Midnight Shadows Guided Games GENEsis: DOFP Genesis In Character Days of Future Past [NYC] Probability. [Elise / Jax]


12-02-2018
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12-02-2018, 09:48 PM
Probability. [Elise / Jax] [Post #1]
Probability

Jaxon and Elise returned from this moment here. The weight of what they witnessed on that video has yet to sink in.

Location: Jaxon's office.
An area of half a dozen rooms containing servers and computers. These are Jaxon's work stations in his position as the security chief of the theatre. One of the rooms is locked behind a door. It's Jaxon's private room which he generally only uses to sleep in.


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* For Elise [Fred] & Jaxon [Chrissie] initially. Crashing is allowed.
* All GENEsis and Board rules apply.
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12-04-2018
02:57 PM
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12-04-2018, 02:57 PM
[In-Character] [Post #2]
Jaxon couldn’t get the images out of his head. It was disturbing to say the least. The breach of privacy on any man or any woman to be filmed while having intercourse – and then having that video be put on youtube. Some very sick-minded people had done it, and had now access to it. Jaxon could feel his human side ache at this prospect especially given what kind of hell Scott Summers and Emma Frost had been through and were still trapped in.

“I think I will have some Scotch”, Jaxon said. He did not have any of the decent variety like Victor but that was because he had no use for it. Jaxon was not a drinker. Generally, he stayed away from alcohol because his bionic components required more intense maintenance whenever he drank too much. But right now, he felt very human, very much like he had been sucker-punched and that no flame would be able to burn the images out of his mind.

“Would you like some, too?” He asked Elise who had for some reason followed him back to his part of the theatre. Well, maybe she had felt as out of place amongst the people directly affected by this. Not that the both of them weren’t, but neither Jaxon nor Elise were related to Scott Sommers. “It is just Red Label but it burns when you gulp it down and that will do for me right now.”

Jaxon pulled open the doors of a cabinet standing right next to the door that would lead into his private bedroom. The door was locked as usually. Even though he was not sure why he was so adamant about it. There was nothing of value in there. Just a bed. Well, there was …

He shut the cabinet door, holding the bottle that was missing about a hand in width from its contents and two tumblers. Crossing the distance back to Elise he just set the glasses down and poured both of them a finger of Whiskey each. Jax did not toast or say anything else before he simply knocked back his glass’s content with a single large gulp and proceeded to pour a second one. He left the bottle unscrewed and set it out so Elise could help herself should she wish to.

The second serving, Jaxon just nipped on. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, cradling the tumbler above his elbow. His gaze was directed downward, as he did what he could to literally shut off the endless loop of the video in the back of his mind. Sometimes the bionic parts of his brain threatened to drive him insane.

But the images of the two having sex was not what repeated itself over and over. “I cannot get the image of him literally begging for her life out of my head…” There had been pure and brutal despair so visible on his face and in Scott Summers’s eyes. To see a man so proud and strong reduced to a state where he would have killed himself to save her, it shook Jaxon to the core.
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12-05-2018
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12-05-2018, 05:20 PM
[In-Character] [Post #3]
There wasn’t a logical reason that she could come up with for why she had followed Jaxon down the halls. She reasoned that initially they had been moving in the direction towards her and Megan’s shared room, though at some point they had veered off that course. She blamed her thoughts taking over on the detour. He had led them into a room, and her perception had finally caught up, realizing he had led them into a room she had not yet been in.

There were computers up and running, server towers, loose processors and boards, several doors that led off into different directions, some of which were cracked open.

When Jaxon announced he planned to have a Scotch, she realized he had led her into a space that was his. It made her wonder how vast this building stretched. There seemed to be at least four levels, at least that was the number she had accessed already. She found it somewhat odd, that the actual amphitheater was mostly left as it was. She occasionally spied the twins and the newer boy playing about on the stage or pretending to watch a show from the fold down seats. She looked at him and wondered what prompted him to consider alcohol, then she wondered how much of him was human. Gabe had no actual definitive idea. She reasoned he was much like her understanding of the theater in that she had accessed seemingly only so much.

The direction had her both wandering and wondering. He was so clinical that she at times forgot that he had been born ‘human’. Someone that actually possessed feelings and how to attempt to process them.

She glanced at the bottle in his hands, noting that he had brought forth two tumblers, assuming she would want one. She gave an absentminded nod of her head when he asked. She nibbled at her lower lip when she considered the initial pour. Red Label, she nodded again at the description. She lifted it quickly and swallowed the contents in one go, which he seemed to have the same thought of as they set their glasses down in synch. He poured himself another go and set the bottle down with the lid left off to imply she was apparently welcome to more. She touched her lips gently with her right hand as her left reached forward to pour a second helping.

He didn’t look at her, he didn’t say much else, he seemed to instead sink into his thoughts. She wondered what he was replying over and over in his head. And she wanted to ask if he perceived everything in vibrant accuracy.

When he finally spoke, she lowered the tumbler hesitantly from her lips. “He loves her.” She said, because that was the simple fact of the matter. “Love is beautiful and fast and consuming, but it’s also…painful.”

She sighed as she set the tumbler back on the table. “It kind of explains the disjointed nature of his conscious mind.” It was a form of depression, to repress memories.
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12-05-2018
09:34 PM
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12-05-2018, 09:34 PM
[In-Character] [Post #4]
With a side glance, Jax noticed that Elise was helping herself to a second serving as well. Good. Drinking alone was an awful thing. Especially if he had a world of maintenance to do because of it come the next day. But that was a while off, and for now he just wanted to drown whatever it was stuck on his mind.

Her words made him turn around. He loves her. So obvious, he thought. Then Elise continued, and Jaxon found himself looking at her for a moment longer than he usually would. He took another sip, then snatched the bottle up and moved to one of the open doors across from them. He motioned for her to follow. No, he really did not want to drink alone.

As he passed the threshold, he steered his way past a set of running servers to a quieter corner with two armchairs, a table between them. He dropped into one of them and put the bottle down on the table. “Does it?” he asked, referring to her last question as she followed him into this room. “Explain it to me”, he added, looking up at her. “Please”, an afterthought for courtesy. He downed the second serving of whiskey and helped himself to a third.

Jax could understand the concept of love. Not that he had any memories of his own since he got out from under the SGF to draw from. But somehow it was something he innately understood. But psychology was not his forth. Jax was certain he could dig something up in his memory banks somewhere but right now he did not want to. Sometimes, even he did crave human company. Jax was somewhat surprised to find it in Elise. And yet, he could not help feeling more connected to her than most of the other mutants here. Despite his having the gene and her not, he felt closer to a baseline human at times than anyone in the theatre appeared.

“I understand love. Its concept. But I have no active memory to draw from.” Jax let the liquid in the glass swirl, not looking at the woman in the room. He was in thought. Watching that gut-wrenching video again. “To see them so violated …”, he added, knowing that to an extent the same had happened to him. Just that he kept the details to himself. Jax was glad that no damned video of his time at the SGF existed.
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12-06-2018
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12-06-2018, 03:21 PM
[In-Character] [Post #5]
Jaxon stepped away from the counter and she frowned, wondering where he was going. It honestly wouldn’t surprise her if he left her standing there in the middle of a conversation to do something else. Like a robotic raccoon; ooh shiny. But then he seemed to hesitate, glanced back at her, and gestured for her to follow him. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to tell her legs to work, so she reached for her glass, took a sip, and mentally commanded her body to follow suit.

They turned into one of the rooms with a slightly ajar door, passed rows of servers that she wanted to poke, and to an odd little corner with a table and a pair of chairs. She couldn’t help but guess about the location. It was quiet, for the most part, tucked away from prying eyes. Like a tiny little escape. She watched Jaxon sit first and tried to read him, but he gave nothing away, just a simple question that she struggled to catch back up with. When she rewound the conversation in her mind, she settled back into the proper stream of it.

He told her to explain it to him and she half frowned before he added an oddly cordial please, somewhat like a second thought to be polite. He tipped back the contents of his glass and then poured a third, and she glanced down at the amber liquid still in her own. Explain it to me. Love? Or the reason Scott’s mind was fractured?

The tip of her tongue rolled over her lower lip as she pondered where to start. He pointed out that he understood love, or the concept of it and she struggled not to let her face reflect her thoughts. Of course, the concept. She once more found herself trying to imagine how much of him was still human, and how much was mechanical, machine, processing units. And how long he had been that way. He claimed he understood the concept, but not the sensation, and it twisted an ache into the center of her chest to think he had no experience or memory of ever loving anyone, or being loved, for that matter. In an attempt to curb the sensation she shook he her head and sat in the empty seat.

“It’s somewhat like an incomplete attempt at repression.” She ventured. “Repression is the mind’s attempt to protect itself from painful or traumatic memories. Overwriting them, rearranging them, or completely cutting them out of an individual’s perception of time. Sometimes they resurface, other times they do not without being coaxed forth.” She shrugged as she lifted the glass to her lips for another sip. “If Emma was in his head trying to shield him, he likely wanted to focus on her and not what happened, but her direct presence in his head could have been triggering.”

She recalled the recording, curling her thoughts around the exchange at the end. “He wanted her to stop him.” Her brows pinched and she sat forward, gently twirling her glass and the contents. “She told him she would be with him, that he wouldn’t lose her.” She smirked. “She planned what she did, no matter how much it would hurt.”

Elise looked across the table. “That’s love.”
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12-06-2018
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[In-Character] [Post #6]
Jaxon looked at his tumbler as he waited for Elise’s response. He wondered when he had last gotten hammered. Drunk was not the word he was looking for. Of course the chips placed in his brain, replacing and adding to his brain function allowed his to discern the exact date and time. But he could cut himself off from that added capacity at will. And right now he did.

He contemplated his own nature in the light of the question he had posed, and in the things they had witnessed so recently. Was he human? Did he want to be human when being that meant one was able to do the things on that video to another human being? Jaxon could easily program his own failsaves. Protocols that would prevent certain actions. To anyone his actions would appear like conscious choices but Jaxon could automate them. He could, for example, prohibit the intake of alcohol. Yet, there was no real reason to do that.

So, virtually, he could eliminate the factor of temptation. Sometimes he wondered whether maybe that was why he had not sought companionship beyond the occasional one-night-stand. Without temptation was there really a reason to want? It wasn’t that he did not know what affection was. He did feel affection for those around him – especially Caitlin and Gabriel. There had been interest in mutants coming through the theatre. But never had there been more.

Had he fallen back too much on his bionic parts? Was it not much easier to be machine than to be human? Even understanding such things as non-verbal cues of any kind with an innate intelligence it was so much easier to see and assess these things when he just unhooked the human part of him. Because when he did not, he would feel what he felt now. Irritation, sadness, frustration and a sense of hopelessness. Was he himself not another example of the terrible things humans did to mutants?

Elise spoke up, attempting to provide an answer to his question. He could understand it if she put it this way. He had had his own experience with it. “And sometimes they do not surface at all”, he added more to himself than to her.

She went on, analysing what could be going on in Scott Summer’s mind. Jaxon nodded, taking another sip. “So it was … a catch 22”, he mused. “Damned if you do, damned if you do not.” He slightly pitched his voice up at the end, but did not really pose it as a question. It made sense. When Elise spoke next he could hear in her voice that she had shifted gears slightly, drawing her voiced thoughts from elsewhere. Possibly that video.

Silently, he watched her lean forward and then listened as she continued her explanations without looking at him. His gaze was fast on her, shifting from the side of her face, to her shoulder, her arm, the curve of her back, the strong lines of her legs – back to her face. “Sacrifice”, is what he said summing up what she had told him. Jaxon mirrored her sitting position, but he looked into his tumbler instead. “Love is sacrifice.” He knew all the stories. The tales, movies, songs, poems… nothing else moved humanity more than love. Well, religion maybe, but that was just another – possibly perverted at times – form of love, wasn’t it.

Taking another sip, Jaxon pushed at his bionic side. It was a little like going through these rooms whenever he ran a reboot. He would flip off every last machine by hand. Not because he did have the centralised switch but because it gave him a form of control. Just in the same way, he did so now. And while his bionic limbs and organs would remain functioning, it would lessen the ‘tin man spiel’ he had going so often, and would, at times, irritate people with. Paige Guthrie had mentioned it on many an occasion.

“Have you ever been in captivity?” He asked her, Jaxon’s eyes momentarily finding her face. “Do you know what they would do to you, as a sympathiser? And as the woman in possession in some of Tony Stark’s tech?” He wondered, was she on the SGF’s radar?
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[In-Character] [Post #7]
A half-hearted smile tugged momentarily at the corners of her mouth. “It’s all a little too romantic when you frame it that way.” Love was sacrifice at its most basic state. Willing to put the other person first, willing to let yourself be hurt and hide it away to keep the other person from knowing the concept of pain.

She glanced at him as he leaned forward to mimic the position she had taken and watched him, tried to gauge the depth his mind went to in order to analyze whatever she had offered. It was fascinating that he was somewhat like a living machine. ‘Somewhat’ being a cautious appraisal, he was…hybrid, as Beth had somewhat offhandedly referred to his mind. Where did the human merge with machine and which part was truly in control? She wondered if being such made it harder or made it easier to feel, or to choose not to.

Captivity, she bit at the inside of her lower lip as she contemplated the idea of being in captivity. At some point along the lines, she had realized that Tony had indirectly placed himself in such a situation, and by extension he had done so to her without making it blatantly obvious. But it had been nothing like being locked within a cell or held in a cryo chamber. It had all been wrapped in a pretty guise. When she looked at him, he was looking at her.

He went on, adding further to her apparent crimes. “He gave them to me.” She breathed. She had probed him with questions endlessly nearly every day once she had figured out what was going on, how the Sentinels had started evolving, becoming more aggressive, people disappearing.

The last memories she had of Tony Stark were a bloodied man calmly pressing her to leave. Even as she had yelled at him, demanded answers, begged him to go with her. He had been so damned calm even when he had had every right and whim to yell back in her face. She had watched it play out in his eyes, the urge to do so, to simply put a stop to her interrogation. Yet he had simply taken her by the arm and moved her towards that closet with that suit. Flash drive in hand, a few parting words, then he had ordered the suit to take her.

She had learned about his execution via a news channel in Halifax. Treason, sure. And she had never learned exactly what his crime had been.

“I imagine I would be executed for the exact same ‘crimes’ that they had reasoned for Tony.” She knocked back the red of her drink. “If I put up enough of a fight, it would be a bullet to the head, right?” At least it would be quick. Then she set the glass down on the table. If she managed to be taken, they’d likely torture everything she knew out of her. Locations, the make up of the suit Tony had forced her into, the access codes. Even she couldn’t break those. It kept prompting for Stark’s authentication no matter which roots she tried to cut through. She poured the glass half full, and then lifted it upward, swallowing the contents readily in a few deep swallows. There were things that she wanted to repress that her brain wouldn’t allow for.

“The Trojan Horse of Troy was deployed by the enemy.” She said, somewhat amused as she looked at him again. “Did you pick your codename?”
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12-06-2018
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12-06-2018, 08:49 PM
[In-Character] [Post #8]
Jaxon looked at Elise when she responded, telling him how Tony Stark had apparently given the suits to her. Her body language was like an open book, and he allowed what he saw to feed into what she was saying. There was tension, uncertainty … and then regret. Painful memories. Very painful memories. She paused and Jaxon wondered what it was she was seeing in front of her inner eye. It appeared it was something she had resigned herself to. She had accepted it, had played it over and over much like he was still doing with Scott’s and Emma’s video.

When she eventually continued, it was the word ‘execution’ that oddly enough made him flinch. He and Elise had encountered one another a few times, but never before had they spent much time together. Still, it did not mean that she did not somehow belong to this amalgamation of free spirits and rebel warriors that were holed up in the theatre. She was a part of this, and so was he. He did not like the idea of any part of this place being removed.

He watched, not without appreciation, when she knocked back the rest of her drink and then topped up her glass to about half full. Well, who would have thought? Elise was going to go harder at this than him. Jax, too, emptied his glass, and filled his again but again sticking to two fingers. He already knew that he would regret this in the morning. His body simply did not digest alcohol like hers would do. “A bullet is as merciful as they come.” Scott begged for Emma’s life before that lens that posed as his inner eye – the one that still played that moment over and over and over. A man so effectively broken than he was begging for them … her to take his life.

Jaxon swallowed, withstanding the urge to pull his robotic side back to the forefront. It would level the feeling of sickness, the hatred and contempt growing in his stomach. He would feel distance where now he just wanted to retaliate. He wondered about his own bionic components. The ones so often viewed as his peculiar quirk; possibly even a gift. In truth, they were something else. They were proof that the SGF would stop at nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Her question brought her out of the spiral, and he looked back up, feeling the heat from the alcohol now cursing his veins rise to his head. It had been a long time since anyone had last asked about his codename. The Trojan Horse. He did have rudimentary information about that time. Much had been blacked out, much like a redacted file. He knew his primary function, the idea why someone like him had been created. “They did”, he said, embracing the sensation of contempt as it shifted to the SGF in a manner that included what had been done to him. While he had so little recollection of it, one could only assume certain things given his abilities, his codename.

“I was built to be that Trojan Horse.” The alcohol was beginning to loosen his tongue. “I am supposed to run short cons, gather intel, run recon. Tactical unit, to be deployed at short notice.” He looked at her, engaging his visual projectors for a moment and making himself look a whole lot like Alex for a moment. The image didn’t last. The alcohol messed with the additional abilities he had through his bionics. When drunk, he basically reverted to baseline let alone for his original mutation.

“That is why I prefer Jax.” He shrugged, took another sip. Now his eyes remained on Elise, he had his glass still lifted to his lips, letting it sit there without putting it back down. He contemplated her. Who was she in all of this? How come she even knew this place? “I am over sixty percent bionic. I am equipped with a photographic memory. Literally. I still see the video footage looped endlessly, playing in the back of my mind. Everything a machine knows, I know. But I do not recall the school I went to, or who my first girlfriend was. I believe the knowledge is somewhere in my head. But I cannot access it.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, weighing her with his eyes. What baggage was it she came with? What memory of Tony Stark had triggered her reaction earlier? Jax found himself oddly intrigued. “Repressed memory?” He asked, doubling back to what Elise had explained earlier. “Never found the trigger though …”
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12-07-2018
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12-07-2018, 06:43 AM
[In-Character] [Post #9]
Of course a bullet would be the kindest death she could find at the hands of the SGF. She would do everything in her regular human power to make sure that was how she ended if it came down to that. She was well aware of the fact that they were equipped with ridiculously large and powerful machines that had been grafted with mutant abilities, but she could still put an arrow through another human and bait them into shooting her. She refused to be captured by them. So far, though, they still didn’t know who she was, thanks to Tony.

Jaxon drew her back, citing the origin of the codename, then, in that he had not chosen the name bestowed upon him, the alias, anyway. But it had been selected and assigned for the very thing it was meant to reflect. He had been meant to infiltrate. The way he pointed it out, named them as the perpetrators behind the identifier, something human in him pushed to the surface.

When he shifted his appearance to reflect that of Alex Summers, the tumbler slipped from her fingers and dropped the two inches onto the table with a light thud. She was not a fan. Thankfully, it didn’t last long enough for her to voice that opinion and it quickly shuffled away to leave him back as himself. The part of her brain that was sliding towards inebriation wondered if he could make himself look like her.

That was why he preferred Jax. She watched him lean back once more, glass at his lips, and she was aware of him watching her. Everyone watched her, it was something she had gotten used to in the passed weeks. The only ones that had little guard were the twins, and then the introduction of the younger boy. Four days prior, she had found herself instructed in the kitchen to stand still as the boys orbited a pair of spaceships around her before the younger had requested permission to land. When she said nothing, unsure if she was meant to, Tony had prodded her in the hip and told her she had to give Ben permission to land or he was going to run out of fuel.

Jaxon explained to her the percentage of his body that was bionic and she wondered why he felt compelled to tell her that, though she found the information of value. She wondered if it was the alcohol that prompted his lips to give him away. He had only show minor interest in speaking with her until he had called her to that ticket booth to view the video. And she still wondered why he had opted to ask her at all. She toted around a small tablet on occasion, but normally, she sat in the small terrarium that led would have led out into a garden that was overrun. No one ever sat with her, save Paige on occasion.

Photographic memory, perfect, she was never going to get away with anything. That meant he remembered everything he saw. Everything. And he couldn’t turn the images of Emma and Scott off in his brain. Everything a machine knew, because he could speak its language. He could be it, he could be a machine if he chose to be. Then he touched on his memories and the lack there of.

“I don’t know if you’re going to find it at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.” She commented as she regarded him. She hoped he was never fully machine, that he never let himself become fully such. When she tilted her head, her equilibrium tilted in tune. “Every memory has a trigger. Sometimes it’s a smell.” Like the perfume her sister used to wear. “Or a sound, a song.” The lullaby her mother used to hum to her when she was small. “An image.” Blood so red she wondered how Tony had been up on his feet at all. “Or maybe it’s a sensation, the ghost of what was once felt.” Like a first kiss.

“They’re going to go after her.” She side tracked for a moment. “To whatever compound they manage to pry out of Scott’s head to find her. You know they’re going to ask you to go, don’t you?” She smiled as she reached once more for the bottle and poured herself an easy measure than before. Her fingers set around the rim and she plucked it up, swirling it and the amber liquid within. “Sometimes it’s a flavor,” she rounded back again, “a drink, a piece of candy, cherry lip balm.” She took a sip and then look at the bottle somewhat from an angle. “Considering this bottle was missing at least a hand’s width of content when you pulled it out, I don’t think whiskey is your trigger.”
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12-07-2018, 10:18 AM
[In-Character] [Post #10]
Jaxon was slowly working his way to the bottom of the whiskey tumbler. The heat rising from his stomach was growing and he found it pleasant. With his bionic side pushed to the back, he no longer was held by his programming. He could be as impulsive as any human. The fact of the matter simply, that he did not allow himself to be. Few people knew.

Elise’s words cut through the pleasant buzz brining that surge of life to his extremities and his mind – no matter how irrational that was. He was not going to find the trigger at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. “Triggering memories is generally not what I look for in a whiskey bottle.” He tipped his almost emptied tumbler to her in a toast and knocked the remainder of amber liquid back.

Jax’s looked at her and their eyes met. With steady patience he held that gaze. He had never noticed the gentle line with which her nose curved. The well defined chin and high cheekbones. The milk-chocolatey colour of her hair framed her face nicely.

Elise continued, laying out for him how triggers worked. He watched her closely, how her gaze shifted with each aspect she counted out. And he wondered where her mind went as she spoke of these things. Jaxon had regarded Elise with the same eyes, he realised everyone saw him with. A figure, present for a certain purpose. Not much more. Only Caitlin and Gabriel would ever see beyond the machine and regard the man that still lived in his body. Even if Jax himself often pushed that part of him far to the back. Not being human was so much simpler at times. Before today, Jaxon had never asked Elise for assistance. How could a human help? A man half machine and half universal translator on top of it? Obnoxious, Jaxon thought. She had brought an invaluable detail to the table today: her humanity.

Elise shifted gears. And Jaxon filled in the blanks for himself – she was speaking of Emma Frost. He nodded. Yes, they were most likely going to go after her. “All paths lead back to Gamma-Xi for now.” Not just Emma Frost but also Katherine Odinson’s – she had mentioned to him at some point that Pryde was not the name she wanted to go by any longer even if her ID said otherwise and the simple fact that naming convention of the Asgardian names did not work like that – warpath was leading her there. “And I will go”, he said, his eyes still on her. They had not moved in the meantime. He found himself fascinated by letting his gaze trace the lines of this face.

Then Elise shifted back to the previous topic. Jaxon set his tumbler down, took the bottle and only looked away from her when he poured another two fingers into his glass. He put the bottle back, and now shifted in his seat, turning fully towards her. “I am not aware of anyone who looks for truth at the bottom of a bottle”, he rephrased what he had said before. “It certainly is not.” Alcohol was generally used to accomplished other things. And Jaxon was no exception to that rule. “If I drink, I drink to … forget”, he chose that term over explaining to her how he pushed his bionic side to the back. It sounded too technical, too not-human. And strangely enough, he realised there and then that here with her he wanted to be human.

“What is it you are trying to drown in whiskey?” He asked, straight forward and her eyes still on her face. She would feel the buzz by now. Maybe not as bad as him, maybe worse. He did not know how much alcohol Elise Hartley could stomach. Jax wondered who this girl was – someone who certainly find an easier way of living in this day and age. And instead, she had placed her faith with the rebellion … a rebellion that might just be fighting a losing battle.
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bury my heart next to yours


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