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capeandcowl2013-01-30 02:23 pm
ex_engineers208) wrote in capeandcowl2013-01-30 02:23 pm
Entry tags:
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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Sure, can see magic workin' 'longside physics, easy. But I know which one's more dependable, yeah?
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I'd rather put my life in the hands a' somethin' y'can really see.
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Glad t'know some other fellers got their priorities set right.
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Ought t'be confusin' t'rational people.
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Magic's older'n you and me. It don't care about people like us.
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What're they?
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I wish I was joking.
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Oh. Y'mean ― an actual gargoyle and a fairy, I thought y'meant. [ waves. ] Euphemisms, or somethin'.
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No human or mankindlike magic peeps around you?
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What sorta magic do those fellers y'do know do?
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What about you? What type of magic have you encountered?
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That don't mean I'm impressed.
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When y'see deep into it, it's ― awful. It ain't right for anyone t'witness it.
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But, uh. Technology...
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