12643/The (Cat)Gorilla in the room

The (Cat)Gorilla in the room
Date of Scene:	13 January 2021
Location:	Hank's Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis:	Beast gets a kick in the rump over his self-depreciating guilt regarding his past involvement in the mutant cure.
Cast of Characters:	Beast, Nightingale, Phoenix, Cyclops

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Beast has posed:
Since that fateful phonecall, since the rally and Magneto, only a very privailedged (or perhaps cursed) few have seen Doctor Henry "Hank" McCoy aka The Beast has all but dissapeared from School life. Despite a few hours of heavily destructive sounds and a feral roar coming from his lab not soon after he went into, he went to total silence and has stayed that way.

Piles of wrecked machinery have been swept into, well, piles along the periphery of his lab. New tools and equipment, brought out of storage or kludged together, have been set up in every availble space. Many of them piled on TOP of each other. And at the very center of it all, is a bedraggled looking blue furred scientist perched on the edge of a tall stool, flatscreen holograms orbiting him with detailed numerics and formulai.

To be frank, Hank looks EXHAUSTED. His fur is unkempt making him look like a blue lion that just came out of the brambles. He wears a dirty labcoat with coffee stains and a pair of biker shorts and thats it. His blue, slit eyes have take on a bloodshot quality. There are styrofoam coffe cups and twinkie wrappers strewn around EVERYWHERE as he manicaly works the holographis screans. Sorta like Tony Stark would, but with less AC/DC in the background.

Nightingale has posed:
     There wasn't much she could do to help, but one thing Shannon knew she could do well. She could still cook. So that is exactly what she did, a tray in her arms as she descended to the lower levels of the school. From the covered tray came ooey, gooey, comforting aromas, leaving little doubt as to its contents. She's in a pair of light blue jeans, some old white sneakers, and a plain white t-shirt with two slits in the back, along the upper to mid spine. Her hair is long and loose, save for a pale blue braid dangling to the left side of her face, bedecked with three small silver beads.

     Dr. McCoy had always been kind to her, from her very first day at the school onwards. She was not going to stand idly by any longer, whether or no she'd been called upon. Balancing the tray on one hip, she knocks softly at the door to his lab. "Dr. McCoy? It's Shannon. I brought something if you're hungry."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey knows all too well that sometimes you just need to let out your woes and frustrations in private. Then, there are times when someone needs to barge in and tell you that you're being ridiculous and, "It smells like you haven't showered in a month."

Jean's voice calls out from behind Shannon after coming from the direction of the Danger Room. In fact, she's even in her black tactical uniform. Shannon may be tactfully trying to make peace, but the redheaded woman seems to have no compunctions about scooting past her with a wink and towards where the blue mutant perches. "And no grumping at me. Come on, Hank. You're taking five minutes to blink and eat something that wouln't outlast a nuclear holocaust."

Beast has posed:
Of the trillions of cells that compose our bodies, from neurons that relay signals throughout the brain to immune cells that help defend our bodies from constant external assault, almost every one contains the same 3 billion DNA base pairs that make up the human, and mutant, genome. It is remarkable that each of the over 200 cell types in the body interprets this identical information very differently in order to perform the functions necessary to keep us alive. This demonstrates that scientists need to look beyond the sequence of DNA itself in order to understand how an organism and its cells function.

Or, in this case, how an organism /isn't/ functioning. There is so much data.. a Data OVERLOAD, that even Hank is almost lost. SO lost he doesn't hear the knock at the door at first. But when the faint soun make sit to his forebrain, FINALLY, he suddenly freezes up... and looks over his shoulder at the door. "COmputer.." he rasps, his voice so gravelly he sounds like he smokes two packs of malboros and drank a bottle of wild turkey, "Open the door."

Cyclops has posed:
Heading in behind Jean is one Scott Summers. The field leader is dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a simple henley shirt with a few of the buttons undone. His lips are pressed together firmly in concern as he levels his gaze at the sight of his best friend, then the rest of the lab and it's mess.

"Henry, when was the last time you went to sleep?"

His arms fold over his chest as he lets out a heavy breath, then tilts his head towards the wingless student now with a lift of his brows. "Hello Miss Lance."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Beware students bearing gifts!" Shannon calls out, peering through the door with tray in hand. The Twinkie wrapers and coffee cups tell her all she needs to know, leaving the young woman shaking her head. "Miss Grey is right. Please, will you take a small break to eat something that isn't going to outlast us all?" The nearest table with enough surface area free becomes the repository for the tray in hand, the lid removed from the plate to reveal a healthy helping of freshly made mac 'n cheese, and a bowl of mixed fruit for dessert.

     Unless stopped, she actually pauses, and then leans over to offer Dr. McCoy a hug. Nothing more, nothing less. Just what little support she can give. No words, just... being there. Mr. Summers' greeting is met with a quick up-nod, and a smile. But for Dr. McCoy's sake, she remains quiet.

Phoenix has posed:
There's a soft wiggle of Jean's fingers from the other side of the door as Hank finally seems to notice the growing crowd of onlookers. Her expressions are gentle and maybe a bit knowing, but she lets Scott do most of the talking once they can finally get in the door.

"You know caffeine is just going to give you the jitters anyway. Drink some water and take a break to talk to us while I start working on the mess so that you can think straight." She'll then go about trying to locate the trash can and a cart that's still mobile.

Beast has posed:
His attention returned to his tasks the moment he authorizedthe door to be open, a holographic genome spiraling in the air in fromt of him. Genes unravelling, or being replaced, or even weirder things. Each loop ending with flashing 'SIMULATION FAILURE' each and everytime.

As His friends and student walk in he leans back a bit and massages the bridge of his snout, eyes clenched.

"Sleep is for the Weak, Scott." he rumbles, "And I need something woth more of a kick than plebian water." he tells Jean as he turns around on the stool. He looks at Shannon and there is a flash of anger.. not at her personally. He looks to where her wings were and His claws clench, nails digging into his plam as anger and horrendous guilt mix.. A droplet of blood falls to the floor from his curled digits.

Cyclops has posed:
"Well, right now, your brain is most likely working at the efficiency of oatmeal due to lack of sleep and not eating. Your hygiene is terrible as well. I don't want to order you to take a shower and to take a break, but I will if I need be." Scott says as he glances around the lab, noting the failure message that flashes before them.

"Do you need me to call Josh Foley in to support you as well? He's an omega level healer. Maybe his powers can help you out in some way. But, the situation is growing worse. We've contacted the Avengers now to support us."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon reaches out to curl her fingers around Dr. McCoy's wrist, reaching for the little brown bag at her belt. "May I?" she asks, nodding towards where his claws have begun to dig into his palm. If permitted, she pulls a cleansing wipe and a bandage from her little leather bag, with which to tend to the wound on his hand.

     "I can't even begin to imagine how all this is making you feel," she says quietly. "But you are one of the most brilliant people I know, and if there's anybody that can find a way out of this, it's you. You've supported and believed in a lot of us, now are you willing to let us believe in you, too?"

Phoenix has posed:
"As someone who tried to exist on alcohol, willpower, and denial for a good portion of the past year, I can assure you saying water isn't helpful in this situation is bullshit." Jean says calmly towards Hank as absent gestures of her hand start a marching pink train of coffee cups and wrappers floating towards the dented trash can. All she's missing is the Sorcerer's hat, for all the empath's next words probably hit just as hard as the wizard's sober scowl. "We build heavy crosses for ourselves, Henry, only to realize we can't carry them alone. Flagellating yourself isn't going to give you an answer."

"We should have Josh on hand anyway." Jean adds in a quieter tone to Scott. "We're going into a war with a lot of weaponry. Having him waiting on the sidelines in case isn't a bad idea. Until then, he can help keep Logan stable. ...when he's not trying to *drink himself to death* quicker than usual." By her tone, it sounds like she has some words for the Canadian curmudgeon that she hasn't gotten to voice just yet. "Warren is going to help too. He's going to try a transfusion of his blood and see if it can help."

Beast has posed:
Hank allows Shannon to treat his self inflicted "wound' but he cannot, WILL not, look her in the eyes.. despite her compliments. He feels as guilty as possible about her situation. A situation shared by so many more. All which started with a regretful dream.

Instead he looks to his oldest friend, sniffs a little (out of derisivemness, not his own musk) and grits his teeth. "If my brain is oatmeal, then it is the smartest, most relentless oatmeal of all time." he grunts, then his shoulders sag a bit. "And I do not nead Josh here. I started this. This is MY cross to bear. I can't..." he closes his eyes. "I can't let him see what I helped make.." he says, a bit softer.

To Jean he narrowes his eyes."Don't you dare try that psychological ploy on me, Jean, critiquing my nuthrional intake and expectying my medical knowledge to make me agree with you. Doctors are they're own worst patients." he tells her...

Then he slumps a bit now as she explaons logan and warren and...

"THe chances of that working is low." he says finally, then looks at Shannon again. "This process is not a wound to be healed, though it could lead to side effects that are in the future..."

Cyclops has posed:
"Well, the entire world knows what happened because the attack on Mutant Town is in the news on an International level. There is a public outcry on all sides. I'm going to bring Josh up here. You need help and your pride can be checked at the front door. I most likely will be contacting Tony Stark and Reed Richards as well. The more big brains the better, even if you all scream at each other. I care about the end result, not ego."

Scott is in a no-nonsense manner as he points his finger towards Shannon. "It's my fault for even bringing her on that mission. So I owe it to her to ensure that I explore every avenue. I'm tempted to go out there myself and drag your Doctor friend back by the throat and throw him at Victor until he coughs up a resolution. Now eat, shower and get some rest so that you can attack this at your best."

His brows give a furrow as he folds his arms over his chest.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Would it help if you had a sample of my blood to work from, Dr. McCoy?" asks Shannon, tilting her head slightly to one side. Her hands are deft, the cleansing wipe and bandage put to good use with as little fuss and muss as possible. "I can only guess there's plenty of it to work from pre-Cure, but none post-Cure. Maybe that'd help in getting a better idea of what we're working with here?"

     Mention of the mansion's resident curmudgeon has Shannon smiling, and chuckling softly. "Ooof. That's something I never thought I'd see, was Logan, drunk. Should've seen him at Harry's last night. At least he had the sense to hand over the keys to his bike and ask me to drive him home." Pause. "It was either that or Warren was going to fly him home, and... yeah, no, that idea wasn't taken well."

     The minute Scott starts putting himself down, that gets a very, very dark frown from Shannon. The young woman just looks straight at him, perfectly deadpan for several moments. "That could have been any one of us. Blaming yourself, okay. I get it. Comes with the job. It's your job to make sure we all come home. You did that job. We all made it back alive. But beating yourself up isn't going to help right now." She smiles now, and it doesn't take a telepath to see the pride in her expression. "You trusted and believed in me enough to ask me along. That's something I can't thank you enough for, however it turned out."

Phoenix has posed:
"Low. Not none." Jean points out with the raising of an index finger. "And we've beaten worse odds than that. If I can't lecture you on a doctor taking care of himself, then you can't wave around impossible odds at a woman who was dead. Shannon's right. We're all still here. We're still mutants, and what are mutants made to do? Evolve and adapt. We don't need powers for that. We'll figure this out."

"Because we have to. I've been working in the D.R. in building a simulation based on as much as I can remember from my recon so we can start planning. There's captives in there that we need to get out and potentially treated and there's a lot of mutants out there counting on us. They need us - the X-Men - at our best. No one ever said we were perfect. We make mistakes. But at the end of the day, we still need to be ready to do what we were trained to do, and that's protect those mutants out there who need us. To do that, we need to take care of ourselves."

"So Hank, I say this with love." She says as she walks over towards the good doctor. "If we were angry with you, we wouldn't be here right now. If we blamed you, you wouldn't be here right now. You've had your time to feel sorry for yourself. It's time to pick yourself up and take care of yourself so you can do what you do best. And if you don't, I'm going to light a fire under your ass." She gives her old friend a wide and brilliant smile. "And you do not want *me* lighting a fire there."

Beast has posed:
"I assure you, Scott, it is much less pride than my ego." he tells Scott. "There is a difference. And I know I need help. But needing help from Richards and Stark... This /is/ a mutant problem. I hate saying that. I truly do. But it is a security risk. The more this processess, and those related to this process, are spread to those OUTSIDE mutants the more dangerous things can get on derivative technolgies.. I am trying to keep this inhouse as much as possible."

He finally turns to Shannon as Scott points to her.. and sighs. "YEs.. Yes I could use a sample of your blood.. to find the vectors/he/ used, also to compare it to your earlier medical samples we have on files." he admits, agreeing with her own hypothesis..

To Jean he glares for a few moments but.. it's hard to ne angry at her. Well, no, it's not hard. Sometimes she is nosy but he can never be mad at his sister for long. "Fine, you are right. Low, not none. But in the end I have a feeling that the cure will require a process that..." He finally looks around the group and sighs heavily.

Cyclops has posed:
"Hank, they are sending copters into neighborhoods and shooting crowds with the cure not. This is no longer a secert. Getting Stark and Richards on board would be the best thing to do. Both are heroes like we are and I trust them. Unless you have another mutant genius on loan in the field of biology, we don't have many other choices."

Scott sends a 'look' at Shannon before he turns and starts for the door again, visibly frowning. "I am not beating myself up. I am assigning blame where it is due. I am not exempt from critcism or failure. I will have Josh here in the morning. I'll give you two a few days to figure things out before I reach out to Stark and Richards." Not Banner. That guy is nuts.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Call it what you will, blaming yourself isn't good, either." 'Look' or not from Mr. Summers, Shannon doesn't let it faze her, not one bit. "We've got one thing in common, I think, most of us in here. As hard as anyone could be on any of us, we're at least ten times harder on ourselves."

     A glance is given to him and to Miss Grey, her smile widening just a touch. "It's not going to take away that you trusted and believed in everyone you had along. You really don't realize how much that can mean. And I know I can trust you, and Dr. McCoy, Miss Grey, and everyone here to find a way out of this thing."

     Reaching down for a stool nearby that was tipped over in the Hank-pocalypse of a few days past, she rights it and perches her posterior atop it. One arm is extended within Dr. McCoy's reach without a second thought, the young mutant smiling at him. "Do what you have to do. I trust you." Pause. "What process do you mean?"

Phoenix has posed:
"And if this doesn't stay a mutant problem? That's what happens when hate finds a way. No one stops at trying to fix just 'one problem'. Ever." Jean says gravely as she steps away in the direction Scott goes. "Mutants today. Metahumans tomorrow. Superman the day after that. Maybe even the gods."

"Trust isn't easy. I don't like showing weakness. But... if we can't try to trust the others who say they're here to protect this world and the people on it, then what hope is there that anything turns out okay? If the protectors of this world can't stand together, then we're no better than what we're fighting against. Mutants are the target, but this goes deeper. Besides, when we're breaking down their doors, it'll help having some allies who are immune to those darts. They may be the only chance we have of making it out while the rest of you figure out the counter-cure."

She tilts her head then as she furrows her brow, seeming to almost be listening to something before she says, "This is an arm's race. Not entirely natural, but, it's what She said when I asked her if She and I could fix this. Predator and prey adapting to overcome the other. One grows teeth, one becomes faster. One develops guns, one develops shields. One adapts to conflict, or it dies. That's the way of life. Maybe... instead of trying to undo what was done, help the mutations adapt to overcome it." There's a faint, helpless shrug from the woman before she departs with a last, "But, I'm no doctor. Eat, please, and go clean up. Hot water does wonders. I always get my best ideas in the shower."

Beast has posed:
"I assure you, Scott, it is much less pride than my ego." he tells Scott. "There is a difference. And I know I need help. But needing help from Richards and Stark... This /is/ a mutant problem. I hate saying that. I truly do. But it is a security risk. The more this processess, and those related to this process, are spread to those OUTSIDE mutants the more dangerous things can get on derivative technolgies.. I am trying to keep this inhouse as much as possible."

He finally turns to Shannon as Scott points to her.. and sighs. "YEs.. Yes I could use a sample of your blood.. to find the vectors/he/ used, also to compare it to your earlier medical samples we have on files." he admits, agreeing with her own hypothesis..

To Jean he glares for a few moments but.. it's hard to ne angry at her. Well, no, it's not hard. Sometimes she is nosy but he can never be mad at his sister for long. "Fine, you are right. Low, not none. But in the end I have a feeling that the cure will require a process that..." He finally looks around the group and sighs heavily.

Turning to shannon he purses his lips, then nods. "You are right, trust is not easy. That is where Trust and Verify applies. I am not saying to NOT let them help, but we have to control what KIND of help they can supply. Like you said, this /is/ an arms race.. and sometimes you have arms races even among allies." he points out.

Nightingale has posed:
     "I can kind of get what you're saying, Dr. McCoy," Shannon offers, with a wry smile on her face. "Remember when I mentioned possibly working with you to compile something of a database of medical issues unique to mutants, so hospitals could be better prepared with the increase of mutant patients lately? I had a lot of thoughts similar to what you're talking about now. It's why I haven't done anything about it yet, or asked you about it again."

     Leaving her arm extended so that the sample could be taken, she pauses, tilting her head to one side. "Something like that could be useful. It could let doctors have the proper treatments necessary. But it could be so easily twisted into something much worse than ever intended. The big question is, do we let that stop us from trying to find things that can help others? When you were talking about the Cure at that rally, you spoke about it being meant as a choice for those who would otherwise come to harm from their gifts. You are not the one that turned it into a weapon. Others did that. Not you. But... I can understand at least a little bit, where you're coming from."