gland in full working order, then...

[Laurie Collins]

[[Mentioned coming in on this awhile back so if either of you still live...hi! Come play with future!Laurie, now with 90% less freezing in terror]]

“…haven't been blonde since Kaytraz."

The familiar voice stops Laurie’s progress back from the kitchen to what is, apparently, her new room and there’s that moment of shock at hearing a dead man’s voice that still isn’t fading even after the experiences of her first day on base and meeting a sixteen year old version of her long dead ex-boyfriend. In a way though it’s less startling with John, he’d still been alive when she’d left the Institute and relatively unchanged, in her perception at least, from the John she’d known at sixteen. It’s easy to pretend, with him just out of view, that this is the voice of a classmate she hasn’t seen in awhile rather than that of some bizarre time-traveling Pyro from 2007 and she finds herself lingering by the doorway a little wistfully. It’s not that she has such a storehouse of fond memories about her former schoolmate- most of their interaction had taken the distinct tone of him humoring her for whatever reason- but the continuity is reassuring. Drake might be a traitor, Warren might have hardened, mutant-hating government officials might be screeching for her head on a platter, but John is still snarking away in whatever timeline.

Then Toni’s voice pipes up from inside the room, something about missing the fun, and Laurie stiffens, backing up a step reflexively before realizing it’s probably the Toni from 2007 rather than the older model whom she’s been avoiding like the plague. Not that she has anything against Toni, quite the opposite in fact, she’s more nervous about how her former teacher feels about her. Sure she’d always been pretty light-hearted but the Craft siblings had also always had a protective streak for each other and though it’s years in the past she has no idea what the older Toni would have to say about the way she’d walked out on her brother, something she doesn’t expect her to understand any better than Matthew had.

“…Fuck me, the future's bloody brilliant, isn't it?"
That snaps her out of her thoughts and makes her laugh aloud before she can think better of it, after which there’s really no choice but to enter the room, tipping the beer she’d grabbed from the kitchen in greeting to the pair on the couch. “And you haven’t even seen the television yet, I assume. Law&Order: Mutant Division anyone?” She manages to keep her features under a tight rein and speak with passable levity, something she’s had to learn to do the hard way in her line of work, but it’s a shock to suddenly find herself older than these two and potentially unrecognizable with the addition of years and the rather miraculous gain of poise.

[Toni Craft]

"And haven't been blonde since Kaytraz." Toni gives his now rather brown hair a little ruffle.

“And it’s a damn shame too. It really matched the whole leather thing quite well.” Her fingers pluck at his grimy jacket, careful to avoid a matted patch of mud. “When we get back to the ‘Stute I’ll whip out the peroxide and we can bleach each other’s hair. How’s that sound? I want streaks! And polka-dots! Lots and lots of polka-dots! Then we can prance around in lots of leather!”

“The future's bloody brilliant, isn't it?"

“It’s freakin’ fantastic! They’ve invented this new type of pudding, only it’s not pudding, it’s like broccoli mush...but it’s doesn’t taste like broccoli. It tastes more like butterscotch and it’s totally awesome! You can have butterscotch broccoli pudding with your din din instead of veggies! I don’t know who invented the stuff, but I’m intent on making them my personal love slave.” Toni’s about to rant on some more about another fabulous food invention — this one genetically engineered bananas that taste like chocolate — but she’s interrupted by the slightly sardonic but familiar laughter.

“And you haven’t even seen the television yet, I assume. Law&Order: Mutant Division anyone?” At first Toni has no idea who’s talking at her, but she eventually sees through the lines on the face and the rather frazzled hair. It’s Laurie...but not Laurie...old Laurie, like how there’s an old version of herself, Warren and Ororo. Toni blinks a few times, not completely sure how to take her rather sudden appearance, but then the mention of the mutant-ized Law & Order pique her interest.

“Hey! Law & Order: MD was totally my idea! I though that up like...years ago! Curse that NBC for profiting off my ideas in the future! How dare they?!” Shifting on the couch, Toni looks Old Laurie over with a cock of her head. She looks more...sober than Little Laurie. Like an old war vet that still has nightmares of being in the trenches. “So...what other shows have those accursed writers copied from me? It’s totally not fair that they can just dump all my favourite shows in the middle of the season because of some dumbass strike and then come back and steal all my ideas and make money off them them….Hey! What happens at the end of Heroes? Wait! Don’t tell me! I don’t want to ruin the ending...Sylar eats lots of brains, doesn’t he?”