reveriance | TEST DRIVE #002

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TEST DRIVE #002

TEST DRIVE #002

( 0 0 1 ) » WAKE UP

Were you asleep or were you unconscious? It doesn't matter: when you come to, there's an odd taste in your mouth and there's a low-level mechanical hum in the air. Your head hurts and you feel nauseous. You aren't anywhere you know: everything around you is metal, from the floor you lie on all the way to the ceiling. You are dressed in a jumpsuit you definitely weren't wearing before.

"We tried to save the world. I think— I think we did the opposite."

The message repeats on a loop. If you look for its source, you find a comms device on the floor next to you. The logo on its wallpaper says REVERIE TERMINAL. Upon closer inspection, you find the same logo on your jumpsuit.

Welcome to your new home. What choice do you have but to explore your surroundings?

( 0 0 1 . 1 ) » WAKE UP WHERE?
When you wake up, you find that you're not alone. But more importantly, you find that you're in a closet. An empty closet, bar you and your new companion. It's small, cramped, and there is no door that you can see. The ceiling is low, there is barely any lights, only some coming from the tiny flashlight clipped to your suit's shoulder. You cannot be sure that there is any air coming in to the room.

Are these grooves in the wall supposed to mean something?

( 0 0 2 ) » OBSERVATION DECK

There were no windows in the corridor you woke up in and no windows in any of the crew quarters you might have checked for occupants — but there are plenty of windows on the uppermost level of the station, deck 1. In fact, there are windows from floor to ceiling all along the circumference of the station's circular deck, and it's possible to walk along it all. What it shows is a strange solar system you've never seen before and a planet that might resemble one you know, but certainly isn't the same.

You're in space. You don't know where you are. Neither does anyone else.

( 0 0 3 ) » BAR

On deck 3, you find the bar. Tucked away from the crew quarters, it's dimly lit, there are bar stools thrown down on the floor and what looks like some very old drink spills, crusty and dark against the bar top. But there is alcohol here, or at least, what you think is alcohol, in bottles with faded labels, most of them indecipherable. Take a drink, get drunk, start a fight, or start a party? You're stuck on this station, might as well make the most of it, right?

( 0 0 4 ) » SPACEQUAKES

One second, you are is walking. Magnetic boots are on, the ground feels solid enough, for a metal deck in a space station. Everything is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as it can be, given that you still don't know where you are or how you came to be here.

The next moment, it's like everything explodes around you. You're thrown against the wall as sparks erupts from electrical panels, as the whole station rumbles and shakes around you. You fall to the deck, earning yourself scratches from the grating. When you look up, it's like nothing has happened. No wires hanging from open panels, no flickering lights, no more shaking. Like an earthquake in space.

( 0 0 5 ) » NETWORK

The comms device you found next to you when waking up connects to a station-wide network, REVERIE NET. You have the option to post video, voice or text messages.

What will you share?

( 0 0 6 ) » WILDCARD

The station features a variety of locations, from sleeping quarters free for the claiming to a dirty swimming pool and a bar that still holds alcohol (though some of the bottles seem to have been opened a while ago).

Go wild, but don't wreck the place. It's your home for the foreseeable future, after all.

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[ Charles pulls no punches and aims straight for that wound that never quite healed. Would never heal. Erik doesn't miss how unsteady he is. The serum must already be wearing off. Damn. He's going to need to figure out a way to make a helmet very quickly.

He knows Charles is deliberately antagonizing him and unfortunately that doesn't stop it from working. His jaw tightens. ]

Why are you always so quick to absolve Moira of the fact that she pulled the trigger.

[ He knows why. Or at least, he suspects. Another festering wound. ]

And do you really want to listen to my reasoning about why I tried to kill Raven? It's hardly relevant any longer. I failed.

Moira wasn't the one trying to kill dozens of people.

( That's always been the problem. The right and wrong of them. Each of them wanting the other to see their side. Sometimes Charles blames himself, the clumsy way he tried to fix things. But he'd still been shaking from feeling Shaw die - feeling himself die - and Erik's betrayal had left him panicked and unthinking. )

We don't know that!

( It's definitely a yell now. Where he more himself he'd put the signs together, he'd figure it out. But he's blind with pain, and fear, and such stupid, stupid hurt. )

I don't know where she is!

No, she was just trying to kill me and I had the gall to defend myself.

[ Erik really hates Moira. If only he could come up with a good enough reason to kill her. Maybe if she arrives here he'll find one. ]

I blinked Charles.

[ The mistakes of a decade ago come back to haunt him. He doesn't want to deal with this now. He doesn't want to deal with it ever and in ten years Charles and Raven will agree with him. But not now, not for Charles.

Erik hates time travel even more than he hates Moira. ]

It's a flesh wound in the leg. She's fine. She'll be fine. She's been on her own all this time while you were busy shooting up in the mansion with Hank and I was rotting in prison. You can go back and do that again and she will continue to be fine.

[ Maybe he's carrying some bitterness from back then as well. ]

( All of a sudden it's like he's back on the plane. Erik speaks and his words slice Charles open. The fight in him drains away and all that is left is a pale countenance and a twisted mouth that used to smile. )

You have no idea --.

( It's choked off, his hands curling into fists and the phantom ache of pain throughout his body. By the time he could even think about finding either of them it was too late. By the time he'd gone through the surgeries, his mind had been fractured. And he has regretted that for every second of his life since then.

He has to swallow it all down, the angry, bitter bile. He has to claw back the truth of his agony. )

I'm not the one who left, Erik. You did. You chose to go, and you think I should have -- what? Come running? Begged you to come back? I'm sorry, old friend, but my energies were better spent elsewhere.

( Not drinking himself to death, even though it feels like he still tries. )

[ Erik sighs heavily, trying to release some of the anger. He does know, better than Charles realizes in his current state. But trying to explain such realities to him at this time will be worse than pointless. ]

You could have come with us. We both made choices. There was a great deal you could have done if you had bothered to think about anything other than your own pain for so many years, anything other than laying the blame entirely on me for choices we both made.

But forgive me. I'm neglecting to acknowledge the incredible accomplishments your better spent energies managed to produce.

( That evokes a laugh out of Charles, the kind of sound that is snared in barbs and cruelty. He's shoulders are tight, and his jaw clenches like he's rounding up to Erik, like he's ready to fight. The blue eyes that used to crinkle in amusement now blaze with rage. )

Oh, could I? Tell me how that would have worked then. Because at that point in time I couldn't feel anything below my fucking waist. I couldn't move my legs. Any movement could have made the damage worse. Do you know how long it took for Moira to find us a way off the island? Do you?

( He's angry, and he's tired, and all he wants is to close his eyes and for everything to go away. )

You have the gaul to tell me I let our people down. I did my best. I tried to keep them safe. But you act as though anything less than ruling the world was a catastrophic failure. Christ, the ego of it.

Oh yes. Moira. The saint she is.

[ Of all the things he very much does not want to talk about again, Moira is at the top of the list. ]

What do you want right now, hm? Because I'm not particularly interested in hearing more about what a saint Moira McTaggart is. Or how I'm to blame for your failures. Or whatever else you've been stewing over the past decade in between shooting up and abandoning me in prison. You could have done anything. You had all the freedom that was stolen from me. And you did nothing while our brethren were slaughtered. Whatever blood is on my hands, at least I tried.

Jesus Christ.

( Be more of a Bitter Betty, Erik. He dares you.

Whatever colour had risen to his face drains out then. This is awkward, and clumsy, and he hates himself for it more than he hates Erik because he used to be better than this. He used to be kinder. )

Fuck you -- just fuck you, you absolute arsehole. You left. You did. And then all I know of you for years is the horrible shit you've been doing, so when you finally get arrested like you probably deserve, you what? Wanted me to charge in there and save you? From what? Yourself?

( His head hurts, his heart hurts. He wants to wake up now. )

Every kindness I ever gave you was thrown back in my face when you left, when you took my sister and you left. I'm not the man I was.

[ Oh yes because Erik is the bitter one. ]

Yes, I left. After getting shot at. After the navy fired nuclear warheads at us. I didn't see the point in staying around and finding out what else they had planned. But I did not take Raven. She chose to go with me. And you know why she made that choice.

[ Just as Erik knows why she left him, so many years later. ]

If that's all it took to break you, then you were too weak to survive anyway.

( It's like a slap to the face. Charles huffs out a breath, something that sounds at once disbelieving and inevitable. His smile is crooked, vacant of joy, just enough to bare his teeth like a wounded animal. How much he hates Erik Lehnsherr, how badly he wishes he could make himself feel only that. )

Mm.

( Weak? Probably. His heart had been torn out of his chest. He stares at Erik, something unfathomable in his blue eyes. The anger isn't strong enough to withstand the feeling of shameregretpain. It can't keep going, just like he can't.

And so he does the only thing he can think of and just walks away. Maybe there's a bar. Maybe there's something that will put him out of his misery. )

[ Erik's jaw tightens as Charles looks at him. All that pain laid bare again. He clenches his fist as he turns and leaves. He doesn't follow. He's done enough damage. And he'll keep doing more but at least he can stop from making it worse in this exact moment.

Once Charles is out of sight he lets out a breath and rubs a hand over his face. ]

Shit.

[ He finds him later. In the bar, of course. They all had their vices, after all. He approaches cautiously, but what difference does it make? Charles is still mired in the bitterness that consumed him all those years ago.

Erik doesn't sit. He just leans against the bar, close enough to talk quietly but not too close.]

I hoped I wouldn't see you here.

( There is a snort in reply, bitter and disbelieving. Erik could mean one of many things, and they both know it. Where else would he be? Where else could he go? )

I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, Erik.

( His glass gets turned in his hands, fingertips leaving a smear every time he twists it. He doesn't look Erik's way, but the anger that had raged earlier has been doused in something far more melancholy. It leaves him heavy, tired, unable to will anything stronger to the surface. )

You know what they say about old habits though.

( He lifts the drink to his mouth, drains it, gaze flicking around the room like he's not quite sure how to take the whole place in. )

[ It hurts to see him like this. To know that he was the cause. It's a hollow, twisting pain in his chest. He shouldn't have reacted in anger, no matter how much it took him off-guard. ]

I meant the station. Though we do have limited stores, so you're going to have to get used to the fact that this is going to run out.

[ And then he pours himself a drink because like hell is he going to leave it for Charles. ]

When I taken, it was 1983.

( He doesn't particularly like the sound of that first comment, but he keeps his reaction to himself. Erik would latch on to it if he showed any fear at being suddenly teetotal. He is though, he is afraid. Without the serum the pain will return eventually, the voices will grow louder, he won't be able to walk. The sheer dread of it makes him feel dizzy.

So he's glad when Erik changes the subject, even if it startles him. )

Well, that explains some things.

( The lines on his face, the grey making a subtle appearance in his hair, the scar on his neck. )

I want to say the years have been kind to you, but it doesn't look like they have. ( Using the glass to indicate his throat. His voice remains even, polite. It's the very same tone his mother used to use with people she didn't seem to care for, and the fact adds another level of sickness to Charles' stomach. ) Shaving accident?

There were some kind years.

[ That brief delusion he indulged in. A peaceful life. A family. A child. There's nothing Charles can say, no passive-aggressive sneer that could cut deeper than the fresh wound. Added to all the other losses.

He's not about to tell him the truth about the scar. He hasn't earned that. ]

Friendly fire. I wish you could say you look better than the last time I saw you, but why start lying now.

( Friendly fire? Ha, Charles doubts that very much. )

You were never one to pull your punches, Erik. It would be worrying if you started now.

( He almost makes a comment on it, the last time you saw me I was trying to bring Logan back to himself and you were trying to murder my sister. It doesn't have a point, not when Erik is supposedly from the future.

He pushes his shaggy hair out of his face again, glancing at Erik once more. Charles' shoulders are hunched in on themselves, his mouth a thin line. JHe might as well try to get information. At least until he drinks enough to not care. )

How many people do you think are on this station?

I'll start when you do.

[ He swallows some of his drink. It's terrible. If he could only find some charcoal filters. He looks at it because he doesn't want to look at him. The misery etched over his features. Misery that Erik can't help because of what he did to cause it.

The change in subject is unexpected. He was anticipating a more extensive excoriation, but maybe Charles wore himself out on the subject for the time being. Erik certainly isn't optimistic, or naive, enough to think it's settled. ]

Haven't been able to get a solid count. A few dozen, no more than a hundred as far as I can tell. It's not stable, which complicates things. People appear and disappear pretty much at random. Maybe one of us will get lucky.

Are any of them like us?

( Charles might be a mess, he might be broken, he might be damaged. But he's still Charles Xavier, his need to protect resides inside of him more strongly than anything else.

And Erik, for all their problems, is the one man he can count on to make sure that happens. )

I was told there were people from Mars here, a few more mutants would hardly surprise me.

[ He looks at his drink for a moment before answering. Does he really want to know? Does he really want to take that role again? ]

A few. Some from alternate versions of our world. Pietro is fast, like Peter. Wanda can do some sort of telekinesis like Jean, Rogue absorbs life force, powers, and memories through her skin. Dealing with that one is a struggle. Lorna has powers very similar to mine. Sonya... I'm not quite sure, it has something to do with memory manipulation. Some don't call themselves mutants but "Inhumans". They have this story about aliens manipulating their genes and... [ He shakes his head. ] It's obviously nonsense. [ He pauses. ] Most worlds we don't exist at all.

[ He meets Charles' gaze again. ]

They're going to have expectations of you.

[ It is a fact, and he states it as such. What he chooses to do with that information is up to him. ]

Edited 2018-07-01 03:54 (UTC)

I've met Sonya.

( She'd been something of a calming influence on Charles. ) She's scared though. I think some treading lightly there would be best. She assumed all of this was a telepathic assault. She's a nice girl, there's just something there. Something's happened to her.

( He'd been talking to Erik like a peer, like they might have done years ago. The future of their people had been uncertain, but they'd been so full of hope. It makes something ache in his throat. )

They'll have to get over that. I'm hardly in a position to do much for them.

( And if his powers come back, well. Then he'll be even worse. )

Something's happened to all of us. Treading lightly isn't my strong suit, but I'll do what I can.

[ An observation of a fact. Different things, different times, different circumstances. But none of them have escaped unscathed. His jaw tightens at Charles' dismissal of them. ]

So that's the plan, then. I do what I can while you wallow in whatever swill the station can produce.

Yes.

( He offers Erik a cheery little smile, something that should be sweet but instead remains dull and vicious. )

I'm powerless, Erik. And in this place I don't have my fortune, my home, I don't have anything else to give. So, good luck. You'll need it.

[ Erik grits his teeth. Charles' hollow smile grates on his already-strained nerves. ]

You could have your powers back whenever you want them. You know this. The money and the house do not define you. You value yourself so little that you would put a dollar sign on it? That all you are to them is some kind of producer of material comforts?

Edited 2018-07-13 06:28 (UTC)

You've hit the nail on the head there, Erik. Well done.

( It's an age old fear, if he's honest. Growing up he'd always known he was privileged. He'd only wanted to be kind, but there were so few ways of being so when all he had was money. Especially once people found out about his wealth.

Having the ability to hear the truth of things had left a scar that never healed, and haunting the halls of his mansion have re-opened them. He's glad his power is gone, he thinks viciously, glad that he no longer has to hear the echoing darkness of all the people around him. )

The only team I've ever put together was the one I stole from Shaw. They all died. I haven't been able to gather allies since.

[ Erik looks away and taps his fingertip on the bar, frustration heating to the boiling point. ]

I don't know the limit to what I can do. I know I can destroy whole planets, and I can do it in such a way that nobody can stop me. But you stopped me. You convinced me not to. Not with your powers or your money or your fucking house. It was because you have that... innate, human, ability to draw people to you. To inspire them. To keep them loyal.

[ He finishes his drink and slams the empty glass on the bar. ]

So you can keep wasting that. And I'll do my best, and probably fail.

[ He gets up to leave. ]

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mentis - 2018-07-25 12:51 (UTC) - Expand

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