1588/Log

Log
Date of Scene:	21 July 2017
Location:	Classified Location, New York City
Synopsis:	SHIELD hires Gambit for a job. Priss is brought in to help with the preparations.
Cast of Characters:	Gambit, Black Widow (Romanoff), Voodoo

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Gambit has posed:
"Alright ladies, Ah'm here, now Ah hope dis ain' about all mah parkin' tickets." Remy says teasingly as he steps into the small sterile looking doctors office as he sits down in his gown and nothing else.

"Or do ya wan' me t' turn mah head an' cough?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha glances up from the computer she was using. The lab is pretty non-descript but there are quite a few people running around. There are two beds. One, Remy is sitting upon. The other is empty. "Our third party should be here any moment and we can get down to business." The invitation had been sent to a certain telepath, asking for her assistance. They have yet to explain everything fully to either one. In truth, Remy is being awful obliging stripping down to a gown when he doesn't have a clue what's going on yet.

Voodoo has posed:
It's perhaps five minutes later that the door hisses open to admit a young woman with astounding curves encased in a daring skintight affair of purple and gold. Her head is, at the moment, encased in a black bag. Because, see, she's not supposed to know where she is. Her hands are free, but are in front of her where they can be seen clearly. No weapons, not even a belt. And she's being escorted by two SHIELD agents.

"OK. This room is chillier than the hallway. Are we staying here a while?" comes a husky, whiskey-soaked voice with a strong trace of the bayou to it. The woman beneath that hood blinks rapidly and half-closes her eyes as it is whipped off, her glistening black mane flying wildly around her head before settling - with a sharp exhale - to surround her face without covering it. Her skintone and features make it clear she is of mixed race, mulatto at least, perhaps with elements of hispanic as well. Purple eyes glance from the half-dressed man to the redheaded woman. "I'll take the removal of the hood as a yes. And the lack of rubber hoses, whips and chains as a good thing. So ... what's up?"

Gambit has posed:
"I suppose dis is de bidness you was referrin' to, Red?" Remy asks, his ruby and black eyes lingering on Priss for a moment before he looks over at the second table and raises a single eyebrow. "I 'eard you SHIELD types were kinky, but Ah t'ink if de tables were closer togeder it'd be bettah fo' everyone?"

Remy stays seated with a chill running up his spine from the cold table on his backside and he shrugs, waiting to see what Natasha or Priss or her handlers do next.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
How does she end up in these types of situations. "Thank you for joining us, Miss Kitaen. I am sorry for the necessity of secrecy but this facility has to remain unknown." She continues typing on the keys then walks over to to a spot between the pair. "Mr. LeBeau, this is a necessary step in regards to the assignment we asked of you. We know you have responsibilities in your life and thus, you cannot simply disappear to do our bidding. So we will be creating another you."

She waves to a technician. He leaves the room then returns with a gurney. Atop it is a body covered in a sheet. This is pushed over between the two medical beds.

"Miss Kitaen, what are asking of you is more complicated. We wish you to copy Mr. LeBeau's mind into this." She pulls the sheet off the body. Beneath is Remy. Well, a perfect copy of Remy. He lays there looking like he's asleep. "This is a Life Mode Deooy but we need more than the usual programming. Mr. LeBeau works with many strong telepaths so his mind has to be in this machine, while obviously being in his real form. Is this something you can do?"

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla eyes the redhead curiously, waiting as patiently as an almost-kidnapped woman can for the other piece of footwear to drop. And then ... naked roboRemy. Not bad.

"You do realize that despite the wet dreams of most computer geeks, you can't just copy a brain like a hard drive, right?" Priss questions. They do get how hard this would be, don't they?

"I ... I might be able to do it. It's not something I've ever done before. But given I can yank a possessing spirit, mind or force out of someone and shove it back into where it belongs ... it's possible. I could at least try." Hey, A for effort, right?

Priscilla glances over at Remy. "It won't be fast. And you should know, going in: if this works like my exorcisms, it's going to hurt. //A lot//." Hey. Caveats are important. She doesn't want her deal to die just because this bit of tasty gumbo chickens out.

Gambit has posed:
"Ah'm 'ere on de table, ain' Ah?" Remy asks, looking between Natasha and Priss with a playful smirk on his scruffy face. "As long as you know Ah'll 'urt you as much as you 'urt me." He winks and lays down on the table and then looks over at himself for the first time. Or his copy and visibly shudders. "Coulda made 'im less pretty, Red, or were ya t'inkin' of doin' some unspeakables with me o' 'im when we're t'rough?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"He is an exact copy of you, Mr. LeBeau. So if you think he's pretty," Natasha can't help smirking. "Well, I could mention Narcissus but that'd be impolite." Then she continues more briskly. "I already took care of the programming side but the rest is going to be up to you, Miss. Kitaen. I don't know if you need antyhing in particular or simply the space to work. You tell us what you need, we will provide it."

With that, Natasha leaves this in the hands of the telepathic professionals.

Voodoo has posed:
"I recommend that Mr. LeBeau lay down." Priscilla offers. "And if he tries to hurt me for doing what you asked ... well, I trust you to dissuade him." SHe's figuring he was being a smarta$$, he seems the type.

Priss prepares carefully. She asks for some things to be brought in: candles, a small iron cauldron, herbs and other mixes. It'll seem weird to those used to the more 'professional' or 'scientific' telepaths, but Voodoo is as much magicienne as she is psionic.

In the end, it's a long ritual. Priss works hard to get Remy into the right neutral frame of mind, so that the landscape of his thoughts is as close to the cool emptiness of a machine as possible.

And then ... well.

Then begins the pain.

It's a blue-white agony that courses through the mind, sets the thoughts aflame, sears the senses and incinerates the nervous system. Thank goodness that as intensely real as it all seems, there's no actual permanent damage done. The whole process takes several hours, but it likely feels like a week or two of torture. Thankfully, Remy probably passes out halfway through.

One caveat: the LMD will probably turn on / wake up screaming, experiencing that agony until it fades.

Gambit has posed:
Remy is doubly unconscious after the pain of having his mind mystically copied and pasted into an empty robody. Though after a time, the sythesized Remy comes to and slowly takes a moment to calibrate, the red and black eyes blinking out of unison for a time before the mind is activated and he bellows like a banshee.

Loud

Fierce

Afraid

Remy II slowly falls back to the bed and starts convulsing and shaking until a ward with a syringe appears and sedates the android.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Natasha has been there the entire time. She has stood by and offered what assistance she can. Help for the woman. Comfort for the man through the pain. They tried to help through medication but it wasn't physical. All she could do was try to hold his hand if it helped or leave him be if he needed distance.

She hadn't realized it would be so brutal. This better be worth it or she'd be having words with the Director for suggesting such a thing.

As the LMD is sedated, Natasha moves between the Priss and Remy, waiting for the latter to awaken. The real one, that is.

"Thank you," she says to Priss in a soft voice. "I know that had to be difficult. We will take care of those paper for you within the next 24 hours."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla is exhausted, visibly, and definitely almost as weakened as Remy himself; she is an empath, which means she felt every iota of all of that pain, from both Remys. Hence, she is wrung out, frankly just about loopy. Still, she nods to acknowledge Natasha's words. "Thanks. Do you need me to help anymore? Or should we leave them as they are?"

Assuming everything is done, Priscilla cleans up - she puts out her own candles, throws away her own trash, wipes down tables and such - and then she picks up the black bag and offers it to the guards as they return. Time for her to go. "Good luck on the mission." she offers through the hood.

Gambit has posed:
Remy slowly comes to and lifts a hand to his head. "Got any asprin doc?" He says to no one in particular but swings his legs over the side of the bed and groans his pain. "I would ask 'ho de girl was, but I t'ink even you don' know." Remy says with a small smirk before looking up to Natasha's eyes and squints. "Let's get t' work mon ami."