13161/A meeting in Hank's 'office'

A meeting in Hank's 'office'
Date of Scene:	01 May 2021
Location:	Hank's Lab - X-Men Base
Synopsis:	Speaking with Shannon and Jeremy, Beast proposes a reinvention of Blue Team
Cast of Characters:	Beast, Nightingale, SpyderByte

---

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy sent out a junior classman runner earlier in the day, to find individuals that he wanted to have a chat with. The time was a little loose, mostly 'after you're done your classes for the day' which could mean anywhere up to insane-o-clock in the morning. The only odd thing about the message, was to come meet in his lab. THat might have taken a little bit to find, because well, it's down in the depths. Or it might not, because: reasons.

Sat at one of the computer banks with a lab coat on over a plain white T-shirt and jeans, Hank is leaning on his elbow, reading over field reports. Recent field reports, honestly.

Nightingale has posed:
     Most of Shannon's classes were done by mid-afternoon, which often left her plenty of time for studying, exploring Salem Center, napping in her Dorm, or sometimes even popping by Club Evolution early to help out with sound checks. Sometimes even a bit of archery practice in the Danger Room of late, if she was lucky enough to find a sliver of time when it wasn't occupied. By the time the message got to her, she was in her dorm, pinning her hair up after a nice, long shower, and pouring out some hot water into a large travel mug for some tea. Her eyebrows shot way up almost immediately--it was incredibly rare for any of the teachers to call her after-hours like this.

     So she dressed quickly, in a pair of denim leggings, long white t-shirt with 'Mutie Cutie' emblazoned on the front in hot pink with silver and gold accents, and a pair of sneakers. With her hair up, and her travel mug in hand, she heads for the lower levels, arriving at the door to Dr. McCoy's Lab. A quick knock on the door heralds her arrival, though she waits patiently outside. What on earth could be up?

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy glances up at the door and smiles, toothily. "Shannon! Come in, come in... take a seat," he waves at the myriad of options there, including sitting down on the edge of a bed, if desired and pulls up the final details of the mission she had accompanied the 'team B' on. "So... I just wanted to do two things to start with: First off, commend you for your quick action and heads-up regarding Warren and two:--" here he looks at her over the tops of his spectacles "--to inquire when you've been sneakily practicing field triage skills. You did a bang up job on most of it."

Nightingale has posed:
     At that, Shannon's face goes bright red, but she can't quite hide the smile that curls up the corners of her mouth. Nor can she help the way her wings flare out ever so slightly, feathers ruffling up like a peacock showing off its colors. "There's been no sneaking about it, Dr. McCoy," she begins. "One, there was a particular Danger Room session last January that's stuck in my head ever since which was a big help. Two, I'm also studying to take my EMT exam this summer, to rely on my healing gifts in more of a triage capacity rather than fully healing someone else. Three... well..." She grins a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "It won't be the first time I've had to help out in the field. I believe Mr. Barton could tell a bit of a tale there."

     Taking a cautious sip of her tea, she lets out a soft little sigh, closing her eyes and just enjoying the strong brew for a moment. "I also couldn't have done it alone. Colossus was a big help in helping improvise a backboard for Warren, because I'm sorry, but the way I saw him smack head-first into that wall, there was no way it was worth it to take any chances moving him without one. Alice did a good job helping to improvise some bindings and a way to help keep his head and neck stable. And my bo staff made a good improvised splint for Warren's wing. So it wasn't just me, sir, they deserve just as much if not more credit."

Beast has posed:
"Maybe so, but I suspect you directed what was needed, to get the teamwork going. What was your impression of that mission, by the by? Be completely honest, even if you have negative things to say -- and I mean about yourself, the situation -and- your team-mates," Hank tucks a stylus behind his pointed ear then and rolls off his seat to go pour himself a coffee out of a karafe on hand. The blend smells like it's a Ragin' Cajun's favourite - he also proffers a tea-cake on a little platter. Several are missing, because: Beast, but there's quite a number left.

He then makes a few notes with the stylus as he returns to his podium, typing quick as you like with the practiced hand of a man that has had to train his digits to keep up with his brain.

Nightingale has posed:
     "A lot of it was pretty chaotic, once the pitchforks and torches got started," Shannon replies, reaching for one of the tea cakes and raising it in a bit of a toast. "I don't know if it's a normal thing on a lot of missions, but once that got started, I just tried to focus on my part as eyes in the sky and keeping myself in one piece in case the rest of the team needed first aid. I know they've all trained hard, and they're the best at what they do. But you care, and you worry for them. And it's... hard to put that worry aside. But you have to."

     She's turning the little tea-cake over in her hand as she speaks, and finally makes short work of the sweet treat, letting that silence her for a few moments while it is sent on its way to her digestive system. "I still want to stay on and help if I can when all is said and done, but I know I'll need a lot more training in that kind of situation, and practical experience where necessary. Because whether I'm allowed to stay and help here, or serve out there as a first responder, I can't afford to panic."

     Looking up, she dabs a few crumbs away from the corners of her mouth, and has a bit of her tea. "From what I saw, the rest of the team did well enough, though as much as I like Warren... those were pretty wide sprays of gunfire, and maybe it was a little foolish to go flying head-first into them like that, although in his defense, those lights had to be put out somehow and there weren't a lot of options. He's a very skilled flyer, though. Perhaps Lady Luck just wasn't on his side? The rest of the team, they were doing very well. I have to admire the way Colossus did his best to avoid violence even when provoked. That takes a lot of fortitude. And everyone pulled together when it came to getting Warren out of there."

     At that, she grins a bit sheepishly. "I don't mind admitting, though, I needed a new pair of pants when I got home."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy chuckles at that last. "The aftermath when Warren woke up was interesting, I have to say. And it's part of what got me thinking on this particular train of thought that I'm on. Scott didn't want any more students in the field, but frankly I actually disagree with that. His rationale is sound, that he doesn't want to make more soldiers in this war. But there are different ways to battle the situations we face than strictly with fists. Good assessment, Shannon. I think you have a perceptive grasp on situations you face, which suggests to me that you have an exceptional situational and spacial awareness, as well as a the true mindset of a first responder in a field hospital situation. As an EMT trainee, you'll get controlled chaos; situations you know your protocols for, but often a good amount of equipment to help you out with it..."

He thinks a few minutes, which tick by rather slow because it surely looks like he's having a massive conversation on the inside of his skull, but eventually: "I would like to help you train in emergency field medicine. Where you want a tracheotomy tube, but all you have is a ball point pen and an exact knife, with some duct tape. Of course, I'll programme various scenarios into the Danger room for this sort of thing, but I'll set you little mock exams, with a dummy and a bunch of random equipment on hand for practicals, too."

THen he fixes attention on her with a smile, his expression warm. "I'm going to put forward the re-formation of a trained team to the school board and I'd like you to be a part of it. I don't want mighty fists, I want clever brains."

Nightingale has posed:
     "That's fine by me. I know my fists aren't mighty. Just enough to defend myself and my patient enough to get to safety... wait, wha....?" For once, the usually loquacious winged teen was struck to silence, her brows lofting. Had she heard him right? "I'm not sure I'm understanding you correctly on this one. There's already the New Mutants. What team could you mean?"

     She grimaces a little bit, and nods slowly. "I can't blame Mr. Summers for not wanting us students out there again. Not after the way that went south so fast. To be honest, in his shoes I'd make a similar call. But that doesn't stop us from wanting to help. For example..." Her lips curl upwards in almost a sly little smile, and she hums a snatch of unfamiliar melody. "The pen can be mightier than the sword."

     The prospect of mock exams and further training has her fairly grinning at the challenge, her wings soon flaring out to their full span as if she were ready to fly right into it. "That would be perfect. Anything would help. And I don't plan on stopping at EMT, either. I've plans to go on to med school. Just... ugh, I don't know which ones to consider. Have you got any thoughts there?"

Beast has posed:
"Harvard or John Hopkins for sheer respect in the community, but truthfully you can get a good education in any program, depending on what put into it. Some graduates from the very top, don't know their way around a simple bandage, but they could diagnose a Occular star glioma blindfolded. So your mileage may vary," inclining his head to the side and shrugging at the same time, is very visually compelling. "I went to Harvard, and then a whole lot of other schools, half of which were by correspondence. It easily becomes a life-long passion, I'll note."

That said, he leans back in his chair, smiling a little lopsidedly. "You heard me right. I know that look rather well though. Yes, there's already the new mutants but they're not a scalpel, they're a multifunctional toolbox and they have their own training protocols. I'd be proposing Blue team. /My/ team. And I want people that I can put into the field that know the meaning of subtle and how to gather information and assessments in a variety of ways. I intend to speak to Jeremy and Rosie, also, as I can see their potential for being strategic in a different way."

He has to chuckle though at the happy wings. "I'm glad you're happy about me sticking your brain in extra curricular activities. It warms the cockles and muscles of my heart."

Nightingale has posed:
     "So that's one big blue vote in favor of Harvard," Shannon replies, grinning. "Hey, I get it. You've got to rep your alma mater. I'm kind of curious how you managed the practical parts of the curriculum, the sorts of things you normally wouldn't do by correspondence. What about when it came time for residency and all that?"

     It looked as if she was about to pepper Dr. McCoy with still more questions, her mind going a mile a minute, but she stops to listen to the concept of the Blue team, sipping her tea all the while. Her wings slowly fold back up behind her, coming to rest flat against her back with a quick little ruffle and a flick. "Having seen Jeremy at work, I'd be inclined to agree with you there. I'm less familiar with Rosie's gifts. Haven't had as much contact with her. But you know what you're about, so that works for me."

     Her smile returns, and her wings ruffle just a little bit, echoing the low, rumbling chuckle of the furry blue doc. "Looking forward to it, really. That'll be some practical stuff that may actually do someone some good one day along the road." Her smile fades a little bit, though, and she sighs. "Maybe not soon enough to help that kid we were all out there to find, though. I wish I could be out there to help him, but that's not an option this time. Maybe I could put together a little welcome basket for the kid or something. A small comfort in a stressful situation could be a blessing, too."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy nods, with a wink. "I had the help of an image inducer several times and residency was a challenge. Worthwhile, but... I wasn't always blue and furry though. That I did to myself. I used to just look mostly normal, with oversized hands and feet -- I've come to be quite proud of looking as I do though, it forces a juxtaposition of consciousness and conscience to face a diplomat and advocate that looks like I do. My work often has to talk for me, until people get over it and it's telling, the ones that do and the ones that do not."

His expression gets a little more sober though, at the mention of the kid and he glances up at one of the monitors, haze going distant as he looks through the screen and fixes on a point in middle-space. Eventually, there's a sigh. "First manifestation is always stressful, but that young man has it worse than many. I would've been shelved on Scott's search and collect team, if not for the fact I probably know the most about him, just from reading the scene of his manifesting and sequencing the events. He will be troublesome to treat, also... so I may make this your first challenge: We will be dealing with the treatment and rehabilitation of a youth that is a dendromorph and a dendrokinetic, largely uncontrolled. He does not have blood, but a rich sap. He was injured in his manifestation, became very angry -- domestic violence of father to son, likely with his mother doing very little to help but in his anger, he impaled his father on his own branches, and his mother with blunt force and impaling trauma and catalyzed the beams of his house to remember that they were once pines -- they grew, distorted and killed his siblings in their beds. He fled into the badlands."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Oh man. I heard it was a really rough situation, but I had no idea just how rough." Shannon's voice has gone really quiet and sober, and even her wings start drooping, as if weeping in sympathy for the young man. "Had his mother and siblings also been unaccepting of his manifestation?" She worries her lower lip, cradling her travel mug between her hands, looking down at the wisps of steam wafting upwards from the top of the vessel. "So he experienced violence from his father, his mother did nothing to help... most people, I could imagine that would have them feeling abandoned. Alone. Betrayed by the very ones who were supposed to care the most."

Beast has posed:
"Oh, I think you misunderstand me a little, it's much worse than that. That suggests an actual period of acceptance--" Beast replies to that, frowning a moment then flying fingers over his keyboard, glancing up at one of the screens and going all 'angelatron' on one of them. A 3-d grid house manifests there, along with two figures in bed upstairs, a woman on a couch in the living room, a man sitting next to her and a figure at the front door, about to come in. He then hits enter on the simple scenario.

The figure at the door comes in, begins to head to the stairs, the man on the couch stands up and storms out into the hallway, leaving the door open. Silent hand gestures that suggest sullen teen and violent parent are made, then the father figure strikes the teen and it literally happens in a few moments, as the mother figure leans forward just a little perhaps to call to her husband or to begin rising, but spikes grow out of the teen, impaling father on thorny outgrowths, a root like extension shoots out as a defense mechanism as arm is raised and impales/hurls mother into the couch. She never moved further and the scenario has her slumping where she sat, the father on the ground in a heap. No more than a second or two after this, the house shape buckles from the epicenter of the teen, bulging and lashing and causing a ceiling collapse and support beam spike-out on the upper floor. The kid runs up the stairs, likely in shock, dripping little 'dots' all the way, briefly goes into the bathroom, where smears are left... likely staring at himself in the mirror and then flees through his bedroom window, looking like a slightly greater than human sized tree were-being thing.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon is struck to utter and complete silence as she watches the scenario play out, mist welling up in her pale azure eyes. A few crystalline droplets trickle down her face, her wings drooping further. "So there was this to start. Add to that the reactions of his community, going by the torches and pitchforks we saw on the mission. He's still running scared. How recently did this happen? I can't imagine it was very long. Mr. Summers and Miss Grey would never delay getting to someone out there who needed help, not if there's anything they can do about it."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy details the timeline, which is a little squiffy, because of the wonders of scheduling of these things. "As with so many things, our abilities are so often tied to our emotions. I think I'm possibly one of the only people that could attempt to explain to the kid what happened to him, but-- I rather wish we had a projective empath in our midst, but..." he shrugs, really only Dani Moonstar has any actual empathic skill at the current time.
    He looks over at her droopiness and misty eyes. "Reality bites, far more often than it has any right to, I think. Also why I want to create this time," this said softly "because dignity and respect can also help in damage control and make for a positive change. PR helps."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Yeah, reality bites. But we're here now. How do you even begin reaching out to someone in that rough of a situation?" For once, the winged teen seemed at something of a loss, though she does not balk from the challenge. "This is way beyond a welcome basket. How do you plan on reaching out to him, and how can I help you?"

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy exhales long, letting his lips raspberry at the end, eyes widening with brows lifting then sagging back to normal. "I'll be a monkey's uncle if I know. Honestly, it'll all depend on the kid's mindset /and/ his general personality. It's hard to formulate a care plan, without knowing certain things. Hopefully, Jean will be able to use Cerebro to locate him and may get a bit of a read for him at the time. Honestly, though? Being yourself may well just be what's needed. Baked goods. A cup of tea, perhaps and a feeling of being comfortable with the abnormal."

Nightingale has posed:
     "That's just it, though," Shannon replies. "I don't see these things as abnormal. Sure, each gift is different, but that's what's so awesome about it. Someone Up There isn't quite done being creative with us just yet, and that's pretty incredible." She smiles a little bit, gesuring towards the display that showed the fate of the young man's family and house. "We're seeing what fear is doing to his gifts. Imagine if he could learn to see them in a more positive way. You said he made the pine in his house remember that they were once trees. Imagine what that could do to help revitalize an ecologically devestated area, were he to turn his gifts to that end."

Beast has posed:
"Indeed. But initially, he is likely going to consider himself a freak. Very few of us manifest our talents in a sublime and graceful way -- with hope, he will come around. But your attitude will likely help." Hank runs both his hands over his hair, scruffling it a bit and making it go all cow-lick. He glances up at the screen. "It's going to take him some work to come to terms with that, too. My goodness gracious."
    He hops up then, clearing the scenario from the screens with a button click and grabbing another tea-cake and his coffee. "I have to behave myself these days and -not- poke at my own potential. I do bad things."

SpyderByte has posed:
The doors to the lab swish open as Jeremy is revealed, lurching his way in curiously. He is dressed in all black as always his thick hair hanging down to his shoulders now and painted fresh dark. As he looks at Shannon, then Beast, he gives his phone a squeeze in his hands.

<< Did you need me? >>

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods, and lets out a somewhat heavy sigh, the whuff of air from her lips flicking aside a stray wisp of hair that has escaped that gathered at the back of her head. That little wisp of pale gold flops right back down between her eyes, unrepentant, making her go rather comically cross-eyed trying to look at it. "Acceptance has to start somewhere. Guess it can start right here. Hopefully, he'll be able to learn to accept himself as well."

     Just then, she hears the familiar shuffle-lurch of Jeremy entering, turning about with her travel mug between her hands to smile lightly at him. "Hey, Jer. C'mon and take a load off. Looks like we've got our hands full on this one."

Beast has posed:
"Ah! Yes, Jeremy! PLease, come in. There's tea cakes, but I've been at them and coffee in the carafe, if you're keen--" Beast sits himself on the edge of one of his medbeds, sipping his own black joe with a slurp and an appreciative grimace of the bitter brew. "Ahh, that's the ticket! Right!" He waits until the goth technomancer settles himself as much as he ever does and gives him a friendly smile. "I wanted to talk to you and Rosie, about the formation of a new team, based around a non-conventional approach to tactics. We have enough teams that can thwack, I want to work with a young group that thinks instead." He pauses, peering briefly at the door. "Is Rosie alright?"

SpyderByte has posed:
<< Yes, Rosie is alright. She is not authorized to be in this area because she is not a New Mutant, nor is she briefed on the lower levels. She said she was going to take a shower and then take a nap though when I left her. >>

Jeremy settles down into a chair and folds his hands in front of him around his phone. His head tilts to one side as he glances to Shannon, then back to him. He furrows his brows a bit.

<< A thinking team? >>

Nightingale has posed:
     "Mhm. A thinking team. Dr. McCoy had an interesting way of describing his idea," Shannon replies to Jeremy. "Something about a scalpel, versus a multitool? It sounded better coming from him. Might mean extra training in our areas of strength, but the way he was describing it, heck, I'm game. But I'll let him do the talking." She reaches for one of the tea-cakes and smiles, offering it to Jeremy.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy nods. His hair by the way is definitely settling on mad scientist cow-lick at the moment. "I came to consideration you see, of what I generally provide to a team scenario. My talents are helpful, but ninety percent of what I do is provide my brain. I'm not the fastest, not the strongest, I am not psychic and I cannot concuss people at range, with the exception of beaning things at people with physics on my side. A thing that by the by, is quite satisfying when it works." He grins.

"Shannon here, has some exceptional critical thinking skills with field triage and she is excedingly observant. Her talents are diverse in compliment to her ability, but she is not strong. She is clever. You, my dear Jeremy are similar -- skilled in ways that don't lend themselves to face to face combat, but your gifts make you invaluable in situations where direct confrontation is inadvisable. Additional classes in a variety of doctrines may help broaden your skillbase, but... in situations were information gathering, observation and subtlety are prized over brute force? I would like to train you, Rosie and Shannon here, on /different/ scenarios than classic Danger room protocols. Because sometimes? We definitely need people that have had that kind of experience, supporting the thermonuclear devices, gods, goddesses and tanks."

SpyderByte has posed:
As he listens, Jeremy gives another slight glance towards Shannon as Hank lists off her credentials. He has an impassive look upon his face, void of emotion as he slowly blinks. He gives another squeeze of his phone between his hand before he turns his attention back towards the Doctor.

He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly as he gives a glance down towards the screen on his phone.

<< I am interested. >>

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods as she listens to Dr. McCoy, blushing a little bit as her credentials are rattled off. She's quick to brush those aside, adding, "It's pretty incredible when Jer goes to work. Sometimes you don't even know he has till it's already done. Pretty impressive stuff."

     Coughing lightly, she sets her mug down on a nearby table, and slips her phone from her pocket, tapping lightly on the screen for a second when Dr. McCoy might not be looking. <<Do you think he ever figured out it was the New Mutants who helped with that bank robbery?>>

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy nods to them both and yes, he catches the blushing, the impassive expression that belies a lot going on under the surface and do you really think he missed the texting? Sleight of hand! Sleight of hand! When Shannon looks up, she'll catch his eye on her with a hint of amusement in sparkly, slitted blues.

"Right then Jeremy. I would like you to do some extra curricular studies of Architechture. You can probably get your phone to supply building schematics from city hall and various other places pretty quickly. The reason being, your talent talks to the technology, but I'd like you to know where your blind spots are going to be, particularly in classical construction, as opposed to modern, which tends to be wired in."

SpyderByte has posed:
Being that Jeremy's phone is on silent, the text he receives doesn't ping. He doesn't even need to look at the screen to read it, or even respond. The message is returned: 'I created an AAR that very night.'

<< Okay. >>

It seems he is either agreeable or not the type to protest. It's hard to tell with that brick wall poker face he wears with the sunken eyes and the slack features.

<< Do you have a specific time period for me to reference and our particular area? New York City has gone through multiple stages of gentrification and thus even older construction has been enhanced for more modern residents. Do you wish for me to learn the basics of foundations and structure support? >>

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon just looks right back at Dr. McCoy, not flinching once as blue meets blue, with equal levels of amusement and innocence all at once. "Any extracurricular you want me working on in the meantime, or will that be later?" she asks, finally glancing back down at her phone and then slipping it back into her pocket. Her wings ruffle and flutter behind her, finally settling flat against her back with a little flick. Is there a halo above her head? No, surely it must be pure imagination! She would -never- stoop to sleight of hand!

Beast has posed:
"What, other than the practicums with odd equipment?" Beast replies to Shannon, he gives her a peer over the top of his spectacles with it and rolls his tongue into his cheek, sniffing to punctuate the gesture, shifting his gaze to Jeremy.

"Basics yes, because it never hurts to have extra knowledge outside of your sphere of true expertise. And yes, begin with the melting pot of New York. Even gentrification cannot accomplish everything in a structure never designed with the modern world in mind. I remember a stay in a turn of te century hotel off 5th avenue... I don't think it survived the battle of new york though." He muses on that, tapping at his chin. "There were wifi blind spots all over the place and I came across old gas fittings. Anyway..." he focuses again. "Basic understanding should work for now."

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon nods, and smiles, picking up her mug and another tea-cake. "Whoever made these, I oughta get together with them and pick their brains for the recipe. These are so flipping -good-!" Her mood has definitely picked up from her more usual reserved, if amiable self, her wings ruffling and flaring out once more with no small amount of pride. "Right, so, business as usual. Keep with my usual studies and training, and we'll get together soon for some of those oddball equipment scenarios you mentioned."

     The trio that had been picked might not be physically the strongest, but who knows--together, they just might be the scalpel that was needed, at the right moment.