InsaneJournal

Turn ‘round and drop yuir trousers and pants.
Who: Moira and Pete
What: Talking about mutant supressing
When: late June
Where: JGOC
Status: complete
Rating: Pg-13 for medical stuff and language



Between one woman in a coma, a woman and a man all sliced up, and a man who’d managed to survive a bullet to his head, Moira was having a really bad… June. July was hopefully looking up, though, and she’d finally made some progress on her promise to Wisdom.

It wasn’t that she wanted to do it for him, it was because she didn’t know if there wouldn’t be a situation where they’d need it. If Rachel lost control of the Phoenix, or someone with explosive powers showed up and lost control. Or god forbid, that strain of Legacy that overloaded a mutant’s powers that Scott had told her about.

There were a million reasons why she was doing this, and one why she shouldn’t (it wasn’t that ethical), but Moira hadn’t always followed the most ethical methods when it came to doing something she felt was right.

Still, turning off the X-gene was easier said then done, and then there were people who weren’t mutants. So while she researched methods to turn on and off genes, she focused on making the inhibitor technology less deadly. She thought with better shielding ….

“Och…” She lifted the bracelet to the light. “There has tae be a way tae shield the waves better….I cannae let what happened tae Dani happen tae anyone else.”

Pete didn't bother taking off his sunglasses after he entered the building. Wearing them gave him a buffer between a monster of a hangover and harsh lighting. Those two things did not go together.

Without pausing, he walked into where he had donated the blood before, finding Moira playing with jewelry instead of doing that science thing she liked to torture others with.

"Oi. You. You can still sod off," Pete said, in an obvious hint that he had quite a few dreams, already. "And you can stop trying to play dress up. There's no way to make a banshee look pretty or approachable."

And Moira's lighting was extra harsh today. She was considering smoking. Moira MacTaggert. Smoking. She pinched the bridge of her nose as soon as she heard Pete's voice. "It's a power inhibitor ye dense bampot." She waggled it at him. "I'm waitin' for some research so I thought I'd take another look at it. It's good for short term use, but if ye use it tae much it's like yuir askin' tae get sick. One lass had a resurgence o'cancer."

"Right, so that's temporary and oh, cancer's terrible. No one ever gets that. If that thing causes cancer, then give it to me and I’ve a list of people that deserve to have that nail-gunned to their fucking forehead.

“Now where's the more permanent solution," Pete asked, acerbically. He looked as sour and tense, as he sounded. "How long's the wait?"

And, really, he wasn't interested in something that could be taken off, either by prying it off an arm or an ankle, or by cutting off a hand or a foot. Ethics weren't even an issue. He had already done enough by that point in time - both while awake and while asleep - that he doubted most of the things he had done could even be remotely considered ‘good’. In fact, it was as though he purposely did a lot of bad things, with the vain hope that something good could come of it.

Not for himself. Naturally. There were always too many messes to clean up. Messes like other hims running about with his genetic crap meshed into them, and that was a threat that needed to be neutralized. Non-lethal neutralization at first, so he could ask some questions. Lethal neutralization could happen after there were answers.

Moira jerked her thumb towards the computer. “It’s nae somethin’ I can jus’ pull out of me arse, Wisdom. Right now I’m running a dozen simulations. Unfortunately it’s nae as easy as jus’ switchin’ off the gene. I tried that first and it kicked right back on. Oh nae, of course it wouldn’t be that easy.” Moira sighed. “So I’m lookin’ intae ways tae suppress the gene, an’ some ways on removin’ it some how. None of them currently look promisin’. I cannae dissect a bunch of test subjects either, of course, but that’s what simulations are for.”

Pete gave the computer a staring at, like he hated it and was willing it with all of his brain power to work faster.

"Bloody computers," he groused, immediately cursing himself for quitting smoking again, for the upteenth time. It was times like these that he really could have sucked up a carton's worth of toxic smoke. "Do you have a temporary means to keep powers from being used? You know. That isn't a tacky piece of cancer jewelry."

It certainly worked faster than most computers, but like boiling water it seemed to move slower when observed. Or when getting a combined Scottish and English stinkeye.

“Jus’ the bracelet, unless ye would prefer a choker. I think a nice thick collar would look good on ye,” Moira said, rolling her eyes pointedly in Pete’s direction. “Make ye look sae butch.”

Pete thought there was a special place in Hell that computers could fall into, so the stinkeye was indeed most mighty.

"Because I'm oh-so-feminine, that I need the help. How about not Because I think it would look nicer if I managed to shove it down your throat, so that you choke on it," Pete told Moira like he was noting a blue sky overhead, without a cloud to be seen. "I don't need trinkets. I need things that can't be taken off, by whatever means. Can you give me any time frame that it might be finished by, at the very least?"

“A week, maybe tae. I’m thinkin’ I’m goin’ tae work towards a surpressant. That will be easiest, but it’ll wear off. Ye’ll need booster shots until I find a permanent solution.” In fact, she already had an idea of how she could accomplish it. “OCH YUIR A GENIUS!”

She twirled on her chair and started typing rapidly.

"It's not for me... not precisely," Pete tried to clarify in a low spoken grumble, but he was left squint glaring at the back of Moira's head, instead. "I'm not going to kick you for giving me a compliment, unless it helps you work faster. What are you on about?"

“Booster shots! It’s nae perfect but I can suppress powers for a week at a time. I just need tae run some tests for side effects but that should be enough tae work on the short term while I research a more long term solution!”

"Brilliant. I'll take it. Use me for the tests."

That was a bit of a calculated risk, but he doubted any of his imposters were going to show up in superhero and vampire and wizarding central, to try to kill him. If they did manage to get to him, it's not like he was entirely defenseless or wandering around, unaware. His current alert status was elevated, to say the least of it.

This was also the only way he could be sure that it would suppress powers that were much like his own. Considering he had some of his powers back already, it would make for some good testing.

“Are ye sure? This could kill ye. Or make ye explode. They wouldnae heal any faster!” She gestured towards the other rooms, with her patients, nearly half of which were victims of psychopaths with claws in their hands. She was about ready to tell someone to take the man’s head off for a few weeks just so they could have some peace and quiet.

"Don't kill me or explode me, then." It was as simple as that. "If it's a temporary state, then it shouldn't be too terrible. What's the worst that can happen? I freeze me bum off for a week. Oh no. How awful."

He was being sarcastic. As usual.

“I’m goin’ tae enjoy this,” Moira said darkly. Truthfully, she didn’t particularly mind the man. It was just next to impossible to not find him abrasive and then react in kind. He had, ultimately, been a good bloke.

Mostly.

“Let me synthesize the compound…”

Mostly. It was hard to trust someone who had a job in espionage.

"I figured you would. Enjoy it while it lasts." He didn't exactly like MacTaggert, but she did save his bum before and so he trusted her in a medical sense not to let things go to hell in a well appointment picnic hamper. "How long is synthesizing going to take?"

“Ten minutes. Why don’t ye go play cricket with the kids outside while we wait.” Moira smiled at him, like she expected him to never actually do that, not even to spite her.

Pete stared at her and kept right on staring, as though she should know he would never actually do that. He showed no signs of budging. None, whatsoever.

So she stared right back at him, silently reproachful, until her machine dinged. And it was a long time coming, that full ten minutes, while she started at him over her glasses like a disapproving teacher, legs crossed, and hands resting on her knee.

Until finally. DING.

“Och. Thank god.”

And so the blissful silence ended. Since about five minutes in on the staring contest, Pete had that if looks could kill glare going on.

"Took you bloody long enough. Now let's do this."

Moira made a twirling motion with a smug look on her face. “Turn ‘round and drop yuir trousers and pants. This is a lot like a vaccination.” And oooh she was going to enjoy it.

"Oh ho ho, NO. I've had vaccinations up to my bloody eyeballs since I started working in the SIS. Both the under the skin variety and the intra-muscular type. I know you can do either in the thigh or the arm, well enough. I'm not fucking stupid enough to drop trousers here, so you can get a look at me arse. Sick tart."

She was getting the arm, like it or not. He even had an eyetwitch while taking off his suit jacket and rolling up a sleeve as far as it would go. No way was he about to go crawling off while flailing wildly, leaving his back exposed so she could jab him with one of her ice cold needles, right in the bum cheek. Forget that!

He smiled at her but it was of the thin and watery variety, like he was resigned to a fair amount of pain and uncertainty anyway, and not just because of the needle. What was inside the needle, that might foul things up.

Her expression was completely unchanged, and she blinked at him as she approached with her needle. “Tsk. Like I havenae seen better. Ye should have seen Charles’ before he was in that wheelchair. A bum of adonis, I swear tae god.”

Then?

JAB!!!!!!!!!!

"That's number one on the list of things I don't want to think about."

And then Pete winced horribly and uttered the mother of all curse words very loudly.

“It was about as shiny as the dome on his head,” Moira said, conversationally, while she watched the the needle carefully. “There we go. How do ye feel?”

"Hurty, with a side of angry." In other words? The usual. He also felt a chill creeping in. It was a feeling that he was all too willing to attribute to an ice cold needle. "I suppose you feel satisfied."

“Nae, it would take more than that for ye tae satisfy.” She disposed of the needle and then handed him a fact sheet. “Call me if ye experience any of these symptoms, so I can tell ye how long ye have until ye die.”

He made a eww face at the first bit and then scowled while speed-reading the information.

"Brilliant. I'll do that. Cheers, MacTaggert," he said, grabbing hold of his jacket as he headed for the nearest escape route.

Moira watched him go, then clucked her tongue as she turned back to her work. “Och, that lad is a heap o’trouble. Feels jus’ like old times.”