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Summary: Dr. Hank McCoy provides Mike with the opportunity to talk people's ears off.
Date: February 5, 2010
Log Title Robot's First Words
Rating: G
Xavier Mansion - Laboratory
Your typical lab. Beakers and burners, chemistry sets and, of course, the higher tech gifted to the mansion from the Shi'ar, much like the rest of the lower levels. This room is kept locked, only the professors can unlock it or the various substances that are locked into cabinets within the room.
Sometime last week, Mike had a visit from (pardon the mental image) A Certain Red-And-Purple-Helmeted Old Man with ominous magnetic powers. Finding it too inconvenient to wait for Mike to write answers, Magneto created a magnetically-operated voicebox (that he powered) which Mike could operate from the low-level surge of his metal-morphing power, a power that does nothing to his body while he's being a robot (which is most of the time). Mike gave it to his advisor, for study and stuff.
Hank has been dilligently studying the device, admiring the elegance of the design, and then creating a similar unit that -wasn't- made by the Master of Magnetism. Who knows, there might be some sort of magnetic virus built in to turn Mike into his slave, or a killer robot that's downright Pymian. No sir, not on his watch! The device he made is similar in size, and draws power in a similar manner (it also has a small battery in case of an emergency). At the moment he's seated at an electronics workbench and working on the finishing touches. Perched on his nose are a pair of reading glasses, and he's working with a very delicate tool in one hand, and the device in another while looking through a circular magnifying lens which has a light as the outer frame.
Jonothon came down with Mike so that the teen could talk instead of writing things out. Makes communication faster at the very least. Well, that and Mike might have needed Jono's access to get in here at all. Many places in the mansion are off limits for students without escort. «Hank?» Asking before they get too close. Sure Hank likely noted they were there at the door, he doesn't want to risk startling the scientist. That's not a wise thing to do in a place like this.
And, having gotten his "please come to my lab" email JUST as Mike was about to sneak out for a drive do his homework, Mike has trundled past Jono's room, because he DID need a passkey the first time. Stubborn elevator. NOT QUITE a vehicle either, of course so he couldn't just hijack it.
He waits patiently as well, only revving his engine very slightly … not something he does at all except when he's nervous. Wastes gas.
«Oh! Hello, Jono.» Not nearly as formal when telepathic, Hank finishes up what he's doing, and seals up the pocketwatch sized device. The original is in a sealed container made of high density plastic, and that stored in a cylinder, which is in turn in a safe. Lensherr would probably be amused, or insulted at the security measures taken. But Hank wants to study it further, there's some neat EM stuff going on there. Turning to face the doorway, he smiles. "Do come in, gentlemen. The dangerous projects are locked down."
«I brought Mike down.» Hands tucked in pockets, Jonothon wends through the lab to the blue, furry one. In lock down they may be, he's still careful. This place is mostly beyond him. «You make him something to speak with?» Mike did mention something, but the teen is nervous so Jono asks the scientist directly. A glance back to Mike shows that the Brit is amused. «Now you won't always need me around, mate.» And he bets everyone regrets that. This is the teen who forgets to pause between his words.
Mike answers, «IsItWorkingMayIPleaseTryItNow ….»> pause «Sorry. Do you think it'll work now, Sir?» No, not a bit excited. Still, though he wouldn't say it, he'll kind of miss having a reason to have Jono hanging around more often. Because, of course he'll have NO trouble using this one, whatsoever, right?
«Thank you, Jono…I should have thought of the fact he would need a pass to even enter the level.» Hank's a little irked at himself now, but the smile he turns to Mike is quite genuine. "Well, it passed all the tests I ran on it, though you might need a little time to get used to it. The device is designed to absorb whatever power it needs — a very small amount — from your own systems. It will essentially require you to use your power on a very low level, but sustained over time. And that will take practice." He removes the glasses, tucking them in the pocket of his lab coat, and then offers the circular lens shaped device to Mike. "Oh, I can add pinstriping if you like."
Pulling over a chair, or stool as the case may be, Jonothon flops down into it. He's been tired lately. Really tired. This isn't a bad thing though, and truth be told a good one. Means he's less dangerous. «It's no trouble. Me being around means he can talk too.» At least until Mike can talk on his own.
Mike nods, «How do I wear it? I made a collar in the auto-shop to cover the last one, cause it came loose when I turned too fast. Has my same paint and pinstriping, and I can carry my cell and image inducer in it. I am SO gonna freak people out now. They're all used to me being the mute robot guy with those cute paper notes.»
He places it against his neck at the place where his collarbones would meet, if they weren't simply hinted at in the chassis cover there.
"tttzzestkkkking aaawoouuun tddduuuuuu" «Urf.>
«Thank you all the same, Jono. I've been a tad busy and distracted. No excuse, but that's probably where I made my mistake.» Hank sends the mental equivalent of a smile to Jono. And then a real smile broadens for Mike in light of his enthusiasm. "Well, I just need to get the jaws of life and an arc welder…" He's -so- teasing the lad, and holds up a hand to forestall the flight reflex. "Forgive me. Ahem. Yes, well, the device has an affinity for your power signature, it simply need to be in contact with you for a while, a few minutes at most, and then it should be at full function. You'll just need to use your mutation to interface. Oh, the material carries a light magnetic charge and will adhere to your outer surface — but it is not likely to stay put if there's violent disturbances like high speed movement or combat."
«You really don't need to worry about it.» The Brit assures as he's apologized to. At the arc welder, Jonothon facepalms. «…He's nervous enough as it is.» Stop teasing, Hank! As Mike mutilates an attempt at speaking, the man suggests, «I know you're excited, but take it slow, mate. It could take you a little bit to get it right.» There's no rush! «Try something small to start with. Babysteps and what not.»
Jaws of life? Arc welder? Oh, ha, yeah, very amusing Sir.
No, that doesn't go on the link, this is not just a professor, it's the smartest of the X-Men, and Mike is not about to sass back.
«It was kinda funny,» Mike admits. «Trying again.» "Tttes-tinnngk wuun tuu t'ree" … the voice is still very robotic, but the pitch is now a closer match to Mike's own frequency and harmonics. That is if you extrapolate from his mental voice.
"Baby steps, indeed. I'd suggest starting small, and only after time working your way up to Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis." Hank smiles to Mike. To Jono. «Sorry, couldn't resist.» Probably should have. As Mike makes some progress, Hank takes out a widget, donning his glasses again as he takes some readings. "Mmm…it is a little out of synch yet, part of it might be that the device needs time to synchronize. Excellent work so far, you're getting there young man."
Jonothon motions a sigh at Hank. Privately to Hank, «Yes, you could have. The kid is fifteen.» Fifteen and doing surprisingly well with his list of issues. Then back to Mike he motions a hand. «Mate.. small words. Like Cat. Dog. Don't attempt sentences until you can enunciate.» This could take time, but clearly Mike is excited. Not that Jono can blame the poor kid at all.
"srkekeeekeekee" «OK, that was me laughing. Definitely gotta watch comedy in private until that gets better.»
He takes a different tiny disk out of his belt pouch. This one is the school standard-issue Student Image Inducer, issued to nonhuman looking students. It hasn't been configured, but Mike has a thumb drive with some images on it. "Mmmy ppaapp aa sentt mmee aa ffffyew uff maiii pikshtshuurs, tssso I kkan …" «Wow. That's kinda tiring. So I can configure the image inducer, and maybe make it respond to what I'm saying? It has a setting for that, right?» Of course, he added some OTHER pictures, because he only had three recent photos, and there was this actor who people said he really looked like.
«Probably.» Hank admits mentally, and then he nods to Mike. "Of course we can configure the inducer, let me get a programming cradle." A smile and then off he goes to rummage through a locked cabinet. "You're doing quite well, Mister Drakos. You will in time get used to the drain as you intuit how much power is needed, right now you're trying very hard, and so you're spending more energy than you need. Aha!" Hank holds up the cradle, then returns to the teen and the tepe. "This is also a charger, give me a moment…" He takes the inducer, slots it into the reader, then hits a button to synch them, the thumb drive plugged into it, and the pictures downloaded to the inducer. "It will run a fairly complicated algorithim to build the base image, from there you should be able to customize as needed."
Never having used an image inducer, if only because he felt them a cop-out at best, Jonothon settles back in his chair and lets Hank handle things. «I could almost understand that.» Amused that Mike is entirely ignoring his advice. Kids will be kids, and really, can Mike hurt himself here? Jono doesn't think so. Mangle words as you will! It's fun to watch.
Mike shrugs, and taps the metal on his hand. «I could buy a whole bunch of black leather but I'd probably overheat,» he says. and then considers the wondrous device.
"tt hiss wudd be tso nneit ffforr car paynttt." Mike bounces up and down a bit. Really rather animated, tonight. Maybe someone gave him high test again.
"Very simple really, it takes the various pictures, uses something akin to facial recognition software on steroids then composites them all into a base image the lad will be able to further customize." Hank nods. "Simple really." Yeah, for a super-genius. Though he did say the algorithim is complicated. "Funny you should mention that, Mister Drakos, I do believe some of the stealth technology on the Blackbird uses a similar code base and algorithim." A chuckle. "And you need to switch to lower octane."
«Why not use his school picture for the image? From before the machine I mean.» Helpful, Jonothon. He drags fingers back through his hair. Not talking a whole lot, but contributing here by allowing Mike do the talking for the both of them. Of course Hank could have already done that, but all this talk of algorithms is confusing the Brit.
Mike says, "Vlakk burddt?" What is this …blackbird … of which you speak? Eyes light up. Stealth technology? It MUST be a vehicle then.
And with that name, can it be anything but a … Stealth jet OMG.
Suddenly seeming no longer over-excited at all, Mike takes a fixed slight-head-tilt questioning expression, "Yuu haff a ddjett? Oh, thththtoosze wudd haf beeen takin nexxaewt wiiek." Hey, Improvement, he only sounds drunk. And robotic.
"That's an excellent idea, Mister Starsmore." Hank turns about to tap a few keys, downloading the pre-accident school photo into the device while it compiles. There's a few moments of it whirring, then a green light comes on. "There you go, all programmed. I also downloaded the standard clothing libraries as well, nothing too out there, jeans — t-shirts, even leather for a jacket if you like." He won't mention leather pants. "Basically anything you could think of, anything basic." A nod. "Yes, we have a stealth jet, a blend of Shi'ar technology and human, the Blackbird is modeled after the SR-71, though I'm afraid it will be some time before you'll be able to see it."
Sometimes you need someone in black to point out the practical solutions to things while all the brilliant minds are flying among the stars. Jonothon eyes Mike though for the interest in the jet. «The blackbird is very much off limits, Mike. No melding with it.» Ever. That's a bit too big of a jump for a fifteen year old. There's that stick in the mud being practical again. Trying to nip that idea in the bud. «The Blackbird is for Xmen use.» Well, not only that, but that's the easiest way to say it.
The thing has a wee little LCD screen, probably to make it look like an MP3 player should it be spotted. Mike sets it, selects clothing, and … that's just wrong. He looks a bit TOO much like that kid in the vampire love tragedy who grew fur, rather than the sparkling stalker. Still, he.. grins. Actually smiling, even if only in image.
"Awwzome. Thhankss dxxdxxxdddddd … Misstr MkkOy."
