How do you start a peace?

[Toni Craft]

[[ Aye, he's a pre-teen Craftie! Go Timmy!" ]]

"Hi, Timmy the Awesome… nice to meet you. I’m Bobby the Average; this here is Josh the Exceptional and Laurie the…Endlessly Surprising." Timmy, in his infinite wisdom, snorts at the introductions.

“Exceptional?” He asks, pointing at Josh. “Sure, I’ve heard cool stuff. Endlessly Surprising? Why not. But average?” Timmy lands Bobby with an amused and skeptical look and places his hands on his hips. “Hardly, dude. Do you even know who you are here?”

"Your name wouldn’t happen to be Timmy Rasputin, would it?" He has to laugh at that ridiculous question.

“No way, man. Totally not. I mean, you gotta give mom props for tryin’, but Pete never really gave her the time of day, if you know what I mean. I’m Timmy Russell. You might know my dad, Jack Russell: the much smaller, less scary dude that got all furry during the full moons.” His hands fly up to his head and he flutters his fingers to indicate general head fuzzies.

"Oh! Timmy? You're one of Miss. Craft's um...the future her anyway...you're the...middle one? Um, I met your sister earlier." Turning and cocking his head to the side, Timmy gives Laurie a beaming smile.

“That’s me!” He bows extravagantly, an arm sweeping out in front him. “The glorious and fabulous middle child belonging to the Russell and Craft family. And there’s also Greg, the big mean one, and Jackie, the little furry one, but they’re not nearly as magnificent as I!” Timmy grins, wide and proud, just like his mother used to.

“So…” He steps forward to give the board a thorough once-over. “Past stuff. Booooring. The here and the now is so much more better...I mean, if you like prison and needles and booms and stuff, then it’s totally great.”

[Bobby Drake]

> " Hardly, dude. Do you even know who you are here? "

Bobby’s jaw drops at that… not, fortunately, in the literal sense that he’s quite sure he’s going to have nightmares about for weeks if not years, but in the metaphorical sense of shock. Out of the mouths of babes…

"Dude, that is one hell of a good question. No, I don’t think I do. I know who Colonel Drake is, here… “uber-Nazi” was the phrase you used, right? Even saw the guy. But I’m not him… not yet, anyway. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it. " He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain all of this in terms a 12-year-old can understand when he doesn’t understand it himself. . "You know, I figure he’s kinda like my older brother… and I bet you know how much it sucks when everyone treats you like you’re just a younger version of someone older, right? " Ronnie sure complained about it all the time, and Bobby’s guessing the sentiment is universal.

> " You might know my dad, Jack Russell: the much smaller, less scary dude that got all furry during the full moons. "

Bobby blinks. "Yeah, I know Jack. But then who’s your --"

> " Oh! Timmy? You're one of Miss. Craft's um...the future her anyway...you're the...middle one? Um, I met your sister earlier. "

Bu-what-huh? "Wait, wait, wait… what? Jack and Toni? That’s – I mean, that’s -- " He tries several times to edit his thought into terms suitable for use in front of their prepubescent – albeit precocious – little boy, and finally gives up trying. "That’s really something."

> "I mean, if you like prison and needles and booms and stuff, then it’s totally great. "

"Yeah, I suppose it would be. And, hey, at least you’re important, right? Gotta tell you, though: we got enough booms and stuff back home."

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> "Unless you messed with his head, that is. I mean, past-you… um, I mean, future-past-you… made him forget about it. Except… if you did that, there’d be some kind of indication, wouldn’t there? Could you test for it now? "

Josh frowns. “That’s possible, I guess, but I’m unsure that there’s anyone around that would be able to effectively take over my mind, erase my knowledge of whatever I’ve done, and mess with Warren. Too many things to tamper with. I’m not very good at it, but it’s generally simple to erase a single event - say a guard saw you for a split second in a hallway. Lengthy, sustained events are connected too thoroughly to our memories. It’s pretty hard to block up all the connections.” He looks deep in thought. “So, realistically, I don’t it’s me. In fact, I don’t see how it could really be anyone at the Institute. Jake or I would find out, somehow. I was mostly playing devil’s advocate.”

At this point, a slightly awkward looking (but cute) boy makes his way into the conference room, sparing Laurie from making any conclusions about her future self. He can sense the boy’s internal wariness of Bobby. At least I’m not a pariah in the future. Oh, wait. I’m dead and my husband has turned into Rambo. SO much better. Josh grins slightly, and leans back on the conference table.

> "Hi, Timmy the Awesome… nice to meet you. I’m Bobby the Average; this here is Josh the Exceptional and Laurie the "
“Sure, I’ve heard cool stuff. Endlessly Surprising? Why not. But average?”

Josh snorts. Something about the boy’s way of speaking and mannerisms reminded him of someone… and his mental structure strongly gave off a shade of Toni. Seeing as she was present and accounted for in the future, it was a good guess who his mother was. “Heard cool stuff? What kinds of stories have you heard about me? I hope your mother hasn’t been telling you anything X-rated.” He’d been gathering that his future self was a bit of a legend among those who still had respect for the past. His final stand at the Institute had apparently been impressive. It just hadn’t been enough.

> “Past stuff. Booooring. The here and the now is so much more better...I mean, if you like prison and needles and booms and stuff, then it’s totally great.”

Josh looks over at Timmy. “Do you really like how things are now? I mean, maybe you don’t know any better, since this has been going on for most of your life… but things didn’t used to be quite like this. We’re trying to figure out what went wrong, and when. Maybe you can help us with some things we’re not sure on.”

> "Wait, wait, wait… what? Jack and Toni? That’s – I mean, that’s -- "

He laughs a little. “I know, right? The idea of Toni reproducing is terrifying.” Josh ruffles a hand through Timmy’s hair. “But they’re not as scary as I thought they would be.” He grins at Timmy, daring him to object, but quickly becomes serious. “I have a kind of strange question for you, Timmy. Um, I don’t know if you knew this, but I was actually Uncle Warren’s husband, before I disappeared, back when you were little. And… I had a little boy. His name was Nathan. I’m not sure how old you are, but do you remember anything about him?” Josh looks at Timmy, biting his lip. He was becoming somewhat desperate for information about Nathan. Warren was more than forthcoming about their future together, and he’d learned a lot, but Nathan was a touchy subject. Their son going missing seemed to have deeply scarred Warren.

[Manslaughter]

Soundlessly as ever, never having lost his touch for appearing at inopportune moments, Roger grazes the doorway, taking in the present company with an almost grounded sweep of his eyes. Wait, wait, wait… what? Jack and Toni? That’s – I mean, that’s -- Surprised confusion ripples like water, and he follows it almost effortlessly until it settles like silt at the flanks of a riverbed. I know, right? The idea of Toni reproducing is terrifying. But they’re not as scary as I thought they would be. Reorganizing his priorities, Roger shifts his focus to the concept map on the board, letting his gaze rove from bubble to bubble connected by lines and streaks of past answers that had been erased. Silently, he adds his own events to the sad, messy collection of those that had been but were no longer. Jack. Spot. (He'd chosen family and Sherridan had chosen himself.)

Contemplating the essence of pandemonium, Roger enters without announcing himself. A double-take wouldn't even be needed to discern who he'd once been, even though the lost little boy started to look more and more like a confused young man with self-contempt biting into the pale color of his eyes. Why he'd become this was his own agenda. His own trials and tribulations were meant to stay missing from the board; it was irrelevant to their cause. No particular meaning would be readily drawn from the polarity of his mostly shorn hair and the unkept stubble across his jaw, nor from the same old angles of his elbows and shoulders and knees.

"History," Roger suddenly comments, indicating the notes on the board with a barely visible incline of his head. Mutants everywhere had fought and died to put their deserving mark into the chronicles of time. Would they have fought as hard if they knew that this was how it ended?

^{You're sick sweetheart.. the doctors are going to make you all better.}

Bringing organization to chaos that changed by the second.

Jerking his head up from where it had tilted forward into the curve of his collarbone, Roger traces his thumbs across his fingertips--raw and scarred, unaware that he'd fallen into his own mind for a few minutes, time and its dialogue advancing without him. "All single things lead to another," he adds, providing an indisputable justification to an already obvious truth. "The trivial amends everything--oscillates the future." Growing frustrated with his own words, he settles into an old habit and rocks back on his heels, taking solace in the familiar sight of Timmy and the sheen of his complexion.

Appearing to make up his mind, or at least come to a conclusion, Roger starts over to the dry erase board, seemingly about to make his own endowment to the map. Instead, he takes a handful of the markers and moves away to make use of one of the tables in the room, perhaps making less sense than he did every day twenty years previous.. And as suddenly as he'd started to make a point, he lets it drop just as quickly.

[Laurie Collins]

[]

Laurie’s found herself fading into the background as the conversation grows and picks up pace but she doesn’t mind, she’s just as happy perching on a table near the whiteboard and listening since she doesn’t have much to add anyway: what happens to Bob in the future is sad and scary, she has no idea what to say to children especially those from the post-apocalyptic mutant future, Toni procreating is something she’s already processed (well, as much as she can), and this is the first she’s heard about Josh possibly having a kid. Geez if future-me is hiding any possible…progeny…she can just keep right on hiding that. It’s weird enough thinking of being my mom’s age without being a mom.

When a middle-aged man shuffles into the room and peers around in a way that makes it clear he’s not really all there Laurie wiggles a little nervously in her seat but isn’t really alarmed- Mr. Worthington wouldn’t let anyone dangerous live on the base after all- and once he’s rambled out something about history and oscillating he takes some markers and retreats to the corner. Curious, and feeling a little sorry for the man who has a sort of perpetually lost look, Laurie wanders over after him and peers at the markers sitting abandoned before him. “Hi.” She tries tentatively, “Were you going to write something?”

[Bobby Drake]

> " That’s possible, I guess… [..]So, realistically, I don’t think it’s me. "

Bobby bites his lower lip thoughtfully as Josh explains his reasoning, and nods. "Yeah. If future-you got good enough to play Warren’s strings like that, no way you’d let yourself be killed." Privately, he makes a mental note to confirm that Josh really was was killed the way history records, but he’s really only being methodical… his gut echoes Josh’s logic.

> " Heard cool stuff? What kinds of stories have you heard about me? I hope your mother hasn’t been telling you anything X-rated. "

Bobby snorts at that. "Josh, this is Toni we’re talking about. I figure you’re doing pretty well if she restricts herself to the true X-rated stuff."

> " I had a little boy. His name was Nathan. I’m not sure how old you are, but do you remember anything about him?"

He what? (( OOC: I don’t remember anymore whether Bob heard about Nathan… if so, I’m retconning now. )) Bobby’s eyes bug out slightly at the news. "Um… Josh, please tell me Nathan was adopted? I mean, I know Warren’s got a freaky metabolism and stuff, but I do not want to think about the alternatives."

The response slips out before Bobby connects the dots in his mind and realizes he’s standing there making jokes about Josh’s missing kid. Or… well, missing nephew, at least. He’s about to apologize when he’s distracted by a new arrival who pads in and inspects the board.

> "History. All single things lead to another. The trivial amends everything--oscillates the future."

Bobby blinks in confusion a few times, trying to make sense of that as the newcomer wanders into a corner and Laurie wanders over to join him. He’s right, of course, but knowing that doesn’t really help… what Bobby was hoping for was to identify specific incidents that could nudge the future in the directions he wanted.

"That was… odd," he adds to Josh, though not especially quietly. "I wonder if he has any particular ‘oscillating trivialities’ in mind, or if that was more of a general observation? "

[Toni Craft]

"You know, I figure he’s kinda like my older brother… and I bet you know how much it sucks when everyone treats you like you’re just a younger version of someone older, right? " Timmy thinks on the question for a moment.

“People treat me like a young version of my mom, but that’s cool, since she’s not funny anymore. I gotta keep the funnies going, ya know?” He scratches the side of his bald head before grinning brightly.

“Heard cool stuff? What kinds of stories have you heard about me? I hope your mother hasn’t been telling you anything X-rated.”

“Oh no, not X-rated. Just R-rated. Like about how she totally walked in on you two in the shower or how she used to steal your dog while you were going at it so that she could give her snake something to play with. Mom left out all the details though, which sucks more than a leech on steroids.”

“I know, right? The idea of Toni reproducing is terrifying.” When Josh’s hand comes towards his head, Timmy ducks and steps back.

“Whoa whoa whoa! No touchy the head, dude. You know how much time it takes this thing to get as glossy as it is? With my complexion?” He asks, pointing to his metallic, hairless head. “And what’s so scary about my mom havin’ kids? My mom’s cool! I mean...it would be terrifying if she ended up popping out more kids like Greg, but I wouldn’t complain if more of me started walking around. Actually, that’d be pretty neat. We’d be the biggest army of marvelousness like ever.” He’s about to ramble on more about what his marvelous army would do with all the chocolate milkshakes they’d make, but Josh interrupts him.

“I’m not sure how old you are, but do you remember anything about him?”

“Nathan? Ummm…I think Mr. Warren mentioned him once, maybe...or that could have been Nathaniel, the lizard-dude. Beats me.” He shrugs.

"The trivial amends everything--oscillates the future."

“Hey Rog!” Timmy waves from his place between Sgt. Evil himself Bobby and Josh, before turning to whisper at the former. “That’s Roger. He’s cool, but he’s like a total nutjob. If you don’t get what he’s tryin’ to say, just smile and nod and give him a cookie. That always makes him happy.”

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> "Um… Josh, please tell me Nathan was adopted? I mean, I know Warren’s got a freaky metabolism and stuff, but I do not want to think about the alternatives."

Josh looks sadly at Bobby, and his attempt at humor doesn't even register. “He was - or will be.” He shakes his head slightly at the confusing tenses. “Apparently I stop Jake and Ororo and Logan from mind-blocking a Class-5 toddler in a couple years. One without parents… and Warren and I adopt him. And it sounds amazing… I never knew how much I wanted a kid until I heard all the stuff I get to do, like take him to preschool, and go on family vacation, and fingerpaint, and teach him to brain people with his telepathy, and…” Josh realizes he’s rambling, a coverup for the emotions he’s feeling at the moment. “Anyway. My future life is apparently perfect. Until I get lasered by Sentinels, my 10-year-old disappears when our home blows up and my husband turns into… I don’t even know what he turns into.” Agitated, Josh turns back to Timmy.

> Like about how she totally walked in on you two in the shower or how she used to steal your dog while you were going at it so that she could give her snake something to play with.

“Yeah, well, your mom was just jealous I got to the hottest guy on the team before she did…” Josh mumbles under his breath, not even trying to touch the last statement.

> “Nathan? Ummm…I think Mr. Warren mentioned him once, maybe...or that could have been Nathaniel, the lizard-dude. Beats me.”

Disappointed, Josh sits back on the conference table, trying to put bad memories out of his mind. “Okay, guys. We’re here to figure out what we have to change in the past in order to keep all of this bad stuff from happening.” He gestures at the white board. “To me, it looks like the events in Washington really touch off most of the bad stuff that happens. Everything spreads out from there. So we’ve got to either intervene there and prevent the nuclear launches, or discover who’s behind it all and stop them.”

> "I wonder if he has any particular ‘oscillating trivialities’ in mind, or if that was more of a general observation? "

Josh looks oddly at the muttering man who makes his way into the conference room. "Somehow, I think it was more general. But that's just based on a 5 second observation..." He seemed incredibly familiar. But familiar in a decidedly bad way. Hmm… Wait. It’s not… It is. His eyes narrow, and he reaches out with his powers, lifting Roger off the ground and pinning him to the white board.

> “That’s Roger - -“

“I don’t really care what his name is. But he started the Times Square Riot in 2007. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t play telekinetic pinball with his nerve-stimulating little noggin.” Josh spits this out, and then tips Roger upside down for good measure.

[Bobby Drake]

> People treat me like a young version of my mom, but that’s cool, since she’s not funny anymore. I gotta keep the funnies going, ya know?

Bobby’s a little disappointed at not having gotten his point across, but the conversation seems to have moved on from his famous Naziness, so he decides to let it go. "Right. Well, at least you have job security… there’s not a whole lot of funny competing with you, from the looks of it. At least now we know what you get when you cross a tank with a werewolf."

He’s distracted from the pre-adolescent banter by Josh’s all-too-serious summary of the history of Nathan. The idea of Josh and Warren as parents is distracting enough in its own right, but it’s the phrases “class 5” and “telepath” that really catches his attention.

Oh, man. He is so not gonna like this. Reluctantly, Bobby picks up his marker again, strikes out Josh’s name, and adds “Nathan” to the list as Josh finishes his summary

> " my husband turns into… I don’t even know what he turns into. "

"A soldier," Bobby replies without hesitation. "Which, frankly, I can’t blame him for, once it turned into a war." Privately, he realizes he’s being self-serving here… he could say much the same for himself, after all, even if he can’t make sense out of the side he apparently chose. Still true, though.

"Doesn’t seem like anybody else around here was volunteering... and, frankly, I’m guessing he didn’t have much else going on once you were… you know. Dead." And again he realizes he’s not entirely talking about Warren, and decides to let the subject drop.

> " the events in Washington really touch off most of the bad stuff that happens. Everything spreads out from there. So we’ve got to either intervene there and prevent the nuclear launches, or discover who’s behind it all and stop them. "

"Yeah." He looks over the list, which now reads “Emma, Nikki, Josh, Jake, Danny, Laurie, Primer, Military: drugs, Nathan,” and asks the question he’s been struggling with for days. "So what’s their motive? Whoever kicked off the whole business, I mean. None of these guys are the sort to start a war for the sake of it, not even Primer. So what were they trying to do?"

> " That’s Roger. He’s cool, but he’s like a total nutjob. "

That description rings some bells in Bobby’s memory, from a long-ago debriefing session with John about the Brotherhood… but before he can quite put it together, Josh is way ahead of him.
> " Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t play telekinetic pinball with his nerve-stimulating little noggin "

"Um… because you might piss off his boss, our winged host, without whom we probably won’t ever get off this base?"

[Christopher Bertrand]

One thing he never thought would happen- has happened. There was so much access to computers and the Internet back home (Because, seriously, which highly logic-applying machine will have the capacity to call it "back in the day," while keeping in mind that in this case it was decidedly not just a wistful expression, only a small amount of time after being unplugged, which feels much the same way a hand ripping a certain part of one's brain might feel, overloaded with new information, and prevented from connecting to the internet? Well alright, he's not a pure machine, and is instead simply too unwilling to deal with the implications of possibilities time travel would offer to an idle mind. Still, same result.), and now there was none.

Well, not quite. But he has already done all he possibly could for the machines in the base, and gathered a significant portion of the information from that, thus rendering them virtually insignificant, and the only escape he has left is the Internet. However, that greedy bastard of his future self has infiltrated himself so deep into the system that he can detect any kind of sentient entry into it, and prevent it. So, whenever he attempts to hack in, all he is met with is some form of protection against intruders. Apparently, Future Christopher (because there is no way in hell that he has kept the "Chris" or even the last name after having been connected to computers for so long) is allowing only the kind of Internet Access that is available to those who have no cyberpathic ability whatsoever. Sadly, whatever Chris (it makes it easier to distinguish himself in this way, considering that he still tends to think of everything in third person; damn Roman emperors for it) tries to do with any kind of computer always ends up in him integrating with it, thus sending very apparent cyberpathic signatures to any kind of network he might attach himself to.

In other words, withdrawals have never been more severe. He wanders around the base almost all day, just passing time, and using the opportunity to meet plentiful playful progeny and an equal amount of scarred adults. Typically enough, he has already gotten a reputation of a drug addict, a weirdo, and numerous other names of different meaning but same purpose. Fortunately, this time there seem to be a few who at least are just as weird, albeit probably not regarded as such in equal measure merely for the fact that he is "new news" and they are "old news."

It is no wonder, then, that he stumbles eventually across the merry back-tracking bunch. At least there are people whom he knows and are from back home. Better yet, with his own self included, the amount of "past types" is at a refreshing 66.67%, with 33.33% being occupied by one of said playful progeny, and a rather hyperactive one at that, and one of those "old news" weirdos. Well, at least the boy is harmless, in most cases. Much like his mother, although there is a 17% greater chance of him being dangerous merely for the fact that he is young and in extent temperamental. Numbers have, at least, been a significant outlet for him. Lots of calculations, and little use for them, other than to organize a highly detailed trivia quiz. Main prize- a full marker and two extra minutes in the cold shower. That has been bothering him as well.

It is at times when he is more human, and he has never been more human than now, than machine that his other traits appear, and one of them is perfectionism brought to a small level of OCD. Oh well.

"That is quite a list of suspects. Even though I might completely disagree after I have had some contact with a computer, I think you might be able to eliminate Jake as well- he is only about seven percent dangerous, which is the equivalent of shed tools." he says, directly immersing himself into conversation with the "pasties", disregarding the other two because he has the impression that the boy will just disregard him as "the newcomer weirdo" or whatever the popular name is, and the other one is negligible because of the capital amount of failure to communicate coherently with the world around.

He stops trying to analyze those present once he realizes that his words might have been taken as the slightest bit of an insult. "I'm sorry if it sounded rude, the calculation was based not only on ability, but on personality as well."

[Bobby Drake]

> " I think you might be able to eliminate Jake as well- he is only about seven percent dangerous, which is the equivalent of shed tools. I'm sorry if it sounded rude, the calculation was based not only on ability, but on personality as well.""

Bobby hadn’t noticed Chris’ arrival, distracted as he is by the altercation between Josh and Roger, but he turns around to reply anyway… maybe changing the subject altogether will placate Josh before he starts an unnecessary – though admittedly satisfying – fight. Hell, if I have to make nice-nice with Primer and his pet wolf after they beat me into pieces, he can put up with the crazy redhead.

"Yeah, I don’t think it’s too likely either. But add Cerebro to the equation and who knows what he can do? Hell, the Professor could kill every human on the planet using that thing… driving D.C. crazy is chump change compared to that."

[Manslaughter]

Actively occupied with the markers, Roger turns them over in his hands, contemplating a pattern of red, green, red, green, blue, red, green and righting them tops up in a line. The blonde girl approaches his left side, hesitantly asking him something--what she says he isn't sure--as if she's speaking a language he doesn't know. Balancing the final dry-erase marker, he tilts his head to make sense of the murmuring of those in the room, picking out his name once in the conversation before reaching out to touch the beeline of markers.

That's Roger --

Sudden warnings go off in his head, a tightness accumulating in his chest and Roger stiffens as his body jerks up and back without his consent, pressed hard against the wall like a fly beneath a newspaper. The breath in his lungs rushes out in a fell swoop, and he hones in on his attacker, his eyes bright in a brimming of tears where his head suddenly met the wall. I don’t really care what his name is. But he started the Times Square Riot in 2007. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t play telekinetic pinball with his nerve-stimulating little noggin.[/color] Tilting his chin up, his chest staggering to regain some air, he gets a good, hard look at Josh's face just as the muscles in his neck flex and Elliot telepathically shouts into his mind. Roger don't--!

A hooded, daring look crosses into his eyes as he probes the link between Josh and himself, quickly giving a tightening flutter to the nerves underlying the muscles of his heart before releasing them. He does nothing more then, pale and pinned against the pattern of the wall--staring expectantly at his foe.

The single marker he'd palmed in the crease of his hand sways a little, falling into the others he'd lined up. Consecutively, they fall one after the other, one previous action leading to another. Dominoes.

(Okay, so, I hope that isn't godmoding. 0_0 But bear in mind that it's just a warning, like a dog snapping or something. It'd only make his heart skip a beat, it won't kill him or disfigure his ventricles or anything like Roger'd normally do. He'd've learned something in 20 years for sure. xD)

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie, listening in a sort of nervously peripheral way to the conversation taking place back in the little planning huddle she’s left to talk to the newcomer (or try to anyway), hunches up her shoulders in an almost defensive posture at the bits of the conversation that reach her. She’s still working herself up to these moments of determination- managing to take control of the situation at the camps, making decisions in the days after, and writing her name on the list- building them up like stones she can lay down in a path and step on to bridge her way to…something else, something other than this future and this self who couldn’t stop the people she cared about dying and doesn’t seem to have even tried. Now, listening to Bobby and Josh picking apart people she knows and trusts, themselves, her, it’s hard not to break in and remind them that they’re just doing this to examine every angle, that there’s no way it could really have been one of them…right? But look what one of us ends up doing, she thinks, looks quickly over her shoulder at Bobby, then whips her attention back to Roger (that’s what Timmy called him isn’t it?)…just in time for one of his shoes to barely avoid whacking her in the face as he goes flying by. She yelps in surprise and scrambles back a few steps, What…who..?

" Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t play telekinetic pinball with his nerve-stimulating little noggin"
"Um… because you might piss off his boss, our winged host, without whom we probably won’t ever get off this base?"

She gapes at Josh for a moment as he identifies himself as the source of the attack before joining Bob’s sensible reason with a rather more heated one of her own, “Because he isn’t doing anything now and who we were in 2007 doesn’t seem to mean much here. He could be the Brotherhood’s moral compass now for all you know.” She rushes out, before biting her lip and looking a little embarrassed at the uncharacteristic outburst, unsure why defending someone she’s never met is so important all of a sudden- besides the fact that no one really likes seeing someone lifted through the air and slammed into things- and uncomfortable with all these sudden upsurges of irritation or fear. Everyone else keeps themselves under control, what’s wrong with me? She looks at the list of names on the board again and wonders uncomfortably if it has something to do with wanting to be sure that it really will turn out differently, that Bobby isn’t really considering people so coldly and Josh would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She opens her mouth to apologize but Mr. Bertrand chooses that moment to wander in, consider them all in that unnerving way he has and then come out with-

"That is quite a list of suspects. Even though I might completely disagree after I have had some contact with a computer, I think you might be able to eliminate Jake as well- he is only about seven percent dangerous, which is the equivalent of shed tools”


Mr. Sheppard? But he’s the headmaster and he does…mind-things…wait that’s the name he eliminates? Not mine? He thinks my pheromones are more dangerous than mind-things? "I'm sorry if it sounded rude, the calculation was based not only on ability, but on personality as well." Oh great and my personality is more dangerous than his too. According to probably the most accurate person in the world. She goes sort of wide-eyed again and backs up. Maybe I should just stay out of this…

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> "Um… because you might piss off his boss, our winged host, without whom we probably won’t ever get off this base?"

> “Because he isn’t doing anything now and who we were in 2007 doesn’t seem to mean much here. He could be the Brotherhood’s moral compass now for all you know.”

Josh stares at the board as Bobby adds the word ‘Nathan’ to the quickly-growing list of possible suspects. “But… Nathan was just a little boy when this all happened. There’s no way… come on, Bobby. Do you really think…” His voice trails off, hurt. Deep down, though, he's not convinced by his own argument.

In the meantime, Josh’s concentration has slipped slightly, and Roger has begun floating free from where Josh was pressing him to the white board. Startled, a small jolt of surprise and fear runs through him. Idiot. Even if he did start the riot, Laurie’s right. It’s been nearly 20 years. Things - and people - are different now.

He sets Roger down carefully on the ground, making sure to turn him rights-side up. “Sorry… I just kind of reacted.” Josh mumbles this, looking at the ground. It didn’t help that the boy - man now, even older than him - was not all there, mentally. Their files said he had some kind of psychosis. It was a miracle he hadn’t lashed out. “Really sorry. It’s just hard to remember that everyone’s not who they were back in 2007…” Josh puts his hand out to Roger with a sheepish smile. “Josh. We kind of met in New York, but I think you might have been too motion-sick to notice.”

[Bobby Drake]

> " Because he isn’t doing anything now and who we were in 2007 doesn’t seem to mean much here. He could be the Brotherhood’s moral compass now for all you know. "

Bobby blinks at that, and turns around to look Laurie over carefully. She’s entirely right, of course, but the Laurie he remembers wasn’t the sort to let being right be sufficient grounds for actually saying anything.

Looks like some of us are changing even without the benefit of twenty years, he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud. Instead he settles for giving her a quick “good for you!” type grin and a nod before returning to the project at hand.

> “But… Nathan was just a little boy when this all happened.
> There’s no way… come on, Bobby. Do you really think…”

Bobby would give a lot not to be the official bad guy for this conversation, but there’s no getting around it. "Josh… I’m really sorry. And if you can give me a reason to take his name off the list I’ll be the happiest guy in the room. But... the key phrase here is ‘class 5 telepath.’" He wants to add a comment about what happened when Dr. Grey unleashed her powers, but decides to keep his mouth shut and quit while he’s behind… Josh knows perfectly well what happened, and being reminded that his mentor would also be on Bobby’s list if Logan hadn’t skewered her probably won’t make him feel any better.

Which, of course, raises another question. The last time they’d gone up against a rogue Class 5, they’d lost Scott and Professor Xavier and they’d had to kill her to stop her. What if it really is another one of their own, this time? Could I do it, if I had to? His power was probably adequate… he could have frozen Dr. Grey’s brain to a block of ice, if it were a Danger Room simulation. But in real life, could he just kill a teammate like that?

Warren did, he reminds himself. Something else he’s not going to say out loud, not in Timmy’s hearing, anyway. But Warren was a soldier by then, and Logan is… well, Logan is Logan. And for all his martial arts and tactics and superpowers Bobby’s nothing more than a mutant adventurer, and he knows it.

Could he do it, if it needed doing? Kill a teammate? The truth is he doesn’t know, and prays never to find out. Which would be more reassuring if he believed in prayer.