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No? This one then, perhaps? Honestly. They should include a manual.

[It's just audio at first, muffled and distant, interspersed with the beeping of pressed buttons and the confused ramblings of a man far beyond his league with this kind of technology.]

Or a pamphlet of some sort at the very least. Maybe an explanation of my whereabouts. I don't suppose that would be too much to ask.

[How were you supposed to accomplish anything on this device? Where were the wires? ]

Is anyone there? Hello? I think it's on now. I believe it is. Sorry. I appear to be a bit lost. If you're there, please respond. My name is Charles Xavier and it is really very important I get back at once. The situation-

[There are a few more beeps from the buttons and a camera feed clicks on as well, aimed to the dirt and debris of the ground.]

Oh! Well, that did something. What is this little light for?

[The video jostles a little more and with another button press the entire feed goes dead.]

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[Well that's... actually not that odd of a question, comparatively.]

Standing on a beach in Cuba, I suppose. Why? Who is this?

I'm sorry, what? I think you may have me confused with someone else. I have never been a model.

Yes. I was hoping to get a better idea of where this was before venturing out.

[There's a moments pause at the mention of alternate versions and he clears his throat.]

It would seem I have already met him. I am not sure why he would hate you, but no, Erik. I do not hate you. [Even after the events on the beach as he remembered them. The echoes of that splitting headache still lingered. But he did not hate Erik. He did not even truly blame him. He was just disappointed. Both in Erik and in his own inability to convince him not to go through with it. Perhaps also a bit hurt by the lack of trust. But none of that mattered right now.]

I take it you know where those are located, then. Would you meet me here?

[ His hand shoots to his temple as soon as he feels a hint of mental touch. He doesn't have his powers, doesn't have any way to retaliate, but immediately his mind bristles with fury/fear/guilt, surges of emotions that Charles keeps locked away deep inside most of the time.

Barbed wire, mud, the flicker of life draining from a soldier's eyes. Keep out of here, I will not, I will not be powerless. ]

Don't. Don't you do that.

His feelings toward the 'me' he knows have transferred across.

[But that isn't important anymore. Not now that this Charles is here too. Already, he's starting to make his way back toward the ship, one of the few places he'd started to avoid since talking to the doppelgängers.]

The majority of us woke up there too. I should be about twenty minutes at most. [And a brief pause.] Don't go outside yet. It isn't safe.

[Starbuck's heading out towards the Alien ship, it'll take her a while on foot, thanks to her injury. She switches to audio. It's still public, though, so others will be able to hear her ranting.]

You're a frakking Cylon, don't bother trying to deny it. I saw the other guy. How many of you are here?

Edited (fixing because I can't read that the other Charles is using voice only durr) 2012-03-11 13:53 (UTC)

Hi.

[Yes, well done. Excellent start. Raven's trying to remember everything Erik Lehnsherr told her that first day, about the Charles and Raven from his world, how different things were. It's... overwhelming, to say the least, having that Charles right here in front of her.]

I, um. Hi.

[skjgbdfgkdfgb

Just clearing her throat and furrowing her brow, yes, look how collected she is now. So collected. The most collected.]

My name is Raven Darkholme. Though I believe you know that already.

Yes. I can't say how or why we arrived on the ship or why it crashed but here we are.

fuck, that's not even the right thing. [there was a charles a while ago that he met in a version of the world; seems like there's a whole bunch of hit and misses he's encountering in this reality, and shit's inconsistent as fuck. dimensions are weird business. some days, wesley gibson wishes he was a super intelligent astrophysicist instead of the best goddamned assassin in the world. but only sometimes.] but whatever. time is a stupidly inconsistent bitch. as for the name, you call me wesley. don't bother for a last name. i'm like madonna or cher. [wait does he even know those people. he tries to remember what erik told him which year he arrived at when he met him. 60's, wasn't it?] or -- fuck, you're probably missing the cultural joke here. this is sad.

[He sounds quite a bit incredulous when he responds.]

The ship. You mean a spaceship? Like Apollo 11?

[He nearly reels from the onslaught of emotions, and it may not be retaliation but it still catches Charles a bit off guard. What he does catch glimpses of surprise him even further. Nothing like the memories of his own life at all.

He does pull away from Charles' mind, but not immediately. He lingers for a moment longer, searching for some form of proof in the other mutant's mind.]

I'm sorry. I just- You can't be me. I mean. You are not me.

[Different memories, small differences, different lives. How could they be the same person? They merely shared a name and some genetic similarities. The other options were far more ludicrous than even that.]

Nothing that primitive. It is a long range spacecraft. Simply put it is massive. We've yet to discover the purpose of this ship but it is obvious it was meant from something quite important.

[Charles is frowning, not that Erik can see. He might hear it in his tone, though Charles tries to keep it even.]

I have no intentions of moving.

[Perhaps he was trapped in his mind somewhere? This could all be symbolism of some sort brought on by mental trauma. Staying connected to Shaw through his death may have affected his mind in a way he had not anticipated. Even that seemed a more logical possibility than some of the other options being provided.]

I really have no idea what you are talking about. I think you should take a moment to calm down.

[Maybe Cylon was a term for mutant that they had here? If that was the case, he could be dealing with a bit of a problem. Did the people who brought him here want him, or just mutants in general? That was a possibility. One he hoped was wrong.]

What is a Cylon?

[ And there are images, flashes: the exhilaration in Erik's eyes, a hint of blue skin from underwater, the image wobbly.

Further back: a dark house, the smell of wood-polish and then the acrid taste of Scotch on a child's tongue, sampled too warm from a glass where the ice has melted, his mother long since asleep.

Toy soldiers on a chessboard.

Charles' mind flounders and he shoves back at the telepathic intrusion, a pained why would you even want to see this, caught with strings of fear and anger and that feeling, that specific feeling of a mind slipping away into death that Charles has felt entirely too many times. ]

[He just cuts the feed, trusting Charles to keep to his word while he makes his way there. If anything else comes up, it isn't as though Charles needs this connection to reach him, so he doesn't see any reason to keep it active. Not while he needs to focus on getting back to the ship as quickly as he can.]

Of course I do. It was just a surprise to see you here as well. And you've done something different with your hair, I see.

[Well, she had been awfully concerned with her looks lately]

How nice. It looks lovely on you.

[He smiles, and it's genuine and natural and he wishes she were there so he could wrap his arms around her and forget all of this for a moment. Just be with his sister, and Erik, too. Now he had to find out what was going on even sooner. If this place was dangerous, then Raven would be in danger, too. And he refused to let anything bad happen to her.]

Are the others here, as well?

[The feed is quiet for a while. None of this makes any sense in Charles' head. The government was so far from developing anything like what he was talking about, as far as Charles knew. And aliens. Aliens?

Why would they want anything to do with us?

[As expected, the reference is completely lost on Charles and leaves him even more lost than he was originally. Whoever this is, they are confusing and apparently a bit unfocused.]

Well, Wesley, I am not sure what you were expecting, exactly, [Or what he was talking about. At all.]

But unless my memories have been tampered with [Seeming unnervingly more possible by the minute] I am quite certain it is right.

[You don't get to ask the questions, toaster.]

Oh, I'm gonna calm the frak down, pal, once you given me some godsdamned answers.

[She's hightailing it. Even though her knee still twinges heavily, Loki's magic has made it feel almost healed up. In fact, she doesn't need the crutch right now and just tosses it to the side to pick up later. Hopefully, when she gets there a few minutes later, he won't have gone into hiding.]

Edited 2012-03-12 22:37 (UTC)

[Charles pulls away abruptly, the last bits all too familiar to his own mind, and he's even more uncertain now. That was Erik, no denying that, and those memories-

Charles shakes his head, rubbing his temple, regret and confusion and uncertainty swirling in his own mind. He sends an apologetic wave of calm and then nothing, staying far out of Charles' head.

It was too much and not enough to piece together properly, but enough that he has to stop and just, stare. Because the mutant on the other side of this conversation is all at once him and not him at all. This had to be a trick on his mind.

Whatever the case, he's momentarily speechless, trying to make sense of what he saw.]

Me?

[Charles is utterly lost and confused, and he's already trying to place her mind among the others in the area to try and glimpse a better understanding because this does not make sense. Not at all.]

I do not have any answers at all. I only just arrived here. I am not sure what exactly you expect me to know. I do not even know where we are.

[And no, Charles has not hidden, mostly because in his current state is far more confused than he is worried or frightened.]

[As soon as she sees him, she has her sidearm out. She approaches warily. Her expression is dark, full of vengeance and just a little crazed. Careful what you say, Charles.]

Put your hands up where I can see them. Get down on your knees. How many of you are there? How many?!

[She barely gives him time to react.]

Answer me!

Edited 2012-03-12 23:16 (UTC)

[The sight of the weapon instantly has Charles' close attention. It also has him sending a brief, panicked mental message to Erik before he's in her minds, trying to determine what a cylon is and why she looks ready to shoot him at the slightest movement.

He carefully, slowly, raises his hands, though two of his fingers go instinctively to his temple to strengthen his focus and he sends a gradually rising wave of calm, safe, relax, not a threat her way. As riled up as she is, a simple nudge is not likely to do much, however.]

My name is Charles Xavier and I am a professor.

[He searches for information on Cylon's in her mind, and takes a slow, steadying breath. Having a gun trained on him by a crazed, ranting woman is not a comfortable position by any means, and until he can talk her down or stop her, he is going to comply, cautiously..

He sinks down to one knee and then the other, trying to keep his expression calm, his movements from betraying the full extent of his emotions, though he is visibly shaken. Careful what he says? Charles is always careful of his word choice. Clearly.]

I am a professor, not a cylon, whatever that may be. I have no idea what you are talking about or where we are. So if you could just lower your gun, we could discuss this like calm, civilized people.

[But if she tries to shoot him she will find her trigger hand very suddenly unresponsive. In this state, he is not sure how long he can keep a grip on such a determined mind.]

[Around 10 minutes later, Charles reaches out to Erik's familiar mind, with a brief and panicked message that disappears as soon as it appears.]

How far are you? Met a combative individual, armed and dangerous.

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