ax_main | Tommy, Billy, and Goodnight

Tommy comes to meet and greet Billy and Goodnight. It could have gone better.

Goody found the first good-looking, large tree, and spread out his new coat there. This left him in a scarf and well-fitting scoop neck t-shirt--not quite up to standards but still had some style--and a pair of jeans that actually fit. The ankle boots were battered and old, but that just made them soft.

He felt almost like himself as he gestured for Billy to join him on the coat. "This is one of the best things about trees. They make excellent furniture. You got the book?"

Billy settled onto the coat and leaned against Goodnight at once. "You do too." In answer to the question, he gave Goody a mock-reproachful look and held out a copy of The Eagle of the Ninth and a book on Roman history and maps. "I know we're out here to work. I didn't forget."

"Depends on your definition of work." Goody settled in, shoulder-to-shoulder with Billy (which took a little slouching, seeing as Billy was a petite son of a bitch). "Right, let's see..."

He'd behaved himself and not dropped in on all the new kids on the first day, no matter how much he'd wanted to. But now the other guys from Billy's rescue op were out of the infirmary and hanging around the danger room and with Pam, which had to mean the 'freaking the fuck out' phase was mostly over.

Tommy spotted the pair under one of the trees at the edge of the woods. He zipped over, dropping back to normal speed a couple of feet away before flopping to the ground. "Goody and Billy, right? Tommy Shepherd."

Billy looked up and offered Tommy a wave and a slight smile. "I remember you from the forum introductions. Wiccan's twin, right?"

"He's more my twin, but whatever works," Tommy replied, grinning. "They finally sprung you from the infirmary, hunh? Not my favourite place in the world." He made a face.

Goody reached out sideways to shake Tommy's hand. "Doctors and lab coats have some negative connotations for us, too." For all that, Goody hadn't gotten a bad vibe off McCoy, Tam, or anyone else in the Xavier's infirmary. But now might be a good time to see if others had.

"We were just in the infirmary a few days," Billy explained. "The rest was just getting used to..." He considered, then shrugged, his expression half apologetic. "...everything, I guess. Glad to be out, though."

Tommy nodded along with the explanation. "Took three or four days to get the drugs out of my system after I busted out -- though I heard they've got something different for power suppression now? Took another few to get the hang of this place. Have you done a recon yet?"

"Just around and about," Goody said. So, Tommy had been at a facility too. Explained his interest, anyhow.

"It's not bad as far as safehouses go. Perimeter defenses are meant to keep shit out, not in. There are some built-in bug-out passages I found when I was poking around my first couple of weeks here. I can show you the entries later, if you want," Tommy offered.

Billy frowned. "'Bug-out passages'?"

"Tunnels in the walls," Tommy explained with a shrug. "They start behind some panels in the hall and end out in the grounds. Looks like Xavier -- or whoever built this place -- figured someone would need ways to get out fast. The fast part I don't have a problem with," he grinned wide, "but it's always better to know all your options."

"While it's somewhat worrying that a luxury house like this one was always intended for secret purposes," Goodnight drawled, a slight, crooked smile on his lips, "it's also intriguing. I do believe we'd love a tour of the bug-out passages." He looked to Billy for confirmation.

Billy nodded. "Yeah. OK. Sure. We've been exploring outside some, but I thought we'd seen all of the inside."

"I did a lot of circuits of the building and the grounds when I first got here. If anything was going to pop up and start shooting at me for sticking my nose where i didn't belong, I wanted to know what, where and when. Nothing did, but that's when I stumbled across some of the cooler stuff. It doesn't have to be now," Tommy added, propped up on his elbows. "Seeing as you're all comfortable and shit. But whenever. Have you gone into town yet? Salem Center's a dump, but it's better than nothing."

Goody reached into his pocket and produced a pack of Camels, then offered it to Tommy before taking one himself. "We been on a shopping excursion, yeah. You get into the city often? You're speedy, though, right? You can go any time."

Tommy waved off the offer -- pot was one thing, sticking tar in his lungs was a habit a speedster was better off not picking up. "There and back again in under a second," he grinned. "Hell, I'm down running circles around New York or Jersey a few times a week. Further, too. Turns out girls dig the fireworks displays at Disney."

Billy looked impressed. "How fast can you move?"

"I'm not sure what my top speed is right now," Tommy confessed easily. "But I can break the sound barrier with only a little bit of a sweat so that's more than Mach one, minimum. You're knives, right? And-" he squinted at Goody in the light. "And I have no idea. What's your thing?"

"I can tell when trouble's coming." Goody slowly released smoke as he spoke, a little with each word, savoring that first hit of nicotine. Sweet Jesus, he'd missed cigarettes. Now he just needed to find him some alcohol and he might remember all of himself. "Danger heightens my senses. Can be a little distracting, but useful, too."

Billy chuckled, just a moment of broken breath. "Yeah. It helps him show me where I should be sending the knives."

"Yeah, that would definitely come in handy," Tommy nodded in approval. It brought up questions, like how the guy let himself get caught if he could feel danger coming, but then people could ask that about a lot of them (why hadn't Tommy run, for instance? he should have been able to- stop.). Looked like no-one was completely immune to getting caught off-guard. "Does it ever fuck with you? Like, does it know the difference between someone coming at you with a water balloon or a grenade? Or is it more of a see-the-future clairvoyance deal that doesn't read intention, like 'this bridge is going to collapse in five minutes so clear the fuck out'?"

"It's never that specific," Goody admitted with a wry smile and another stream of smoke. "But it does ramp up according to how dire the threat is. If a bomb was about to go off on a bridge where I was standing, it'd probably send me spinning in my head. All the info can be a little... sudden and intense." He chuckled. "But I generally get the direction of the threat and at whom it's directed without much trouble. Hell, sometimes the threat can be me. That's a weird one." Not one he loved to think of, considering, but those sharpened senses hadn't done him any favors, during the break out.

Billy nodded agreement. "It's told him when I've been in trouble before. But definitely weird. And a pain in the ass," he added. He wouldn't deny that Goody's power could be useful, but he largely resented how much it stressed his friend. Even more, he resented that it was one more threat to Goodnight he couldn't just stab.

"Hunh. A 'dumbass decision' warning sign. I'd never get anything done with it blaring at me all the time," Tommy grinned at the idea.

"That might be part of my problem." Goody chucked, eyes twinkling. "And probably why I wasn't sure what it was all about, when it first started happening. Spend enough time making poor choices and it starts to feel normal-like."

Billy snorted. "You're talking shit again, Goody."

Tommy laughed, shaking his head. "Makes perfect sense to me. You guys weren't here yet when Bobby and I practically hit light speed going off the roof - for future reference, super speed, a skateboard and an ice slide go amazingly well together. You just need a decent landing plan."

Goodnight laughed out loud that time, slapping his thigh. "Now who's talking shit, Billy?" Though he believed Tommy entirely. He looked like the fun kind of guy. "I like the way you think, Tommy."

Now that was more the kind of reception Tommy'd been hoping for. Not that he begrudged Clint anything, but Tommy wasn't a 'lay your problems on my shoulder, brother' kind of person. "In all fairness, we'd have been street pizza if the Beaubiers hadn't grabbed us out of the air. But it was totally worth the lecture." Tommy flashed a thumbs-up.

Billy regarded Tommy with utmost serious for a moment, then turned to Goodnight. "I can't fly. So you stay away from the roofs."

Goody rested his free hand over his heart. "You have my solemn word. At least, until we befriend some fliers who can catch me. Us. You know you want to try it, now." He grinned.

Billy smirked. "That's why I said you had to stay away from the roof. I made no promises." He looked over at Tommy. "Which one is Bobby?"

"You've seen him around. My age, about my height, brown hair. Much worse sense of humor and nowhere near as snappy a dresser," Tommy reported cheerfully. "He has ice powers, rooms with Kurt? The blue guy from Germany, with the tail. The three of us - plus Scott Summers - were the first ones here last summer."

"Oh, we know Scott," Goody said with an eyebrow cock that might've meant anything. "And of course I've seen Kurt--been meaning to make his acquaintance. He and Bobby both sound like my kind of people--in spite of the lack of fashion sense. I can forgive it."

That reaction to Summers' name put Goody a notch up in Tommy's estimation. Maybe there was someone else around here who wasn't snowed by the wunderkind Big Hero On Campus routine. "You can't do much better around this place than Bobby and Kurt," he confirmed with a nod. "Xavier hauled them both out of tight spots in the beginning. Nothing like what you guys and me were in, but trouble all the same. They're way more idealistic, but in some ways they get it."

"I enjoy the company of the idealistic," Goody said easily. "They keep the rest of us from making the world too black. Ain't that right, Billy?"

Billy chuckled. "You're asking me? My best friends are you and Pam. I'm not a reliable witness, Goody."

"Sounds sensible to me," Goody assured him, sending a wink at Tommy. "But maybe we should find Bobby and Kurt, just to give you a fighting chance. I'll tell 'em you sent us."

"Works for me," Tommy replied lazily. "The more shit-disturbers hanging around with us, the less boring this place becomes."

That earned him a quizzical look from Billy, then a shrug. "It's a lot better than where we were. I haven't gotten bored yet."

"That's because it's all new to you." Goody laughed and looked to Tommy. "But I reckon once we're here for as long as you've been, it'll become an issue. Not that we need to be bored to make poor life choices."

"That's because you're snails," Tommy pointed out to Billy. "Everything takes a lot longer to get boring for you guys. I've gotta find some way to use all my extra time 'productively'." He practically spoke the air quotes around that last one, echoes of old lectures ringing in his exasperation.

"We are far too pretty to be snails," Goody argued cheerfully. "Unless they've got extremely good-looking shells, then I'll take it. But I take your point either way."

That seemed to have run that line of conversation dry for the moment, so Tommy switched topics. "What're your plans now? Lay low here for a while, or head out?"

"We're staying," Billy said. "It's good here, and I'm going to join X-Force anyway." He was watching Tommy with open curiosity now, but didn't seem to have a question to put to him.

"Speaking of..." Goody shifted slightly and directed his attention wholly at Tommy. "What's your feeling on the whole X-Force situation?" He didn't bother to hide his own slight skepticism, though he wasn't going to be a dick; Billy wanted it, and that was good.

"How cynical do you want your answers?" Tommy snorted. "Billy -- Wiccan -- and I are doing it, but not because I buy what Xavier and Scott are selling. I'd be running facility raids no matter what - but it's easier to pull off with access to school resources."

He thought about it for a second, shrugged and continued. "That answer doesn't mean shit with telepaths on staff, of course. But Altman's psi-resistant, so Wiccan says. Not brainwashable. And he hasn't noticed anything super-shady. Not yet, anyway."

"That's something, at least..." Goody glanced Billy's way and said, "I reckon you'd be doing the same with or without, as well." It wasn't even a question.

"Maybe." Billy looked thoughtful. "I think it would depend on how we got out. If it had just been me and you? I would want to hide, not fight."

Tommy got it, he did. And at the same time... if was going to be 100% honest? He probably couldn't have done the same. Not for any length of time. "See, I went the other way. No-one got me out but me. And I didn't have anyone with me inside. So I figure I'm not the only one who was being held in solitary, and those are the kids who are going to need help the most. Someone's gotta do it."

Goodynight's smile was entirely genuine. "I admire and applaud the sentiment, Mr. Shepherd. Not to mention I find it much more inspiring than what Summers is shopping around."

Billy frowned at that. "I like him. He's been helping me with Danger Room training, you know that."

"Oh, made it into the 'worthy of his Highness' club already? Congratulations," Tommy fired off without bothering to check his mouth. "Scott Summers is a dick. His brother's not -- Alex is one of the best -- but Scott?" he snorted. After everything that had gone down in February, the hurt still-- no. Anger, not hurt. Hurting was weak, proved that Scott had gotten to him. Tommy was better than that.

"If he thinks you're useful, or have intel he wants, he'll use you. If he doesn't?" Tommy shook his head, everything sour and awful in his chest. "I wouldn't go on a mission alone with him even if he condescended to admit that I was good for anything. I don't trust him not to let me die."

Tommy's last words left Billy feeling as if he'd been punched in the chest. For a second, he wasn't outside with Goodnight, he was in the sim again, cutting down cops he'd been convinced were about to kill him. He was hearing Scott explain how wrong he'd been, how he'd failed. He felt the collar on his neck again.

Stop it.

It hadn't been like that. Scott hadn't wanted him to die to save those cops. None of it had been real. And if it had been...

It wouldn't have been real. That's what the sims were for. So he knew what to do when he did go on missions.

Billy leaned back against the tree, disengaging from the conversation. He didn't want to talk any more.

Goody, meanwhile, was too interested in what Tommy said to notice the shift in body language. He put out what was left of his cigarette as he said, "That ain't a good sign when it comes to someone marginally in charge of things." And seeing as Tommy seemed pretty easygoing otherwise, "There's gotta be a story there." One that might be important for Billy's future safety.

"Too long of one," Tommy snorted, shaking his head. "Most recent -- I'm close with Alex, his little brother. And Alex wanted us to play nice, so fine. For him, I can do that. So I offered to bring Scott in the next time we went hunting for Right bases. We're cool, right?

"Next thing I know, a couple of weeks later, he comes stomping in to Brotherhood HQ where we were hanging out, and pulls this whole 'I need to know a bunch of details about when you were prisoners.' He pushes, Alex starts losing it, because who the hell wants to relive that shit? Pam's flipping out because Alex is going catatonic, but apparently it's important, so fine. All three of us answer his questions.

"Except Scott's acting cagey, right? So it's our turn to ask him what's going on. And it turns out he knows a shit-ton more than he's letting on -- only he won't tell us. Because it's private. And he 'doesn't have to tell us anything,' we're just there to tell him things, what the fuck ever. Like he wasn't there specifically to strip-mine us for information. Finally he coughs up a minor detail, tells us 'that's the last fucking thing we're ever getting from him,'" Tommy imitated Scott's voice scornfully, "and bails out."

He shifted in his seat, restless, his fingers drumming hard on his thigh. "Turns out the intel he was sitting on was the site where we found the records that led us to you guys. And Pam, Alex and I were all cut out of those missions. So no, I am not Scott Summers' biggest fucking fan. He can take his 'you don't have the right to know anything that I know, but you have to bleed out while I watch' and shove it up his ass. Sideways."

There was a lot of useful information in that "too long" (except not long, by Goody's standards) story. For one, that Tommy had Brotherhood ties--or at least, he'd had them before Alex and Fatale had changed sides. Goody had't been around for all that, but it was of interest, politically speaking, all the same. Second, that Scott was one of those "need to know, James Bond time" kind of guys, which wasn't surprising. Summers played it close to the chest, obviously, but whatever crawled up his ass and died must've been at least as traumatic as what crawled up Goody and Billy's, if he was that hardcore.

Of course, Tommy might've been exaggerating, but all Goody felt was an earnest sense of injury on Tommy's friend's behalf--which Goodnight was inclined to understand. "That warning could save the pair of us some stress, should Scott propose we need to give him personal information. I appreciate the heads up.

"He seems the driven, tunnel vision sort. Can't say as it surprises me much." Finally, Goody looked to Billy, and frowned at the body language he saw there.

"He's an asshole sort." Restlessness swarmed up Tommy's legs, the need to move overwhelming. He'd been sitting still for what felt like hours, his feet starting to twitch despite himself. "If you're in his precious inner circle you're fine, but he'll throw the rest of us under the bus without blinking." Not that you could see him blink, but whatever.

Goody politely pretended not to notice the twitching. "Who all is in this precious inner circle? Out of curiosity." Might be people who could enlighten them further. Billy might've lost interest in the subject, but Goodnight definitely hadn't.

"Jean. Warren. Alex, but that's not exactly by choice," Tommy added. "Bobby, which just goes to show. Wanda." Traitors. Tommy pushed himself to his feet, the buzzing too much to ignore. "I didn't come down here to dissect Scott's social life. Anything else you need to know before I jet?"

Chuckling at the impatience, Goodnight waved him off. "That's all I got for now. Thanks, Tommy."

"Cool. Hit me up when you want to check out those tunnels. Later, taters." And with a burst of speed -- and a sudden need to run off the growing wave of restlessness moving through him--Tommy was gone.

Goody chuckled after him, but then turned to shoot a mildly concerned look Billy's way. Whether Billy was annoyed that Tommy didn't like Scott--well, that, Goody doubted. More likely he hadn't liked the content of Tommy's story about Scottie McBossypants. Goody lit another cigarette, and assumed that if Billy wanted to talk, he would. Eventually. Someday.