Log: Hank and Ororo Who: Hank McCoy and Ororo Munroe When: Morning, December 23 (backdated) Where: Hank's bedroom What: Hank is out of the medlab thanks to Elvyran's help but he's still feeling pretty awful and Ororo has come to see him in order to show him how FULL OF RAGE she is about the whole situation.
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Hank honestly didn't remember all that much. He remembered being attacked, being overwhelmed. He remembered pain and the smell of his own fur burning, and then he remembered voices and concern and... that was it. All of his years walking around Salem Center as a blue mutant and he'd never been attacked, and now it seemed that the Friends of Humanity were starting to target residents of the school. That was his assumption, at least, when he had the time or the coherence to think about it.
He'd spent the last two days in the medlab, under enough sedatives to probably kill a horse, while Elvyran worked to heal his wounds. He didn't know how Elvyran was back from the dead, but to be honest, Hank hadn't done too much thinking about it recently----he was simply thankful for his presence. Deep wounds had healed to severe bruises, painful but not life-threatening. Burns had healed over to become tender, fresh skin that was overly sensitive, but most of the blackened, dead skin had fallen off. The only trouble was, it wasn't as if Elvyran could regrow fur. That wasn't a necessary thing, and while he might have been able to heal damaged follicles to make sure his fur did indeed grow back, he couldn't speed that growth.
He might have hated the shedding and might have been embarrassed from time to time about his furry appearance, the fact of the matter was he'd grown quite used to his fur over the last ten years. It wasn't all gone. Some of it was still there, but some of the fur on his body had been burned away, leaving patches of short, singed hair, patches with no hair at all. Far too much of it was gone for comfort, and Hank found himself surprisingly cold, as if he'd been wrapped in a blanket all this time and someone just tore it off.
Having left the medlab, he had bundled up in a sweater and plaid pajama pants, and was recuperating in his bedroom with a mug of coffee. He wasn't supposed to have coffee right now, as it was too much of a stimulant in his fragile state, with whatever drugs he was taking to feel better, but... no one else was there. It was good for the soul, and he quite needed that right now. He could enjoy his coffee and Twinkies in peace, sneak a little caffeine and a little high fructose corn syrup.
If Ororo didn't always feel like she was at the perfect temperature, her blood most likely would have been boiling. The increasing violence, and its proximity to the school, was putting her on edge. The weather in the areahad taken a noticeably worse turn, and she wasn't going to relax until this was all over.
She had to look out for her friends as much as the community, though, and as soon as she heard Hank was out of the medlab, she went to his room. She knocked firmly on his door, preparing herself for whatever she was going to see. His injuries wouldn't be the worst she'd ever seen, but it would make her want to hurt the FoH. Again.
People were going to have to learn to not piss off the goddess.
Hank practically choked on his coffee at the sound of the knock, and he shoved the rest of his Twinkie into his mouth. "Come in," he said, muffled, and then washed down the processed sponge cake and creme with another gulp of coffee. The cup was set aside and he cleared his throat, rubbing his chest as he tried not to choke. For all he knew, it could have been Cecilia or Elvyran, who would have ripped him a new one.
Ororo was much less likely to rip him a new one, for this at least. Normally so articulate, Hank's muffled response got a raised eyebrow as 'Ro entered, shutting the door behind her. "Everything okay, Hank?" She sighed and shook her head a little, studying him as she approached. He was fine, thanks to Ran, but he still had time to go. "You know I don't want to kill people..." The but was hanging in the air. She would hunt them down, and as tired as her general gait was, her blue eyes were sharp with anger.
Hank scoffed quietly, snuggling into his sweater and shaking his head. "Don't think about killing anyone, my dear. It's Christmas. However, my primary concern isn't revenge, it's preventing this from happening again." He patted the empty half of his bed and invited her to sit. "Oh, please, don't look at me like that. You should have seen it earlier. I heard it was quite frightening before Elvyran got his hands on me. Now I just have to... wait for all of the fur to grow back."
He smiled a little, trying to be overly pleasant to cover up how he really felt. Scared, mostly. He could have been killed had Jean-Paul not come at him with a fire extinguisher, and these hooligans were still out there. Hank had a feeling they were the same people who'd attacked Kasey and Aubrey, who'd killed Jarrod Shaafer, and with the school's identity public, finding them was of utmost importance so it wouldn't happen again.
"Do you know a better way to stop this from happening again?" she challenged. She wasn't really serious about killing them. Probably. But it sounded really tempting.
She politely took a seat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand gently on Hank's sweater-covered arm. She didn't press hard lest the skin be sensitive, but the comfort was there. "We," meaning herself, JP, and Bobby, "took care of some of the FoH not too long ago. Something needs to be done to keep our school safe. We're sitting ducks...well, we each have natural protection, but stepping foot outside by ourselves no longer seems safe. And I don't want to live in that world." After all, if Hank, the well-trained acrobatic genius, ended up like this, many people would end up in worse shape.
Hank grimaced. "I know, I know," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what we can do. Charles has so many other things to do but he's putting up psychic blocks around the school, now that our security system is so damaged... but I'm more concerned about anyone venturing outside the school. This place shouldn't be a prison, or a bomb shelter."
He frowned, reaching to adjust his glasses only to realize they weren't there. They were still shattered somewhere on the ground in Salem Center. "They're angry. They're angry, they're scared, and I imagine they're a small group of people who feel isolated and alone----so they're taking their anger out on the most available target. I don't know how much they know about us, but I do know they'll be prone to making grave errors... or so I would hope. They overpowered me far more easily than I would have expected."
Ororo knitted her brows in concentration for a moment before shaking her head. “If this is what the world is like when mutants are in control...” Really good job taking care of the country here, Magneto. It had come to a point where a mutant couldn’t walk around free outside safely. Not much different than it was before, perhaps even worse.
“I’m not just forgetting what they’ve done because they’re scared, Hank. Look at you!” She couldn’t sit still for her anger, and so she got to her feet, pacing a bit before going to look out of the window in his room. The skies were dark and cloudy. The sad thing was, a large part of her anger was because of frustration. She just didn’t know how to fix this problem.
"I don't have to look at myself, I can feel how I feel just fine, thank you," said Hank placidly, calm in spite of himself. "Ororo, please... I'm not suggesting we forget. Please sit. I simply wish I could remember precisely what happened. I barely saw any faces. I do----hn. I do know that Kasey and Aubrey were held by someone Kasey knew, who wasn't caught when you sought out their attackers. We could have a connection there."
Ororo paused, looking at Hank curiously. She didn't sit as he asked, but her hands joined behind her back as she considered his words. "You make it sound like this connection is the reason you—we're being targeted. Do you think we'd be left in peace if it wasn't because of that?" Not that Storm was suggesting they toss Kasey out on the streets or anything. She was just trying to get at Hank's thoughts.
Hank blinked, shaking his head. "No! No, that's not what I'm suggesting. Perhaps that's part of it. I don't know. What I do know is that Kasey knows one of these women, and we might be able to get some information, secure a few potential leads... it's certainly a start, as opposed to starting with nothing."
He hesitated a moment, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "I hope I'm not right, but I also ... have heard some things regarding Bobby's younger brother."
“Then we’ll just have to have a talk with your nurse, won’t we?” Might as well, after all, even if the lead didn’t help at all. It was like grasping at straws. At the mention of Bobby’s brother, she looked a bit shocked. At least until she remembered what happened at the Drake household several years ago. Not that shocking after all. “No, I have a feeling that you are very right, Hank.” And that was just going to make this more personal than it should be.
Hank rubbed at his chin uncomfortably. "I never met the boy," he said. "I always wanted to, and I spoke with Bobby's parents on the telephone, but for obvious reasons, seeing me would have given away his precious little secret." He chuckled hollowly. "Not to sound dreadful and self-deprecating, but for the last ten years I've looked like this and simply expected my personality to override any feelings of fear... and do you know, for ten years that has worked. Perhaps I've been riding on my good luck for far too long. It was bound to happen at some point. I simply expect people to be kind and I'm afraid that isn't always the case. It just hasn't been... really directed at me before, like this."
He cleared his throat and reached for his coffee to clear out the tickle he felt. "It's time reality burst that little bubble. Would you care for a Twinkie?"