Annie is far from a scientist, but ever since her conversation with Jessica over the synthesis of marshmallows, she has been drifting down to the lab more and more often. As with anyone around here, she needs to keep busy, and while she can't exactly be trusted to carry out her own experiments without major, potentially catastrophic repercussions, for now she is happy to observe and aid anyone who is in here working. For the time being, this is the closest she can get to continuing her education
( ... )
"Sorry," Hank says, startled himself by her sudden appearance. Now there's an unfamiliar girl to go along with the unfamiliar lab, but he's not any closer to figuring out what's happened. He runs through the list of chemicals that he'd synthesized for his serum in his head, but none of them have any hallucinogenic properties, especially not in doses as small as the one he'd had in the syringe.
The only other possibility Hank considers immediately is Shaw's teleporter friend, but as fast as he is, it would have had to be near instantaneous in this case. It's possible, but highly unlikely.
He sees her eyes fall to the ground and he remembers himself, bending to retrieve his sock and shoe.
"I'm not scared," replies Annie quickly, almost indignantly. It isn't something easily helped; as the youngest, in the study group, she often gets written off for being least experienced or most naive. It makes her touchy to say the least, and eager to disprove such misconceptions, so to illustrate how very unafraid she is, she takes a few steps closer. The toe of her flat clinks against something small, and she gazes down to spot the syringe.
Within an instant, her eyes are trained once more on the man, her gaze as intense and serious as she can manage. She points downward, demanding, "Is this yours? Is it - Are these drugs?"
He's still pulling on his shoe as he looks down at the floor, at the shattered syringe, and the pieces still intact, the ones that make it clear just what all that glass was before Hank so carelessly lost his grip on it and made the mess there.
"No, not technically," he clarifies, "It was meant to be less a narcotic and more of an antibiotic. Unfortunately, it turned out to not really be either of the two."
Though, come to think of it, he should probably try and take a blood sample as soon as possible, and perhaps he can determine just where the serum went wrong. He'd been sure that his calculations had been correct and that he'd identified and targeted the right markers.
But perhaps finding out just what's happened here is his first priority.
"And I'm sorry but... do you have any idea where we are? Is this still New York?"
Since his arrival in the underwater city of Rapture two days prior, Charles has opted to stay above ground, though he doesn't doubt he'll return there soon enough. Perhaps he's not as adventurous as some of the children, but he believes there are answers to be found in the depths below, and once he's secured proper escort, he'll seek them out. At present, however, there are other matters with which to concern himself, the status of his abilities chief among them. Yesterday, during his survey of the Compound's laboratory, he'd found a series of notes attributed to Dr. Moira MacTaggert (presumably not the same woman he knew at home, unless she changes her career path quite significantly at some point in the future), and it's with the intent of studying them further that he goes back this evening
( ... )
He hasn't been there long at all, but Hank has had the basics of the island explained to him: it exists in a sort of pocket-universe that no one can enter or leave voluntarily, people appear at random from different times and places, and the population has all built a community there. He's been outside, seen the edges of a jungle, but was ultimately drawn back to the lab, the familiarity of it more calming than he'll ever admit.
"Professor," Hank replies, his tone relieved now that there's a familiar face there. However random the general population may believe Tabula Rasa to be, there must be something to the fact that he's been there less than an hour before finding someone he knows.
"I see this place managed to pull you in as well."
"And Erik, too," says Charles, closing the distance between them to pull Hank into a brief, one-armed embrace. With the rate at which they're arriving, Charles wonders which one of their number might be next, and though he wouldn't wish for anyone to get stuck here against their will, particularly without their abilities, he can't help but hope it might be Raven, if not the Moira he knew.
"As well as a few others, though not from our universe," he adds, aware of the ludicrousness of such a statement, but comforted by the fact that it's far from the most outlandish thing he might have said about this place. "You've only just arrived?"
"Less than an hour ago," Hank replies, and glances down at his watch to confirm the fact. An hour since arriving, but somehow over fifty years between the night he'd finally been able to test his serum and now. It had been completely instantaneous travel through time, which, until now, Hank would have dismissed as virtually impossible.
Of course, there were theories, but theories and actualities are two different things entirely.
"Hi," Coraline said absentmindedly as she wandered into the lab and began to write down in her notebook. Coraline was midway counting things that are bubbling (four) when she stopped and turned suddenly. Straightening up to her full height Coraline turned and stared at the boy-man curiously. It was Tony except it wasn't because Coraline would know those eyelashes anywhere. Coraline had written poems about those eyelashes. "Hello? Um, I am allowed to be in here, aren't I? You're not doing some super secret experiment to find out the origins of something really cool and secretive are you? Like time travel or super powers or aliens or time travelling super powered aliens. Because if you are I can come back." Coraline paused before adding. "With questions."
Hank's attentions are currently occupied by a fascinating machine in the lab; as far as he can tell, it's capable of projecting three-dimensional images into an empty space, beyond just the basic orthographic projection of normal film projectors. It's ingenious, and if Hank wishes he could dismantle it temporarily just to see how it works. That's likely not a good idea.
He turns as a girl walks in and begins speaking to him, looking up from the large device.
"I don't know," Hank says, with a shrug of his shoulders, "I haven't actually been here that long, so you'll have to ask the lab head. Sorry."
"No, I mean do you mind that I'm here. The others don't tend to mind as long as I don't touch or break anything. Or ask too many questions, people tend to get this look on their faces when I do that." Coraline said before smiling as she noticed what he was looking at. "That's the Angelator. Angie made that, she was my dad's girlfriend for a while. She was really cool, she was an artist."
"It's not my lab, so it's hardly my place to ask you to leave," Hank replies, "I've only been here about an hour."
Actually he's expecting whoever runs this lab to show up and ask him who he is and to stop poking around. Though, Hank doesn't dread it, at least then he can inquire as to the nature of the work done here.
The lab may be much smaller than the one's he's accustomed to working in, but some of the technology-- namely the machine that has captured his attention now-- is fascinating.
Erik leans casually on the doorframe, his arms crossed over his torso as he regards what he believes, with all his being, to be Hank McCoy. Putting aside any issues that Erik has with the use of Cerebro in its infancy (using Charles as a test-subject), it's good to see another familiar face. He wonders if this is the promise of an advent of allies.
"Do you gravitate towards the laboratory no matter where you go?" Erik wonders casually. "Or is this simply your default imperative?" he's smiling, a bit gently, because he's rather happy to see him.
"I confess, this wasn't actually my decision," Hank replies, and when he turns around at the sound of a familiar voice, there's a pleased expression on his face. He's been told that there was a chance that someone he knew was already on the island, or would show up eventually, but he hadn't really expected it so soon. He'd barely even gotten his bearings.
"So, I guess this place got you too. Somehow, I'm beginning to think it's not quite as random as some of the residents might suggest.
"I've yet to rule out Shaw's interference," Erik says, jumping straight to business. He folds his arms over his chest and looks Hank over carefully for any signs that he knows something. "The timing was incredibly suspect and he'd already attacked once. Placing us here, out of the way, without abilities..."
"You're right, it's not random," he says sharply. "I trust that you're already looking into it."
It was kind of embarrassing, really, coming to the clinic to treat a burn. There were few things Hiccup knew with any certainty, but one of them was the forge and how not to get himself burned. He hadn't even noticed it until halfway through another tail modification for Toothless, he'd looked down and realized the back of his arm was red and blistered. And then, after noticing it, he finally realized how much it hurt and so he'd gone off, skulking into the clinic for bandages.
Hunting through the cabinets, Hiccup sorted through the letters he knew in English, trying to figure out whether or not a little tin said "burn" or not, and whether that meant it was something he wanted to put on his arm. Hoping someone might know, he peered down to the lab end of the clinic, only to see someone poking around as if he'd never been there before.
"Hey, sorry. You looking for something?" It seemed like a nicer way of asking if he was new.
Hank is carefully inspecting what appears to him to be an electron microscope. He's seen one before, of course, but nothing near as advanced. He supposes the sudden and unexplained jump fifty years in time is to blame for it, and the impossibility of the device existing in its current state is almost as intriguing as the device itself.
He turns as he hears someone address him, and while he's a bit disappointed that the it doesn't appear that he's the one in charge of the lab, it doesn't show.
"Sorry, I was just examining this piece of machinery," he says, and it's clear from his expression that the very existence of it delights him. At least if he's going to be trapped on Tabula Rasa, he doesn't have to be completely unproductive in his time there. The advanced state of nearly everything in the lab is encouraging in regards to him figuring out just where he's gone wrong with his serum.
"Yeah, when I first got here, I was all over the new stuff," Hiccup replied with an easy smile. "I haven't really been looking in the lab yet, though. Mostly the forge, but that's because I like building stuff."
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The only other possibility Hank considers immediately is Shaw's teleporter friend, but as fast as he is, it would have had to be near instantaneous in this case. It's possible, but highly unlikely.
He sees her eyes fall to the ground and he remembers himself, bending to retrieve his sock and shoe.
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
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Within an instant, her eyes are trained once more on the man, her gaze as intense and serious as she can manage. She points downward, demanding, "Is this yours? Is it - Are these drugs?"
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"No, not technically," he clarifies, "It was meant to be less a narcotic and more of an antibiotic. Unfortunately, it turned out to not really be either of the two."
Though, come to think of it, he should probably try and take a blood sample as soon as possible, and perhaps he can determine just where the serum went wrong. He'd been sure that his calculations had been correct and that he'd identified and targeted the right markers.
But perhaps finding out just what's happened here is his first priority.
"And I'm sorry but... do you have any idea where we are? Is this still New York?"
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"Professor," Hank replies, his tone relieved now that there's a familiar face there. However random the general population may believe Tabula Rasa to be, there must be something to the fact that he's been there less than an hour before finding someone he knows.
"I see this place managed to pull you in as well."
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"As well as a few others, though not from our universe," he adds, aware of the ludicrousness of such a statement, but comforted by the fact that it's far from the most outlandish thing he might have said about this place. "You've only just arrived?"
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Of course, there were theories, but theories and actualities are two different things entirely.
"It's more than a bit disorienting." he admits.
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No one wanted that. No one.
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He turns as a girl walks in and begins speaking to him, looking up from the large device.
"I don't know," Hank says, with a shrug of his shoulders, "I haven't actually been here that long, so you'll have to ask the lab head. Sorry."
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Actually he's expecting whoever runs this lab to show up and ask him who he is and to stop poking around. Though, Hank doesn't dread it, at least then he can inquire as to the nature of the work done here.
The lab may be much smaller than the one's he's accustomed to working in, but some of the technology-- namely the machine that has captured his attention now-- is fascinating.
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"Do you gravitate towards the laboratory no matter where you go?" Erik wonders casually. "Or is this simply your default imperative?" he's smiling, a bit gently, because he's rather happy to see him.
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"So, I guess this place got you too. Somehow, I'm beginning to think it's not quite as random as some of the residents might suggest.
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"You're right, it's not random," he says sharply. "I trust that you're already looking into it."
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Hunting through the cabinets, Hiccup sorted through the letters he knew in English, trying to figure out whether or not a little tin said "burn" or not, and whether that meant it was something he wanted to put on his arm. Hoping someone might know, he peered down to the lab end of the clinic, only to see someone poking around as if he'd never been there before.
"Hey, sorry. You looking for something?" It seemed like a nicer way of asking if he was new.
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He turns as he hears someone address him, and while he's a bit disappointed that the it doesn't appear that he's the one in charge of the lab, it doesn't show.
"Sorry, I was just examining this piece of machinery," he says, and it's clear from his expression that the very existence of it delights him. At least if he's going to be trapped on Tabula Rasa, he doesn't have to be completely unproductive in his time there. The advanced state of nearly everything in the lab is encouraging in regards to him figuring out just where he's gone wrong with his serum.
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