engineers: (109.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ 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... science within. )

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


Dec. 7th, 2012 06:09 pm
heartlessglitch: (pic#4804760)
[personal profile] heartlessglitch
[ the floating, steady video clicks on to a wide view of the well-lit and sterile x-labs. however, they certainly aren't as neat ― scattered with a smattering of metal components, tangled wires and half-finished assemblies. in the center lies a large and also incomplete fragmented mechanical structure, given room by pushed-apart desks.

far in the back of the laboratory, hank mccoy is pouring something from a beaker into a test tube ― looking a little grim. sitting at the desks in the foreground, danger and madison are working together in comfortable silence. danger is carefully stretching a transparent film over what looks like metal mesh embedded in resin. she occasionally glances madison's way for a few lingering moments even though neither of them have spoken ― almost as though in silent conversation.

her hands don't stop working when she glances up, her attention shifting to the feed:

As quaint as I find organic bodies to be, I have increased my productivity by nearly 400% since my mechanical form was restored to me.
With that and other personal matters dealt with, I have returned to X-Club, and we have increased our queue of experiments significantly.

[ madison – fingers detangling a set of large electrodes and feeding them into a sensor – tilts his head up at that, the staples along the thin and deep red line along his entire hairline glinting brightly. smoothly and a little stiffly, as if her words have fed into his: ]

That helluva backload means aside from needin' scrap and isotopes for our tech half a' our work ―

― we will also be requiring tissue samples from ImPort volunteers for experiments of a classified nature.

We'll be acceptin' them into January; but the sooner we get them, the better.

You may consider it your seasonal act of charity, if you wish.

[ her passive voice doesn't miss a beat, even as she turns to retrieve what looks like a circuit board, her movements automatic as she begins working on it. ]

It is more likely to benefit humanity than the majority of your other options, regardless.

So it is for a good cause, if you're human and all.

[ his hand opens, making a little adjustment to the electric panel from a distance without so much as a glance at it or danger. ]

Y'hafta sign a waiver, but it's less insidious-like than it sounds.

Additionally ― [ she does something that makes metal squeak on metal uncomfortably. ] ― you will only experience momentary discomfort.

We eagerly anticipate your responses.

engineers: (54.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ there's madison, sitting on the floor next to his workstation in the institute's basement, amid the usual glass and scrap metal littered around his exhausted form. mirroring the stress of the last week, his expression and posture are rather down. ]

I don't even know why I'm chattin' on this thing right now, 'cuz I oughta be workin'. [ the small laugh he gives is a little high-strung. ] But I think I just, uh. Wanna talk.

It's just, things are changin' a little a-and that aren't necessarily bad change, 'cuz... they aren't, right now. But I've always been kinda slippy with change and I could never cope well enough even before the headscramblin'. Change is terrifyin' and it always makes me mess up everythin' pretty friggin' bad, so I guess I might as well ask one a' them philosophical-like questions: How d'ya guys survive change without doin' a grade-A life-screwup?

I mean, I'm not even really talkin' about that ImPort boycottin' crap―can't remember the mashup a' the words they're usin' t'call it, but whatever―'cuz that don't affect me much a-and, 'sides, I'm never payin' attention t'it. Or anythin'. But I guess it's a helluva change t'many a' you peeps. Uh.

[ he clears his throat. ]

Speakin’ a’ change… we don’t know where Nemesis is, so. I guess he’s gone. Curmudgeonly old mutant? X-Club's gettin' a bit sparse. Yeah…

[ private to diamond lil. ]
I think I’m comin’ home late, kid. Sorry.

[ encrypted to danger. ]
I, uh. Haven’t seen y’in a while, a-and… I feel like I owe you some words. If you're willin' t'talk t'me.
engineers: (5.)
[personal profile] engineers
so d's gone along w/ mccoy + can't tell where she is + tried pretending that bullseye / unnamed (don't know them) goth hams peeps was breaking my leg but still no response / angry rescue. weird to sleep now w/out being watched + stared at. lonely. worried if this is because of that whole fiasco before.

oblig question: anyone else gone? what could it be? what do?

i think i'm going to interface w/ boxbot or be inside boxbot or use boxbot or screw this i'm too old + tired to find good wording. be using him until i feel better. the giant red robot? superhero stuff nothing else.

if anyone wants to talk / fly around / punch / shoot shit/ i don't know i'm here.

also i think our fridge is looking at me funny don't know what it wants but it don't want to talk to me? help?
engineers: (160.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ it’s a beautiful day in the outskirts of the city. there’s also an eleven-foot tall red and silver robot standing in the view, which i guess could also be beautiful if you’re into that sort of thing.

it moves in mimicry of human motions, its voice both it and madison's in perfect synchronicity.

So, I was kinda feelin’ a sorta nostalgia of my old Alpha Flight heroin’ days, not that I’m not a hero in the X-Men or whatever but… you know. [ nearly a dozen guns smoothly click and pop out out of the bot in a near-organic motion. his voice swells a little with pride. ] Boxbot here can get out in the field in the way I can’t, is what I’m tryinta say. And I missed interfacin’ with it, so.

[ and at that, madison extends himself halfway out of boxbot’s torso, his body becoming an electrical shadow. as he gestures, streaks of static crackle in the air.]

But that’s the thing, ain’t it? Y’can’t just quit that stuff. It’s hard to imagine a hero, or do-gooder, or whatever, actually meanin’ it when they put down the suit and retire. Y’know? It pulls you back in, somehow. Makes you all antsy-like when things go wrong. Or not.

[ then, a little sadly: ] Nobody has a choice.
engineers: (105.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ madison, being in the institute's basement, is surrounded by a load of half-assembled junk and some functional robotics that probably would be a tetanus minefield for anybody with one of those weird anti-vaccine activist parents.

he scratches his jaw wearily, and shrugs at the communicator. offering a weak:
] Uuuuuuh?

[ and, assuming it's self-explanatory, disconnects.

and reconnects five minutes later.

Look, anyone else got that weird... that weird feelin'? Like, everythin's all sailin' fine a-and dandy and life is... too nice right now but it's all. Weird and tense? [ he gives a weird laugh, but it's self-conscious and disheartened. ] Kinda awkward? Like, y'feel that shit's gonna hit the fan at any second and it's all been some typa depressin' ruse? To make you forget how the world really has t' be, I'm meanin'.

'Cuz... I dunno, it's probably my power all hijackin' and goin' all weird but I get the impression some a' the electrics are feelin' it, too. [ admittedly: ] A-actually, it's probably just me.

Haha, what's w-wrong with me...?
engineers: (17.)
[personal profile] engineers

image upload failed: #define eprotonosupport

TYPE tripod-legged turret mechanism
APPEARANCE gunmetal grey, mid-size, burnt orange detailing + 'eye', claw feet, artsy
DETAILS unnamed turret w/ optical array, originally set to defensive (please do not shoot) ran away from home, requires weekly maint. may be suffering from programming defect/may be damaged from travel, adventurous exploits. personality that of disgruntled teen. does not take kindly to brandished weapons + for some reason tires (will pay for damages)
IF FOUND please call or text/visit x institute during working hours
engineers: (50.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ there's madison, sitting cross-legged amidst the refuse-cluttered maintenence room of the xavier insitute. his hands are up in the air, assembling and reforming a floating, revolving mess of scrap into pipes and wires and setting them down beside them. after a minute of concentration, he speaks. ]

Okay. So, I guess I've been kinda scatterbrained lately. After arrivin' and all and then I got a position and then McCoy went and did the... y'know, the nobly leapin' into the jaws of the law-ion thing. It's all been a big old sensory overload. A-and I've been getting 'Nam flashbacks and bad dreams again. So... yeah. Ha ha.

[ awkward three minutes of silence, chewing his lip while working. then: ]

Not that this is particularly relevant or, well. I sorta-kinda hate it when like, people act all knee-buckin' shocked when their electronics or appliances go all kaput on them after what amounts to systematic abuse. [ his voice takes a slight electrical fuzz when he cranes his neck back in the direction of a microwave in the background. ] No, you're not broken, little guy. It's okay to need a lil' bit of help.

But, yeah. They throw a fit when its transformer comes all undone―I don't want you givin' up on me―after they, I dunno, shove a cellphone in there for shits an' giggles. Maybe if they were the mean type... crickets? Gerbils? A tiny baby in, aaa, a luchador mask out of tinfoil and spoons strapped to their feet? [ a minute passes. he furrows his eyebrows. ] Sorry, I just forgot what I was talkin' about.
engineers: (23.)
[personal profile] engineers
[ the distinctive hum of the porter resonates, for a minute. then, a voice, accented canadian. ]

Wait, New York's bein' invaded again? Why would Skrulls be here? Why am I here? What's happening? Am I dreaming?

A-and... [ a long, long pause. hesitantly: ] Who's she?


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