Julian and Pam | Backdated to 12/13
Dec. 13th, 2018 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ax_fatale posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ax_mainJulian and Pam talk Brotherhood
Skipping class turned out to be just as easy at Xavier's as it had back home, and with the way some of the kids looked at him these days, he felt more like a freak among freaks than he ever had. Usually, Julian compensated for that by upping the bravado and staring people down, but today he just wasn't in the mood. The docs would say that it was anxiety and depression from his PTSD, but he didn't like to admit he even suffered from the condition. Illness was weakness, as far as he was concerned, so when he skipped class that day, he had a goal in mind.
The Danger Room, as he'd been told, was a great place to unwind, and that was his full intention when he strolled through the doors of the control room. He just didn't expect to see the room beyond the control screen going haywire. Or, at least, that's what it looked like. Actually, he wasn't really sure what was going on.
The room was going haywire; Pam was definitely pushing the limits of what the room would allow for one person. On the surface, it looked like clockwork chaos - slow moving, oversized blockages and traps clicking their way into position in a preordained order, creating something not unlike a maze she was supposed to make it through in less and less time and without sustaining any injury.
It had been boring beyond belief, and she and Billy had spiced it up by adding targets that had to be taken out at random intervals, making it considerably more difficult to make it to the end goal. Still not dangerous, but definitely harder. And a lot more fun.
Neither the room not the scenario cared whether or not she was visible, so she wasn't bothering to be. Thus, it looked a lot as if everything was just happening at random, with targets falling to the ground in a pool of blood (nice programming, actually, the blood looked real) while the ever changing maze continued it's movement. Until, finally, Pam hit the wall plate at the far end, and faded into visibility to reveal one breathless blue girl wearing a sports bra and exercise shorts who had a very smug grin on her face.
Maybe she still wasn't sleeping through the night, but at least she was back up to speed. It was something.
Julian was impressed. In fact, for a few moments, he just stood there, his mouth a little slack, as he sized up the blue girl panting one one side of the room. The blue girl...who could turn invisible and slaughter a lot of realistic people while dodging that whole...whatever it was that the room had thrown at here. How could you not be impressed. He'd clap if he still had hands. Which he didn't.
Instead, the doors were forced open by sheer telekinetic will, and he stepped through, dressed in sleek, expensive workout pants, sneakers, and t-shirt, his arms clearly ending quite short of where they should have, just below the elbow, but he moved like the world was his to command. "That. Was bad ass."
A knife slipped into Pam's hand as the doors seemed to yank themselves open and she disappeared for a moment, reappearing a split second later once she'd had time to recognize the person entering wasn't a threat. "Yeah, well. I'm the best," she agreed smugly, slipping the knife back into its sheath. "And you're the guy from the journal intro, right? The one who told people off."
Julian tilted his head, then connected the blue with the Brotherhood chick who'd come at him in his post. A smirk curled his lips and he shrugged. "Yeah well. Gotta make an impression, right? Most know me as Hellion. I'd shake your hand, but..." Jokes were easier than dwelling, anyway.
"Yeah, guessing that's not working out so well for you, huh?" She smirked back unapologetically. No point in ignoring it when it was right out there and he was calling attention - besides, like she'd said in his welcome thing, she didn't care about his hands. She had plenty of scars of her own she was just as glad people didn't ask about. "Anyway, you definitely made an impression. I think that's the first time I ever bothered replying to one of those things."
Whatever ire arose from her first statement was tempered by the second, and the smirk widened to a smile. One that said, 'Yeah, I'm that good.' "You didn't do so bad yourself, you know. Especially in here. If I wasn't impressed before, I sure as hell am now."
"Thanks." Pam smiled and reached back to pull the scunci out of her hair. "Not something I hear real often around here. Most of the morons have issues with the number of dead bodies, but fuck 'em. I'm Fatale, by the way - I can't remember whether or not I said in your intro. Calling me Pam's fine, too."
"Kinda like Fatale better, but it's Julian if we're going with those names." He paced past her, looking over the room. "And I've got no issue with dead bodies if they aren't mutants."
Pam let out a chuff of amusement. "How did the boss not find you?" she asked as she turned to watch what he was doing. "Or Lance and Wanda, at least."
A knife pulled itself from one of the bodies, surrounded in a soft green glow. It turned in the air, then shot toward a target struggling to its feet.
Julian glanced over his shoulder. “My parents had something to do with it. At least until some flatline bombed my car. Then they decided I wasn’t worth the bad headline. I’m only here because of the doctors and the people making me new arms.”
"Good a reason as any." Pam walked over to where the target had fallen and nodded approvingly. "A little more to the left if you want to make sure its fatal," she suggested for his future reference. "Nice shot, though - you're a teke?" She pulled out her knife and put it back in its sheath, then straightened back up and turned to look at him. "And anyway, I didn't mean the Professor. I mean, he's okay, and he's been cool about us being here, but he's not in the Boss' league."
"I didn't mean him either," Julian told her, a smirk pulling at his lips. "And yeah. I'm a teke. A damn good one. And if I'd had my way before the bombing, I would have been trying to find your boss."
Pam made a face. "You'd've had a shit time of it. Everyone's trying to find him. He took off to check into something last year and hasn't come back. But you could've found Wanda easy enough - she posts shit on Dragon Girl's YouTube page when she's bored."
Julian shrugged carefully. "Should've, could've. Doesn't matter now."
"It does if you still wanta get in touch with the Brotherhood." Pam shrugged. "Like you said, you're a damn good teke. Might as well use it for something."
"I wouldn't mind meeting them," he agreed, but glanced back at the room for a moment. "But for the moment...there are some things here that I can't pass up, either."
"The Danger Room?" Pam grinned. "Can't blame you there. It's the best thing about the school."
"Yeah?" That hadn't been what Julian meant, but he didn't correct her. Instead, he tilted his head to look at her. "Is that why you're here?"
"No. It's a definite bonus, though," Pam countered. She met his eyes and held them, mostly to keep herself from flickering as she tried to decide how she wanted to answer the question he was actually trying to ask with that.
"Well, whatever reason," Julian decided, "are you sticking around?"
"I don't know," Pam admitted. "We're talking about leaving, but we haven't decided. Sooner or later we'll go back." She smirked. "Why, trying to get rid of me?"
"Not yet," he hopped up to sit on one of the stilled pieces of the maze. "Who's 'we'?"
"Alex." Pam climbed up to perch next to him. "Also known as Havok. I think they caught him on TV once - tall blond guy, throws plasma."
"Oh yeah," Julian hummed thoughtfully. "I think I remember. One of those protests you guys broke up."
"Yeah, probably." Pam smiled at the memory. "Those were sort of awesome. I seriously miss that. Though the Brotherhood hasn't been doing as much lately anyway."
"Why not?" he asked curiously. "I mean, it's not as if the Friends of Humanity have really gone away."
"They got a fuckload of bad press when the headquarters blew." Pam made a face. "I still think they got what they deserved. I mean, they were the ones who stockpiled all the weapons, right? It's poetic justice or something that their own ammo killed them."
"You make it sound like someone doesn't think they got what they deserved," Julian told her.
Pam shrugged. "Opinions varied. I think the big problem was that we didn't do it on purpose. And a bunch of us nearly got killed, and everyone decided to blame themselves."
"Kinda sounds like you need a leader," he mused.
"Lance is a good leader," Pam bristled. Because he was. "He and Wanda took over when the Boss took off, and he's done a good job of it. Once he's back, even if he doesn't find the Boss, the Brotherhood'll be back in business."
"Don't get me wrong - I'm not bashing on your boy. It's just that a good leader woulda taken care of all that doubt and bullshit. A team can't work like that. A team has to be as thick as blood, working with the same goal in mind." Julian told her.
"Like we were when the Boss was there." Pam sighed. She couldn't argue that.
"Now you and your boy Havok are here, and the rest of team is over there, and it doesn't sound like there's a lot of heads on the same goal," he pointed out.
Pam's eyebrows climbed. "And you've got the answer to it all?" she guessed. Honestly, he sounded a little like an infomercial spokesman.
"Yeah," Julian smiled simply. "You need a target."
Whatever she'd been expecting as an answer, that hadn't been it. "I do?" she asked doubtfully. "Or the Brotherhood does? Because the most recent policy has been 'Don't kill the flatscans, you'll give them martyrs', so I'm not sure they really want me knifing anyone."
"Sure. If they know a mutant killed 'em," he shrugged.
"Which they wouldn't have to," Pam admitted, giving what he'd said genuine consideration. "I could definitely manage that. Who'd you have in mind?" Not that she necessarily would - but if he had a good idea, she might be open to it.
"I'm kind of out of the game when it comes to who's been stirring up shit about mutants," Julian told her, "and if I ever find out who bombed my car, I'm taking them out myself. Creatively."
Pam nodded, approving the sentiment fully, and grinned, her eyebrows rising as she eyed him speculatively. "So you're a creative guy, huh? How creative?"
For a moment, Julian thought he might actually be moving past his own comfort zone. He stared at the opposite wall, frowning. He'd never really been about outright killing people in the past. Just, you know, teaching them a lesson. But ever since the attack, he'd had all this anger inside that he just couldn't get past. It didn't matter how many therapy sessions they threw at him, he found that all he could think about was making his attacker suffer.
As Fatale asked her question, his favorite fantasy came to mind: watching the guilty party get into a car and turn the key, then having the entire thing slowly crush in on him until it was as compact as a four-foot cube. The scene finished playing in his head and he realized he'd been quiet for a minute, and yeah, she was waiting on an answer. He took a deep breath, then gave a short, shrugging motion as he looked back at her. "I'll think of something."
"Well, if you need knives, you know who to talk to." Pam grinned and slipped down off the wall. "Anyway, you want to give the sim a shot? Show me what you can do?"
He smirked and followed, then turned toward the room, his eyes glinting. "Fuck yeah."
Skipping class turned out to be just as easy at Xavier's as it had back home, and with the way some of the kids looked at him these days, he felt more like a freak among freaks than he ever had. Usually, Julian compensated for that by upping the bravado and staring people down, but today he just wasn't in the mood. The docs would say that it was anxiety and depression from his PTSD, but he didn't like to admit he even suffered from the condition. Illness was weakness, as far as he was concerned, so when he skipped class that day, he had a goal in mind.
The Danger Room, as he'd been told, was a great place to unwind, and that was his full intention when he strolled through the doors of the control room. He just didn't expect to see the room beyond the control screen going haywire. Or, at least, that's what it looked like. Actually, he wasn't really sure what was going on.
The room was going haywire; Pam was definitely pushing the limits of what the room would allow for one person. On the surface, it looked like clockwork chaos - slow moving, oversized blockages and traps clicking their way into position in a preordained order, creating something not unlike a maze she was supposed to make it through in less and less time and without sustaining any injury.
It had been boring beyond belief, and she and Billy had spiced it up by adding targets that had to be taken out at random intervals, making it considerably more difficult to make it to the end goal. Still not dangerous, but definitely harder. And a lot more fun.
Neither the room not the scenario cared whether or not she was visible, so she wasn't bothering to be. Thus, it looked a lot as if everything was just happening at random, with targets falling to the ground in a pool of blood (nice programming, actually, the blood looked real) while the ever changing maze continued it's movement. Until, finally, Pam hit the wall plate at the far end, and faded into visibility to reveal one breathless blue girl wearing a sports bra and exercise shorts who had a very smug grin on her face.
Maybe she still wasn't sleeping through the night, but at least she was back up to speed. It was something.
Julian was impressed. In fact, for a few moments, he just stood there, his mouth a little slack, as he sized up the blue girl panting one one side of the room. The blue girl...who could turn invisible and slaughter a lot of realistic people while dodging that whole...whatever it was that the room had thrown at here. How could you not be impressed. He'd clap if he still had hands. Which he didn't.
Instead, the doors were forced open by sheer telekinetic will, and he stepped through, dressed in sleek, expensive workout pants, sneakers, and t-shirt, his arms clearly ending quite short of where they should have, just below the elbow, but he moved like the world was his to command. "That. Was bad ass."
A knife slipped into Pam's hand as the doors seemed to yank themselves open and she disappeared for a moment, reappearing a split second later once she'd had time to recognize the person entering wasn't a threat. "Yeah, well. I'm the best," she agreed smugly, slipping the knife back into its sheath. "And you're the guy from the journal intro, right? The one who told people off."
Julian tilted his head, then connected the blue with the Brotherhood chick who'd come at him in his post. A smirk curled his lips and he shrugged. "Yeah well. Gotta make an impression, right? Most know me as Hellion. I'd shake your hand, but..." Jokes were easier than dwelling, anyway.
"Yeah, guessing that's not working out so well for you, huh?" She smirked back unapologetically. No point in ignoring it when it was right out there and he was calling attention - besides, like she'd said in his welcome thing, she didn't care about his hands. She had plenty of scars of her own she was just as glad people didn't ask about. "Anyway, you definitely made an impression. I think that's the first time I ever bothered replying to one of those things."
Whatever ire arose from her first statement was tempered by the second, and the smirk widened to a smile. One that said, 'Yeah, I'm that good.' "You didn't do so bad yourself, you know. Especially in here. If I wasn't impressed before, I sure as hell am now."
"Thanks." Pam smiled and reached back to pull the scunci out of her hair. "Not something I hear real often around here. Most of the morons have issues with the number of dead bodies, but fuck 'em. I'm Fatale, by the way - I can't remember whether or not I said in your intro. Calling me Pam's fine, too."
"Kinda like Fatale better, but it's Julian if we're going with those names." He paced past her, looking over the room. "And I've got no issue with dead bodies if they aren't mutants."
Pam let out a chuff of amusement. "How did the boss not find you?" she asked as she turned to watch what he was doing. "Or Lance and Wanda, at least."
A knife pulled itself from one of the bodies, surrounded in a soft green glow. It turned in the air, then shot toward a target struggling to its feet.
Julian glanced over his shoulder. “My parents had something to do with it. At least until some flatline bombed my car. Then they decided I wasn’t worth the bad headline. I’m only here because of the doctors and the people making me new arms.”
"Good a reason as any." Pam walked over to where the target had fallen and nodded approvingly. "A little more to the left if you want to make sure its fatal," she suggested for his future reference. "Nice shot, though - you're a teke?" She pulled out her knife and put it back in its sheath, then straightened back up and turned to look at him. "And anyway, I didn't mean the Professor. I mean, he's okay, and he's been cool about us being here, but he's not in the Boss' league."
"I didn't mean him either," Julian told her, a smirk pulling at his lips. "And yeah. I'm a teke. A damn good one. And if I'd had my way before the bombing, I would have been trying to find your boss."
Pam made a face. "You'd've had a shit time of it. Everyone's trying to find him. He took off to check into something last year and hasn't come back. But you could've found Wanda easy enough - she posts shit on Dragon Girl's YouTube page when she's bored."
Julian shrugged carefully. "Should've, could've. Doesn't matter now."
"It does if you still wanta get in touch with the Brotherhood." Pam shrugged. "Like you said, you're a damn good teke. Might as well use it for something."
"I wouldn't mind meeting them," he agreed, but glanced back at the room for a moment. "But for the moment...there are some things here that I can't pass up, either."
"The Danger Room?" Pam grinned. "Can't blame you there. It's the best thing about the school."
"Yeah?" That hadn't been what Julian meant, but he didn't correct her. Instead, he tilted his head to look at her. "Is that why you're here?"
"No. It's a definite bonus, though," Pam countered. She met his eyes and held them, mostly to keep herself from flickering as she tried to decide how she wanted to answer the question he was actually trying to ask with that.
"Well, whatever reason," Julian decided, "are you sticking around?"
"I don't know," Pam admitted. "We're talking about leaving, but we haven't decided. Sooner or later we'll go back." She smirked. "Why, trying to get rid of me?"
"Not yet," he hopped up to sit on one of the stilled pieces of the maze. "Who's 'we'?"
"Alex." Pam climbed up to perch next to him. "Also known as Havok. I think they caught him on TV once - tall blond guy, throws plasma."
"Oh yeah," Julian hummed thoughtfully. "I think I remember. One of those protests you guys broke up."
"Yeah, probably." Pam smiled at the memory. "Those were sort of awesome. I seriously miss that. Though the Brotherhood hasn't been doing as much lately anyway."
"Why not?" he asked curiously. "I mean, it's not as if the Friends of Humanity have really gone away."
"They got a fuckload of bad press when the headquarters blew." Pam made a face. "I still think they got what they deserved. I mean, they were the ones who stockpiled all the weapons, right? It's poetic justice or something that their own ammo killed them."
"You make it sound like someone doesn't think they got what they deserved," Julian told her.
Pam shrugged. "Opinions varied. I think the big problem was that we didn't do it on purpose. And a bunch of us nearly got killed, and everyone decided to blame themselves."
"Kinda sounds like you need a leader," he mused.
"Lance is a good leader," Pam bristled. Because he was. "He and Wanda took over when the Boss took off, and he's done a good job of it. Once he's back, even if he doesn't find the Boss, the Brotherhood'll be back in business."
"Don't get me wrong - I'm not bashing on your boy. It's just that a good leader woulda taken care of all that doubt and bullshit. A team can't work like that. A team has to be as thick as blood, working with the same goal in mind." Julian told her.
"Like we were when the Boss was there." Pam sighed. She couldn't argue that.
"Now you and your boy Havok are here, and the rest of team is over there, and it doesn't sound like there's a lot of heads on the same goal," he pointed out.
Pam's eyebrows climbed. "And you've got the answer to it all?" she guessed. Honestly, he sounded a little like an infomercial spokesman.
"Yeah," Julian smiled simply. "You need a target."
Whatever she'd been expecting as an answer, that hadn't been it. "I do?" she asked doubtfully. "Or the Brotherhood does? Because the most recent policy has been 'Don't kill the flatscans, you'll give them martyrs', so I'm not sure they really want me knifing anyone."
"Sure. If they know a mutant killed 'em," he shrugged.
"Which they wouldn't have to," Pam admitted, giving what he'd said genuine consideration. "I could definitely manage that. Who'd you have in mind?" Not that she necessarily would - but if he had a good idea, she might be open to it.
"I'm kind of out of the game when it comes to who's been stirring up shit about mutants," Julian told her, "and if I ever find out who bombed my car, I'm taking them out myself. Creatively."
Pam nodded, approving the sentiment fully, and grinned, her eyebrows rising as she eyed him speculatively. "So you're a creative guy, huh? How creative?"
For a moment, Julian thought he might actually be moving past his own comfort zone. He stared at the opposite wall, frowning. He'd never really been about outright killing people in the past. Just, you know, teaching them a lesson. But ever since the attack, he'd had all this anger inside that he just couldn't get past. It didn't matter how many therapy sessions they threw at him, he found that all he could think about was making his attacker suffer.
As Fatale asked her question, his favorite fantasy came to mind: watching the guilty party get into a car and turn the key, then having the entire thing slowly crush in on him until it was as compact as a four-foot cube. The scene finished playing in his head and he realized he'd been quiet for a minute, and yeah, she was waiting on an answer. He took a deep breath, then gave a short, shrugging motion as he looked back at her. "I'll think of something."
"Well, if you need knives, you know who to talk to." Pam grinned and slipped down off the wall. "Anyway, you want to give the sim a shot? Show me what you can do?"
He smirked and followed, then turned toward the room, his eyes glinting. "Fuck yeah."
