| 1/26 - Jamie |
[Jan. 26th, 2008|02:05 pm] |
1/26/2008
Logfile from Jubilee.
=MS= Cell Block One
Another day, another pair of orderlies bearing pills and heavy, large hands. They are rather efficient. A prompt so expectable as to be almost dull, take these or else, girly, a glass of water, a wait for a swallow, and they're marching her out of the cell and into the corridor.
Jubilee is nearly to the smooth doors of the observation rooms before the first signal of the effects of that dosing start to rise, though the effect is hardly distinguishable from typical reaction to attention from On High. Her breath shortens and shallows and a wave of vertigo is likely a result of still depleted glucose levels, fear, and the heavy hand push from behind before the doors swing shut. She reaches for the wall and holds on.
And on the other side of the cell, pressed up against the concrete, his arms folded in a state of almost-repose, is a Madrox. Not one of the /particularly/ battered one, just a Madrox. "Hi."
Jubilee flips around, and if it feels quicker to her than it appears to him, well, how is anyone to tell? She presses her shoulders against the steady, /still/ comfort of the wall and groans. "You again. What for, wonder. Hi." She shivers and slides down the wall into a squat at the base.
"They don't tell me much. What's up?" the Madrox says evenly. "I figure there must be some purpose, seeing as I live across from you. Why, we're neighbors." The Madrox shifts more upright sitting, just as an oily British voice pipes into the room. "I'll give you a moment to get situated."
Jubilee flinches and looks up. "Get situated? How?" she calls up and out, blinking, then dropping her face to rub at her eyes with her finger.
"Talk. Please. It'll be fun," the oily British voice promises. "Are you familiar with William Tell?" Madrox glances up ... "toward" the voice, more or less. "Oh gee."
Madrox pages, "I'm okay with more trauma regardless! I'm happy to do what I did with Sarah - if a duplicate makes sense, there will be another one."
Jubilee shakes her head. It is meant to be a negative, but it just keeps going. At least until she clambers back up to her feet, walking herself up the wall behind her with one hand for support. "No? Who's he?" She looks at Madrox for an answer to her question.
"There's a story. About a fellow forced to shoot an apple off of his son's head." Madrox hums something a bit loudly. Da-da-da, da-da-da, da da da - da - daaa. "It's a song." He seems, perhaps, not worried enough as he ought to be. There's a hint of - remove about him. The voice says nothing.
Da-da. Jubilee takes up the wordless hum herself, then giggles suddenly. That sound is aborted abruptly as well. "I wouldn't mind an apple. Maybe we could make apple pie." She blinks, narrows her eyes, looks closer at Madrox, then rubs at her eyes again.
"You are totally stoned, aren't you," Madrox says regretfully after a long moment of apparent ponderance. "Jubilee," says the voice. "Would you fire a low intensity plasma, ah, ball against the wall Madrox is currently occupying?"
"Stoned? Pfft." Jubilee snorts in denial, then swings her face up toward the source of the voice. "Okey-dokey." She lifts her hand and looks down at it, waiting for her powers to respond to her already altered mental commands. When the bacll goes form, it is bright and glowing faintly pink, and her eyes widen in fascination. Very pretty. She flings it away against the wall, away from Madrox. Instead of exploding on contact, however, it holds form and "bounces" in a manner of speaking back to her. She crows in delight. "Hey!"
"Very nice," says the voice, even as Madrox pulls himself to his feet. The voice further notes, "If you would fire a slightly larger ball at that wall, I would appreciate it."
"I wanted a ball! I told Lori I wanted a ball!" Jubilee complies, the ball of tightly compacted energy forming from marble sized to vending machine ball sized and bouncing back to her in the same manner as before.
"A little larger, please," says the voice, and Madrox folds his arms behind his head. "Well, look," says the dupe reasonably. "You're getting a ball. Bigger and bigger every time."
And again, she does. Only this time, instead of bouncing back, Madrox's comment distracts her and the energy ball explodes noisily, if mostly harmlessly, against the wall. A faint smell of burnt ozone gathers in the cell. "Aw." Oh well. She scuttles forward a couple steps toward Jamie.
Madrox's nostrils twitch with discomfort, but he keeps his arms folded behind his head, watching Jubilee. "I wish you weren't stoned." "Again, larger please," prompts the voice.
"I'm not stoned. God. Do you know what they'd /do/ to me if they caught me on drugs?" Who 'they' are is hard to determine. Jubilee shivers and wraps her hands around her arms as she starts to pace, ignoring the droning voice. "Maybe /you/ are."
"It doesn't matter," Madrox notes, and half-closes his eyes. "I'm sorry that we didn't get to talk more, right?" The voice is persistent. "Larger ball. Now, Jubilee. Or no dinner tonight."
Jubilee flips the voice the bird cheerfully and crosses to flop down next to Madrox. "So talk now!" A sheen of sweat highlights the curves of her forehead and nose, and her breath is coming faster and lighter.
"I don't know what to say, really. Just - don't beat yourself up too much," is probably rather cryptic in light of Jubilee's condition. "Jubilee. /Now/. Or we paint your walls with Jeremy's blood." Dave is getting impatient.
"Ok," she promises with easy confidence underscored by drug-pushed cheer. Dave's comment gathers up her attention and turns it on the walls of the cell /they/ inhabit. Her imagination paints gory vividness across the walls--crimson red drips and slides down drab concrete walls. "Nu-uh! I got a promise!" she calls up. "You don't touch 'im an' I'm gonna power the worrrrrld!" For a demonstration, another bundle of light and energy rockets up to burst against the ceiling. It may be construed as cooperation.
Madrox winces one eye shut against the bright. And decides to keep talking. "I mean, it's probably better for Jamie if none of us come back," he states, idly. The voice is still feeling impatient. "Wall, not the ceiling."
At these levels, even Jubilee's drained system can keep supplying pafs of energy for quite a while. She tosses up another one to hit against the wall opposite them. "You're wrong," Jubilee carols and leans against him, shoulders bumping in an irritating pattern and force. "Jamie loves you! Monet loves you! I think." Moo.
"One more, a little larger than any you've created yet," instructs the voice. "Please get away from Madrox." Madrox shrugs a cramped, pressed little shrug. He hasn't changed his position at all, save from inclining his head away from Jubilee's lean and bump. He's very tense. "It's not a matter of love."
"Sure it is. All life is about love!" says the little looney love-wary Jubilee before shrugging and shifting around so she's not technically next to him any longer. Just in front of him, on her knees, one hand on her knee, the other upturned and glowing. Rainbow colored sparks fly upward like escaping fireflies. Very pretty.
"Then let's put it this way. I don't mind if I don't go back. Because I /do/ love Jamie, right?" He watches the flicker of sparks broadly. Vaguely. His breath comes quite slow. "Jubilee," the voice prompts.
Dazed, glazed, and amazed--that's Jubilee. She smiles vaguely, not quite understanding, but in far too good a mood to argue further. She pats his knee with her unoccupied hand and gathers her feet under her as she sets the paff free to explode deafeningly against the wall above Jamie, near the source of the voice. She doesn't even flinch. Instead she watches the smoke curl out from the point of impact with a fascinated expression.
Madrox doesn't escape pulling himself down into a half duck, there. He releases his arm fold and wraps them around himself, squinting upward. He's almost on his knees without realizing it. "Again," says the voice. "Larger."
Jubilee sighs and turns a rapt expression totally out of place in their surroundings down on Jamie. "I'm the entertainment, see? Everyone thinks Fourth o' July but I like New Years better." This time the explosion scars the texture of the wall, fine dust carved free and floating.
"It is January, isn't it?" Jamie asks, folding his arms tighter around himself as he slips down into a squatting sit. His hair is peppered very lightly with dust. "Again," says the voice.
Jubilee forms another, as ordered. This one rises slowly, spinning in dazzling currents of color that burn visual after images. Another flies up, streaming a tail until catches up to orbit around the larger ball. Jubilee is captivated and not obeying very well.
Madrox takes in a very deep breath and ... takes in another. "Very pretty." The voice says nothing.
Jubilee adds another, and another, juggling the compressed pockets of plasma with diminishing awareness for outside constraints. With a laugh and a puffing of her cheeks, she releases them to zip toward four corners of the room as the middle, large ball blossoms out in a concussive rush of energy. From euphoria to something else-- Jubilee squeals and covers her head. "Don't let it get away!"
Madrox is ducking more now, kind of compressed into a more cramped ball than before, "Jubilee," he hisses out between his teeth. "Whatever happens, it wasn't your fault. They were going to kill me anyway, right?"
Jubilee squats and peers out from underneath her arms. "Don't let it get away. Catch it! Catch it!" she yells as her powers continue to spin out in a mixture of slow and fast moving globs in response to her mental control, albeit addled mental control. Catch what?
"And I swear my memories are probably the worst of anyone's," Madrox continues in his cramped-bodied hiss, his arms folding tighter. He's not going to catch anything. "So this is all right and this is fine."
"It's /everywhere/," Jubilee breathes, spinning around and popping up to her feet. It is no longer just her hands that glow. Energy has rushed to the surface halfway up her arms, burning faster and hotter.
Madrox stops his litany for long enough to give Jubilee a more direct glance, drawn by the flash of heat which is - staying sustained, "Jubilee?"
Plasma travels in arcs of electrical-like currents. Jubilee spurs to action, pacing the perimeter of the cell and snaking her hand through the patch of hair that escaped shaving. "Gotta hold it. Gotta hold it all. Can't let it get away," she murmurs to herself.
"It's going to get away," Madrox informs her from his wall, even as he unfolds to a certain partial degree.
"NO!" Jubilee holds herself up straight, caught in the trap of her own uncertain paranoia and leans back as her hands come up and the energy snaking up her arms coalesce into a single sheet of energy that flattens and flows as it is released in Jamie's direction.
"Well," Jamie starts, an abortive attempt at speaking as well as an abortive attempt at dodging. It's half hearted at best. The next minute is just ash and smear, splattered bits of bone, skin and muscle meat. Some of it remains in a roughly human shape before it falls.
The voice mutters, "That wasn't quite what I was going for."
Jubilee bangs heavily into the wall behind her, her body betraying the drug-induced agitation. "No, no, not away. Never away," she whispers on a hysteria-tinged laugh.
"Results," the voice says dryly. "Subject goes on murderous, psychotic rampage. It doesn't take much, does it?" the voice remarks to someone unseen.
The dupe is too seared to bleed much. That will do wonders for clean-up.
Somewhere, perhaps, deep inside, Jubilee registers the words. Perhaps. It's hard to tell though as she's drug under the combined forces of glucose depletion and drug dosing.
Back at the Xavier Mansion, Prime lets out a shriek of reaction, as much /frustration/ as mental pain.
Um. Oops? |
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