Danger Room in the early hours
By the time most people are getting around to stirring in their beds, maybe heading for the first cup of coffee, Calvin has been at the Danger Room for three hours. Its been the easiest time to reserve a time without interfering with the day to day affairs of the world.
The first couple were spent in historical recreations, so he could watch how supposedly familiar events went down in this world. He's taken dedicated notes on who's who here, who lived, who died, who's different here than he'd remember, trying not to get too much of a headache, while likewise trying to not fall over in shock - this world is really messed up. A quarter of the villains listed as active are imprisoned or dead, and have been for years as he knows them. Another eighth of them have reformed, and people he considers friends or at least co-workers.
The Kelly Pact never happened. The Morlocks were slaughtered. Blob doesn't write children's books, Warren doesn't run half a dozen charities. The X-Men have never been invited to the White House. The list goes on and on...
but Scott, Piotr and Ororo are still alive, the back of his brain keeps reminding him.
But Jean still isn't.
Two hours was enough of that. The past hour has been spent in balls-to-the-wall combat training, practicing using Betsy's telepathy and Nightcrawler's teleportation in concert, reading where someone was going to be, where they might leave an opening, and teleporting to precisely the right spot to take advantage. He's set the program to give him less than two inches of error on any teleport, or it marks an error. So far, its not going well... but that's why he's working so hard at it.
Enough that he hasn't even begun to notice the time.
The first couple were spent in historical recreations, so he could watch how supposedly familiar events went down in this world. He's taken dedicated notes on who's who here, who lived, who died, who's different here than he'd remember, trying not to get too much of a headache, while likewise trying to not fall over in shock - this world is really messed up. A quarter of the villains listed as active are imprisoned or dead, and have been for years as he knows them. Another eighth of them have reformed, and people he considers friends or at least co-workers.
The Kelly Pact never happened. The Morlocks were slaughtered. Blob doesn't write children's books, Warren doesn't run half a dozen charities. The X-Men have never been invited to the White House. The list goes on and on...
but Scott, Piotr and Ororo are still alive, the back of his brain keeps reminding him.
But Jean still isn't.
Two hours was enough of that. The past hour has been spent in balls-to-the-wall combat training, practicing using Betsy's telepathy and Nightcrawler's teleportation in concert, reading where someone was going to be, where they might leave an opening, and teleporting to precisely the right spot to take advantage. He's set the program to give him less than two inches of error on any teleport, or it marks an error. So far, its not going well... but that's why he's working so hard at it.
Enough that he hasn't even begun to notice the time.