ᴍᴀᴅɪsᴏɴ ᴊᴇғғʀɪᴇs. ( box ) (
ex_engineers208) wrote in
capeandcowl2013-01-30 02:23 pm
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eight □ video. joint.
[ The video opens on a sub-basement laboratory of the Xavier Institute. There stands who else but...Sydney Greenstreet? He gives the audience a small, knowing smile as he stands there in his rotundity in a black suit, holding a cigar. ]
Mm hmm hmm. I distrust a man whose trust for other men is determined more by his trusts than his distrusts. There is no trust without discretion, and in that scrutiny we develop the distrusts that determine our interactions with the world at large. I do like a man who tells you upfront that he distrusts you, saves the time of founding a trust that only disguises the true distrust present.
[ Once he's done he gives his audience a very stern look that holds for all of five seconds before it starts to crack, erupting into a hearty laugh. When he continues, his voice is different, now a rich, purring baritone that may sound familiar. ]
I'd like to present to you the X-Club's latest invention, a new take on an old classic... [ He fusses with something on his wrist, and his black suit turns with with a small red fez on his head that's more Casablanca than Maltese Falcon, until finally the illusion dissipates to reveal the slightly hunched form of Hank McCoy. ] ...the image inducer!
[ Hank straightens himself to his proper height, and the camera pans out to accommodate, now including Madison Jeffries in the picture to his left. ] This baby brings back memories. It works by projecting a hologram over its wearer, allowing them to appear however they like, and voice modulation to complete the disguise. Back in the day, those of us whose mutations were more visibly apparent used to use these to facilitate our free movement through society. These days, it doesn't really come up as often.
[ Madison cuts in, fiddling with something behind his back -- his hair looking a little off, pulled away from his face. ]
We still reckon it’s a highly utilitarian tool that might come in handy for imPortkind, if we iron out the kinks. Uh. We got a handful of secondary and tertiary projects bein’ worked on; most a’ them are distraction-like. "Distraction-like" only in that we have other primary projects, but they all have their applications. No matter how seemingly frivolous.
Actually! [ Hank nudges Madison with his elbow with an excited grin. ] Why don't we show them that other one we finished yesterday?
Aaah. [ For a second, Madison looks rather uncomfortable -- mortified, mostly. ] We don’t gotta show them everythin’. [ Hank spreads his arms, his smile growing wider. ] Ohhh, none of that now! There's no need to be shy.
[ Madison throws him a mildly despairing look, then reaches behind his head to pull off what appears to be a rubber band; his hair falling down in a rather luxurious, white-streaked wave. Hank beams. ]
He’s buyin’ me a haircut later. Entirely worth it. [ Madison sighs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. Vaguely, with a wave: ] It’s a, uh. Hair thing. T’sall. Enzymatic overdrive a’ follicular cells, yadda yadda. Whatever. Guaranteed to give you hair like Ka-Zar overnight! [ Hank says it with a wink. ]
Anyhoo, we’re on the tail end a’ publishin’ the results a’ the headline project, but if y’wanna donate a hint a’ tissue for the sciences... it’d be much obliged, yeah? There were some concerns last time it came up that I wasn't... [ In the mood to deal with. ] ...available to answer, that we'd like to be more upfront with now. What we're looking for for is proof of physiological connections between imPorts that are absent in the native populace, so obviously we'll need a reasonably sized sampling pool of imPort volunteers.
So, y’know, with that lil’ hint a’ clarity -- please? We got cash, alright?
[ They both give big, slightly desperate smiles for the camera before the feed cuts. ]
red is madison, blue is hank
Mm hmm hmm. I distrust a man whose trust for other men is determined more by his trusts than his distrusts. There is no trust without discretion, and in that scrutiny we develop the distrusts that determine our interactions with the world at large. I do like a man who tells you upfront that he distrusts you, saves the time of founding a trust that only disguises the true distrust present.
[ Once he's done he gives his audience a very stern look that holds for all of five seconds before it starts to crack, erupting into a hearty laugh. When he continues, his voice is different, now a rich, purring baritone that may sound familiar. ]
I'd like to present to you the X-Club's latest invention, a new take on an old classic... [ He fusses with something on his wrist, and his black suit turns with with a small red fez on his head that's more Casablanca than Maltese Falcon, until finally the illusion dissipates to reveal the slightly hunched form of Hank McCoy. ] ...the image inducer!
[ Hank straightens himself to his proper height, and the camera pans out to accommodate, now including Madison Jeffries in the picture to his left. ] This baby brings back memories. It works by projecting a hologram over its wearer, allowing them to appear however they like, and voice modulation to complete the disguise. Back in the day, those of us whose mutations were more visibly apparent used to use these to facilitate our free movement through society. These days, it doesn't really come up as often.
[ Madison cuts in, fiddling with something behind his back -- his hair looking a little off, pulled away from his face. ]
We still reckon it’s a highly utilitarian tool that might come in handy for imPortkind, if we iron out the kinks. Uh. We got a handful of secondary and tertiary projects bein’ worked on; most a’ them are distraction-like. "Distraction-like" only in that we have other primary projects, but they all have their applications. No matter how seemingly frivolous.
Actually! [ Hank nudges Madison with his elbow with an excited grin. ] Why don't we show them that other one we finished yesterday?
Aaah. [ For a second, Madison looks rather uncomfortable -- mortified, mostly. ] We don’t gotta show them everythin’. [ Hank spreads his arms, his smile growing wider. ] Ohhh, none of that now! There's no need to be shy.
[ Madison throws him a mildly despairing look, then reaches behind his head to pull off what appears to be a rubber band; his hair falling down in a rather luxurious, white-streaked wave. Hank beams. ]
He’s buyin’ me a haircut later. Entirely worth it. [ Madison sighs, blowing a loose strand away from his face. Vaguely, with a wave: ] It’s a, uh. Hair thing. T’sall. Enzymatic overdrive a’ follicular cells, yadda yadda. Whatever. Guaranteed to give you hair like Ka-Zar overnight! [ Hank says it with a wink. ]
Anyhoo, we’re on the tail end a’ publishin’ the results a’ the headline project, but if y’wanna donate a hint a’ tissue for the sciences... it’d be much obliged, yeah? There were some concerns last time it came up that I wasn't... [ In the mood to deal with. ] ...available to answer, that we'd like to be more upfront with now. What we're looking for for is proof of physiological connections between imPorts that are absent in the native populace, so obviously we'll need a reasonably sized sampling pool of imPort volunteers.
So, y’know, with that lil’ hint a’ clarity -- please? We got cash, alright?
[ They both give big, slightly desperate smiles for the camera before the feed cuts. ]
red is madison, blue is hank
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[Beat.] Nice Fabio-izer. No Harlequin cover will ever need Photoshop again.
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That's all we're s-sayin'. But, uh. The hair. Uuh.
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Oooh, I know! If you run out of funding, you can do L'Oreal commercials!
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[He tugs out the bottom, peering at it probably-cross-eyed through his lenses.]
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Y'ever get tired a' wearin' that getup?
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Neither Alpha Flight nor mutie―aaants. [ glances apologetically at hank. ] We didn't have any use a' that stuff. None a' us bothered.
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[Unless you have a buddy who's Sorceror Supreme and two super-geniuses who feel sorry for you. But nevermind that...]
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People tend t'have those fellers ditch 'em when the powers and aptitude crap kick in.
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Lucky.
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[It's not Spidey's fault he has an Aunt May, okay.]
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I don't think I've programmed Fabio into this one yet, come to think of it.
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I wouldn't be so hasty, Mr. Spider. Ours is a style that simply appeals to a more classic set.
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Did he really program in an older simulation of himself on a lark? Seems that way.]
Oh, Webhead, you'll make me feel old with that kind of talk!
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And how badly did I date myself even asking that question?
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[Does this mean Hank has done his research on Call Me Maybe? The dude has got to stay relatable, he pays far too much attention to Top 40.]
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