18292/Her Birth Name Is Heather Tucker

Her Birth Name Is Heather Tucker
Date of Scene:	12 June 2024
Location:	Greymalkin - Near Earth Orbit
Synopsis:	Cable allows Polaris and Madelyne Pryor aboard Greymalkin to talk to the captured Mutant Liberation Front member Tempo. Together, they manage to overwhelm the effects of Stryfe's mental tampering long enough to get through to her for just a moment before having to withdraw.
Cast of Characters:	Cable, Lorna Dane, Madelyne Pryor

---

Cable has posed:
Space, the Final Frontier.

Of course the Brotherhood is no stranger to some of the advantages that come from maintaining a base off the surface of the glittering gem of a planet that hangs below, slowly roating away. For one, it gives anyone a slightly different perspective on things. It also does absolute wonders in keeping unwelcome visitors at bay. Most people find it fairly difficult to pop by when the place in question is two thousand or so kilometers above the surface of the Earth.

Low Eart Orbit might not sound all that far away -- and in many respects it is not -- but it is still a pain to traverse for most people.

That difficulty is magnified significantly when said orbiting structure also happens to be cloaked by technology distinctly not from this time period. One might think that Cable likes his privacy. Or that he is paranoid. Maybe both.

There's probably some truth to that, though he might argue cautious, instead of paranoid. Po-tate-oe, po-ta-toe.

While he has called numerous places on the globe below home -- Madripoor at the moment -- Greymalkin remains his refuge. His armory. His biggest single advantage in the war he fights with goals that he keeps, at least to most, inscrutable.

Today though he is making an exception. One that he has rarely made to anyone not a part of X-Force. Why? Perhaps a measure of trust to the Brotherhood. Perhaps because all mutants, regardless of their outlooks have a stake in dealing with the Mutant Liberation Front.

Or maybe he has decided that Stryfe is just that dangerous.

If he has decided that he might have good cause. The MLF's leader has revealed himself to have both a knowledge of the time stream and the technical know-how to access it. Which might explain that in the aftermath of assault on the CERN Large Hadron Collider, Cable has absconded with their prisoner. The mutant known as Tempo.

It might also be why he is about to bring two somewhat unlikely individuals into the rare circle that even know this place exists.

"Professor, bodyslide by two. Designated coordinates," he says quietly to the stations A.I.

That gulf between the Earth and the cloaked station might be unassailable by others. But the technology onboard reaches out over that gulf and in mere moments his guests are fading into existence in front of that vast backdrop, the viewport looking out over the world below.

Lorna Dane has posed:
EARLIER

    > I'd like to talk to Tempo, with a guest. She's a psychic.
    > She looks an awful lot like Jean. I don't know why, besides the obvious. Please don't be weird about it.
    > What is your favorite cookie BTW?

NOW

Two bodies slide aboard Greymalkin in flashes of shimmering light. One's decked out in a few tones of shimmering green-- the same ensemble she wore during the CERN mission to begin with, one of her more casual, Queen-coded outfits derived from her time as a superhero.

The other-- well. Lorna's clutching her hand gently when they appear, offering a measure of support to the woman who outrage brought to her doorstep from gods only know where. Alaska, sure, but past that--?

Who knows?

What she does know is that Madelyne is still new to this stuff. She's only seen limited action so far; mostly, she has been afforded the luxury of settling into life on Genosha and/or the Asteroid, as she sees fit, and given space/support with learning to get her phenomenal, familiar powers under some semblance of control. "Thank you for agreeing to help," Lorna tells the red-haired mutant as she gradually withdraws her hand and keeps a careful eye on Maddy, ready to reassert the fullness of her supportive presence at a moment's notice if the sheer scope-- the magnitude of not only the space, but the technology on display unsettles Madelyne.

It's certainly got her senses running wild, skimming over exotic metals and swimming semiconsciously through strange energies.

"I know this is-- I mean, a LOT. All of it... but getting people out from under Stryfe's thumb is critical," she softly continues. "He's a danger to ALL of us-- ESPECIALLY if he's comfortable with stealing people's loyalty. Just-- you lemme know if you need anything from me, alright?"

And with that, her attention turns to Cable. Emerald heels clack across the ship's floor as she approaches him, hand extending for a smiling greeting. "And thank you," she says, at more conversational levels, "for agreeing to let us up here. If Stryfe's-- Magneto found an implant in Paige Guthrie's brain," she hisses, eyes narrowing briefly. "That's a level of technology I'd rather have all the help I can get with."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne has been splitting her time between Genosha and the Asteroid. So, honestly, this place is only a -little- weird. The tech level is a bit wild, but, well, been in one space fortress, you've been in them all, right? Some things are easier to practice on the Asteroid, others on Genosha. Besides, she's been doing her time in the psychic lagoon, helping out as she can. She still doesn't think she's ready for actual field work, but this should be fine.

The redhead materializes in with Lorna, one hand holding the queen's, the other a nebulous pink box of cookies. She even manages not to stumble. She's not dressed regally, but smartly. A black pencil skirt that goes to just below her knees with grey tights under it, sensible heels, a black blazer and a leaf-green blouse under it. She looks like a teacher. Or a cop that doesn't have to run after perps. She smiles lightly at Lorna, her red hair pulled into a ponytail swaying behind her. "I'll be fine. This is weird, but not...world shaking."

She follows the queen, box of cookies held in both hands. She feels a little out of place, but then again, she's been in worse spots.

Cable has posed:
"Welcome to Greymalkin."

Cable isn't exactly bit on the social nicities, though he seems to have learned to play nicely when it is appropriate. Or when it suits him. And it seems to suit him today

It probably helps a great deal that Lorna was so useful at CERN. That they wouldn't even have a prisoner -- no matter how apparently hostile she might be -- if it wasn't for the Queen of Genosha. That alone would give her a stake in all of this. A seat at the table. The fact that she might have the tools to get through to their captive at her disposal also likely has something to do with Cable's outlook.

Clearly he has determined that Stryfe is a big enough threat that he needs to confront the man and his organization. And once the future soldier decides that something requires his attention, well, he can be rather ruthless in pursuit of attaining those goals.

No matter how it means allying with.

Turning to the redheaded woman, the grizzled warrior simply dips his head in welcome. If his eyes linger it is only for a brief moment. No mention is made of what she is to him -- at least in thetime he comes from. It has already become very clear to him that this isn't really his past.

That doesn't mean that he can't fight to see that this reality's future is better then the one he comes from.

The room itself is not that expansive, relatively small and confined as if it is very much intended to be a command module operated by one or two people only. Most of the surfaces -- chairs included -- seem to be made of some slick-appearing, seamless metal and while the viewport in the bulkhead offers an incredible view of Earth below, the room is otherwise rather devoid of any sort of decorations or finishing touches.

Functional and efficient. Much like it's apparent Commander.

The room is also, apparently, without any entrances or exits.

"Hank, please go see that the prisoner is prepared for us. We will be there shortly," he says casually and a compact droid rolls out from where it has been waiting before one of those chairs, moving towards one of those same walls. Cable gives a slight gesture and the wall almost melts like it is liquid, a circular gap appearing there and revealling a corridor beyond that 'Hank' continues to roll down, disappearing around a bend even as that seemingly liquid and shimmering wall simply seals itself back up again.

"That fits with what the Professor's scans have managed to gather up as well," the mutant soldier says with a brisk nod for his guests, motioning towards the chairs nearby. Not tht they will be hear long. The view is nice, but it isn't what they came for.

"Our scans have picked up a similar device in the woman called Tempo as well. Highly advanced," he says, expression tightening just a little. Very advanced indeed, since it seems to come from technology that Cable is passingly familiar with. Technology that shouldn't exist in this time.

"Stryfe has demonstrated extremely powerful telekinetic powers. It would also seem that he is a telepath of considerable strength," he continues quietly. Nothing not already shared with Lorna in the quick debrief at CERN. But useful to reiterate. And for their new guest. "I have some gifts in that area as well, though unfortunately more limited then this terrorist it would seem," he conceeds. Such is the cost of the techno-organic virus that constantly seeks to overwhelm the psychic defenses that are pitted against it to keep it under control/

"Which is why I'm pelased that you were willing to come along as well Ms. Pryor."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Gently, Lorna takes the pink box between her hands, top and bottom. Maddy gets a small, grateful nod for carrying it in her stead as she lifts it from the psychic's grasp, then turns back to the Commander. The name gets an instinctive double-take, settling on the drone-- and flicking, inevitably, towards the wall that ripples out and in of being. She's still squinting there when she accepts a seat, her higher senses darting curiously across, through those seamless surfaces.

"It took Magneto, an Omega-grade Telekinetic, and--"

Wait, did he say 'The Professor's scans'--? Bemused green eyes finally return to Nathan.

"-- uh, well. The Professor," she utters, tentatively, "keeping Paige calm to remove the implant from her brain, and--"

Briefly, those eyes flick down and away as her tongue plays along the inner edge of her teeth. That she missed it in Paige to begin with, confident as she was that any brainwashing done was purely psychic-- that it took Magneto to remove the implant, to boot--

For all that she makes a quick and game recovery - popping the lid on the cookie box and offering it up to Cable - it eats at her, hungry enough to echo even if it doesn't show all that clearly.

"I don't think I have it in me to unmake the device, the way that he did," she continues, half a notch lower but otherwise even-keeled. "Which is why I was hoping to pull some intel from her at a minimum, while keeping her contained until we can set up a session..."

Every cookie is freshly baked. In fact, as soon as she popped the lid, the distinctive smell of decadent cookies pulled directly from the oven began permeating the cozy space, as if one or both of them were just wearing oven mitts minutes before arriving. Every cookie's studded with thick, craggy deposits of chocolate ore, dominating their broad, golden-brown surfaces and waiting to melt on tongues and fingertips. Every cookie's adroitly walking the razor's edge of crisp and gooey.

"... or figure out a Plan B that won't kill her. I'm-- not Magneto; Madelyne's not quite Quentin Quire. But you have tech we can barely dream of," she indicates with a broad wave that inevitably ends on Schroedinger's Wall. "And neither of us is powerless," she ticks off, returning her hand to the box, "and chocolate happens to be a dopamine catalyst. Maybe we can do something with all of that; maybe we can't... ... but either way, we owe it to her, and all the rest of these people Stryfe's fucking with to get what we can and save her."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
The whole liquid metal thing is interesting. Her head tilts as Hank the Robot comes out of his hidey hole and trundles down the hallway. It's cute, in a way. She lets Lorna take the cookies without complaint, taking the offered seat primly. Honestly, doing anything -not- primly in a pencil skirt is a trial and a half.

For the moment, she just listens. She's vaguely aware of this stuff, having gotten the basic rundown before they were teleported in. She would be furious to be compared to Quentin Quire if she knew who he was. If she knew her full potential. There's an inkling. A tickle in the back of her mind, but getting good at this stuff takes time, or forcing. She's working on a hybrid, and it's not working as great as she hoped.

"I'll do what you need me to do, but until about a month ago, I was just a cargo pilot. I've been learning and training, and I'll do my best to get what we need without hurting her, but," she says with a shrug. She at least has the grace to look apologetic. "Sometimes things happen."

Cable has posed:
For all that this outpost seems to be sleek and highly advanced, it is also extremely sterile.

The fact that his little helper droid appears to be called Hank might add just a touch of humanity to the place, some sense that it is not an entirely stark and cold base, but a sort of home as well. Just those cookies coming out, the scent of them filling the room when that box is opened gives the place at least a slightly more comforting feel to it. Makes the room less sterile. Slightly

Looking at the mountain of a man, he definitely looks like he would be more at home with a field ration in his hand. Maybe some sort of grey, tasteless paste. Still, Cable dips his head in silent thanks and plucks one of the cookies from the container. Politeness? Perhaps. At least a few people have caught him hauling around small packets of animal crackers in the various dimensional bags, backpacks and briefcases he sometimes uses to haul around his arsenal.

Maybe the solider has a big of a sweet tooth.

"We might not be able to extract it," he conceeds, though he is quick enough to add that qualifier, "Yet." He does not sit, though he does move to stand behind one of those chairs, laying his hands on the back of it. "The device has a small cloaking field within it. It makes it virtually impossible to detect without someone with the gifts of your father. And," and at this Cable's lip curls ever so slightly, "Mr. Quire. But this base does have access to certain technology not available to," and again he pauses for a moment. He would have said anyone else, but perhaps Stryfe has proven that is not entirely true. "--to many others. The Professor's scans," and he gestures with a flick of his head towards a nearby console, seemingly indicating the station's A.I. instead of anyone else, "picked it up."

"That might give us an opening. Though it is no sure thing. Even with my tech, your gifts with electromagnetic fields and Ms. Pryors psychic abilities. Perhaps simple human kindness will tip the scale," he says, head bobbing towards the cookies. Chances are Cable hasn't tried plying her with sweets. It's... difficult to imagine that."

"Just be warned, whatever Stryfe might have managed to do to Miss Guthrie, consider that he has access to Tempo's mind considerably longer. Any conditioning she has undergone is likely to be more... formidable."

And there it is, laid out for them. Just what they're dealing with.

Again that wall behind the mutant soldier starts to melt away, forming a circular opening into the passageway beyond and a voice chimes that sounds suspiciously like Charles Xavier. << The interrogation room is prepared as you requested Nathan. Hank, Bobby and Warren are in position to monitor her responses and feedback metrics, >> comes that calm voice, only a faint aritifial note preventing it from sounding real.

Cable merely turns back to his guests. "Shall we?"

Lorna Dane has posed:
Oh.

The Professor.

Curious eyes dip from taking another glance at the console, back to Cable himself.

And Hank, Bobby, and Warren.

"... yeah," she exhales, offering the box over to Maddy, "let's go."

She'll fall right in line behind Cable when the Time Commando's ready to lead the way. The whole way, her attention's mostly on sneaking the least conspicuous looks at the psychic redhead who's still finding her way -- still burning hot with a desire to learn, and brimming with unpredictable energy as a result. She did offer, "You'll do your best, and that's what matters," as assurance when it was time to set off, squeezed the smartly dressed psychic's shoulder as they passed through the vanishing wall-- but otherwise, she's too focused on bracing for the frustratingly impossible for doing much chatting.

And, of course: sneaking glances at the 'Jean' to Hank, Bobby, and Warren.

"Do we know anything about her? Besides her powers, and-- you know," she eventually asks Nathan, circling her hand through that brief gap. "Her. Maybe Madelyne and I could mute the signals Stryfe uses to communicate with it, bleed off some of its power to weaken the immediate effects-- being able to actually SEE it, the way its circuitry's working, it would at least help in terms of doing all that cleanly," she goes on to posit without waiting. She's getting there; she's tapping a finger to her bottom lip and everything.

"If the implant's out of play, then it's us against the conditioning itself-- and if we can come at it with some understanding of who we're talking to, it would help."

(See?)

"... it's just," she continues, voice falling into a concerned murmur, "How does this thing work? Will she be able to think at all without it--?"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne follows silently, listening to Cable and Lorna discuss things that, honestly, are beyond her. She's here to do psychic thing, not deal with hypertech. Hopefully the gizmos here and Lorna's own powers can handle it.

Her heels click lightly on the metal flooring as she follows, shaking her head a bit at the names of the robots. She's read some stuff. The voice of the AI goes entirely over her head.

"Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

Cable has posed:
\Clearly it would seem that Cable -- or whomever is responsible for this place -- might have had a few quirks. Certainly it seems hugely unlikely that the seeming naming convention is mere coincidence.

But Cable hasn't brought them all this way to provide insight into his own unique history. Knowing anything about him it isn't too hard to figure out the order of importance he places on the forthcoming effort.

The grizzled soldier is fighting a war. In war, information can be king. In war, casualties are inevitable. He would like what Tempo knows. He would prefer that she be alive at the end of it. But right now, she's an enemy. And it isn't hard to get the sense that the Geneva Convention doesn't exactly exist wherever, whenever he comes from.

But he's not unreasonable either. No fool. The best chance for him to get what he thinks is necessary is to give them a chance to accomplish what they think is necessary. It's not often that Cable has the opportunity to try and indulge in 'everybody wins' scenarios.

But hell, he'll try anything once.

Leading out of the command pod and into that seemingly featureless passage way that is every bit as seemless and glittery as the room they just left, the light seems to come from the metal itself, a glow that gives them plenty of illumination to see by but no immediate source discernable. And when all of them are out of the pod behind them, that wall seals up, leaving noting but bare metal at their backs. As if the room had never been.

"I should be able to help you Ms. Pryor," the white-haired man says with a nod in her direction. The featureless passage, that seeming glow that just comes from everywhere, it could make everything a little disorienting, but it doesn't seem to bother Cable as he leads the way with that determined stride. "I don't have the power at my disposal to necessarily do what will be necessary. But I do have the training, experience and discipline to help guide you," he says quietly.

Which is not exactly the natural order if one were to dwell on it. Parents are supposed to teach their children, not the other way around. But it is a unique set of circumstances to be sure.

Glancing back towards the green-haired sovereign, the soldier's expression tightens just a little, almost imperceptably. But it is there none the less. "Her birth name is Heather Tucker. Like a number of mutants who gained their abilities without a support system like the Xavier School or your island nation, her story is not exactly a happy one," he says, voice controlled as if reciting from a report.

Reaching her is not going to be easy," he warns. "While Stryfe has shown himself willing to put his psychic abilities to work everything that I have been able to gather says she is one of his first adherents. She believes, foolishly or not, in whatever vision he has been selling her. And he has had considerably more time to reinforce that belief then he did with Miss Guthrie," he points out as he comes to an abrupt stop, turning to face one section of the wall that looks no different from the rest.

"Your plan is workable, Ms. Dane. But before we proceed I have to warn you. I have... seen this technology before. But always in the aftermath," he continues, a grim note hanging in those words. Aftermath is rarely indicative of anything positive. "The fact that your father was not only able to detect it, but remove it says a great deal. Because in my years, every other one of these devices I've seen has come out of the head of someone no longer breathing," Cable states bluntly.

Then the wall in front of him melts away in that now familiar fashion, creating a circular entrance to the room beyond. The 'Hank' bot has seemingly been joined by two other nearly identical looking droids that putter about, darting amongst the control stations. A trio of seats -- just like on the command deck -- raise out of the floor, all sleek lines and seemingly made out of the same material as the bulkheads.

And in the center of the room a be

Cable has posed:
beam of bright light shines -- from floor to ceiling. Hanging there within, without any seeming restraint, is the woman that they have come to see.

Lorna Dane has posed:
"... maybe that'll work in our favor," Lorna decides after holding her breath for a tense, uneasy beat. "How might YOU feel if the man you trusted, believed in, followed without question decided to put a chip in your brain...?" she asks of Nathan and Madelyne alike, sweeping her eyes between the time-lost child and the echo of his mother. "Something that could just fuckin' kill you, when it's not making you pliable," she utters, falling towards a growl as she leans against the wall ahead of them.

"Personally, I would be pissed... but I'm not Heather. So: we'll see. As for the chip itself, I... if we have to leave it until we can assemble the right team, then so be it; I want to prioritize her life, here."

She might not be innocent, after all, but being duped by an ideologue shouldn't necessarily earn one a horrible, brain-melting death.

"... and maybe saving her'll help her understand who really has her best interests at heart," appends a second later, quietly allowing the more pragmatic, mercenary facet of her reasoning shine through. Cable is a soldier; Madelyne is...

"We'll pull out if YOU need us to, also," the Queen tells the clone, turning thoughtful and wary eyes the redhead's way.

Madelyne is vengeful and innocent; deadly and wounded; powerful and novice. A study in contrasts wrapped in an eerily familiar package, stoking protective instincts just by being.

Following a quick squeeze of the younger psychic's hand, Lorna pushes away from the wall-- just in time for it to open up and show them the way to Tempo. Walking past the drones, she strides right to Tempo-- close enough to place her hands on either side of the captured mutant's face, if the restraint field will allow her to, and leaning towards the very edge of its radius if not.

"How are you doing, Heather?" she wonders, low and deliberate. "I'm here -- WE'RE here -- because we need your help," she admits, "and more importantly: because YOU need OURS. Until at least one of us gets what we need from the other... you are now, officially, my number one priority. Do you--"

Beat.

"-- can you talk--"

She turns her head towards Cable, back to Tempo-- double-takes--

"-- she can talk, right?" With an apologetic frown, she turns back to Heather again.

"Anyway-- you're stuck with me for now." Another, brief pause.

"-- and you can tell me to fuck myself, assuming you can," she quietly allows, "because it's only fair you get it out of your system before we start."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Maddy's heels click on the metal floor as she follows through the hallway. She's felt overdressed since she got here, she probably could have gotten away with a far more casual look. Then again, sometimes it pays to be professional. Whether this is one of those situations, she won't know til later.

She smiles lightly at Lorna at the squeeze of her hand, thinking at her. <I'll be fine.> She's sure she'll be fine. Whether she can get or do anything useful is the question. While Lorna approaches and Cable looms, Madelyne takes a seat. She starts her breathing exercises, inhaling and exhaling slowly in a rhythm. She doesn't need to do these to use her powers at will, but in situations like this where precision and power are both going to be necessary, she needs to focus.

"I think I'm ready whenever you are, ....Mister Cable?" A beat. "Mister feels weird on that."

Cable has posed:
"Just Cable's fine," the future soldier replies briefly, not breaking that facade of quiet intensity that he seems to wrap himself in almost constantly. Which might be no mean feat, given the sheer, ludicrous undertones that resonate in this entire situation.

But it seems that he is pretty well practiced at keeping little things like basic human emotion at bay. That probably comes from fighting a near hopeless war for decades.

Once the redheaded telepath is settled, Cable gives a brief glance towards those droids going about their business, monitoring those inscrutable panels that seem to have a steady flow of information passing over the assorted screens. Much of it verges on the incomprehensible, but at least some of it is basic biometric data.

Stepping forward, the white-haired warrior of the future stops just short of joining Lorna in front of the dark-skinned woman who hangs there, feet a good eighteen inches off the ground. "She can talk," he says quietly, answering his guests query.

Of course, having the ability to do something and the desire to do something are two very different things. From the moment that they have entered the room Tempo -- Heather Tucker -- has stared at them. Glared at them with the fixed intenisty of a fanatic. One determined to give their enemy no mercy, no quarter. And absolutely no advantage.

Only when Lorna steps forward does her focus shift a little, settling on the other woman, a brief flicker of anger, defiance settling there on her expression. Oh yes, she recognizes her. She knows just who it is that managed to capture her, despite all her best efforts.

And it looks like she might be holding a little bit of a grudge.

So she doesn't offer any sort of reply, doesn't volunteer any sort of information -- she doesn't even demand to be let out or shout obsenities at them. She just stares contemptuously at them, angry intensity lingering in her eyes.

Still standing just behind the green-haired woman, Cable murmurs, "Not easy," he reiterates. Just that, no more. He too is accustomed to giving his enemies no advantange either. Certainly not any hint of what his intentions towards them might be. His ultimate aims and goals -- when they are anything but bringing a stop to them. Preferably permanently.

Instead the grizzled warrior turns back to Madelyne, gaze sharp. But when he speaks, it isn't aloud. Instead his voice slips into her thoughts, shared only with Lorna. << This is going to take something of a fine hand, >> he begins telepathically. << You're going to want to dampen her emotions. The implant reacts to strong emotional states, >> he begins to explain.

Before Maddy can begin though, he continues with another warning, perhaps emphasizing just how fine a line they are walking here. << Dampen, but not surpress. The implant will also recognize if her emotional state becomes too numb and that could trigger it's built in defenses. >>

He doesn't specify just what those defenses might be. But there is that unspoken reminder that every other device like this he has seen has been plucked out of someone's brain -- after they're no longer alive.

Lorna Dane has posed:
The box floats above and to the left of Polaris because both of her hands are busy cradling Tempo's face between them.

<< Can you give us a holographic model of the implant? -- Can we connect my senses and the Professor's scans to get a composite picture of it? >> she wonders as her higher senses reach forth. With her eyes locked unerringly on Tempo's, the green-haired monarch breathes in deeply-- holds--

-- concentrates, utterly, on scanning the Liberator's brain for out of place signals or materials-- seeking the alien smell and feel of the aberrant and anachronistic across her perception. As a former student of Xavier, her mind's already open for friendly contact -- for communication, for coordination, she's listening; ready.

"I'd like you to do your best to stay very calm, Heather," Lorna eventually exhales, slow and soft. "You're pissed at me; you see me as your enemy, and I understand that. You had nobody there for you when you needed it the most-- when the world turned its back on you because it recognized your gift and feared it, there was no-one."

<< ... okay, Maddy... if you're ready to back me up, and keep her emotions contained... >> she thinks.

"Except for Stryfe," she whispers, lips quirking sadly. It's a performance, to an extent - a mixture of improvisation and rehearsed, refined strategy - but the sympathy in her eyes is entirely sincere. The performance is to break Stryfe's spell over her; what's fueling it is the outrage, the pity evoked by the very idea of someone like him, an outsider with violent designs, taking it upon himself to dominate vulnerable minds and use them as pawns and puppets in his mad games.

<< ... then I'm going to start telling her. >>

And with that, Lorna waits -- for an answer; for a signal; for a miracle from one of the many gods who thrive in their world -- until it's time to break the news:

"... but Stryfe is using you, Heather. Stryfe doesn't care about you-- at all."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne's nerves are heightened, but she can do this. She closes her eyes as the objective from Cable comes in. Breath in. Breath out. Slow. Steady. Calm. She reaches out to the presence she isn't linked with. Her telepathic strands gentle, but firm. She seeks the center of feeling, touching it, becoming familiar with Heather's feelings.

Then she turns them down. Fury and hate are dialed back. Pulled from burning wrath and bitter hatred to, well, mild annoyance and slight distaste. She briefly considers reaching in and tweaking further, but the device might notice. If Stryfe is as potent a telepath as they claim, he might have prepared for it. So she leaves that be for now.

Meanwhile, licks of green and violet psychic fire dance across Maddy's shoulders as he enacts her power and will against Tempo.

Cable has posed:
It is a tricky business to be sure.

The caution is probably called for however and as they begin, Cable moves from his place at Lorna's back, giving their prisoner one less figure to focus on, one less potential advesary.

Instead he moves over to the console where 'Bobby' currently sits, the droid rolling aside as he nears, moving to a different spot in the room. And leaving Cable there, scanning the constant flow of information. Not just for his enlightenment. But so he can share that information through the link.

Of course, even with that the grizzled soldier of the future still shots the occasional darting glance over towards the redheaded telepath that begins to manifest that little light show even as she works on suppressing the most raging and hostile of Tempo's emotional reaction, to dampen it down where possible and maybe leave the sovereign Queen of Genosha a small chance to reach out and make a connection.

No matter how tenuous.

<< Good, >> comes Cables simply assessment, monitoring that psychic intrusion as closely as he monitors the vitals sprawling across the console in front of him. << Keep it slow and light. I can only estimate just how sensitive the device might be, >> he addss, furthering that cautious note.

While doing that, he begins to funnel that information that the Professor's constant scans that the A.I. is performing back to Lorna, to give her a mental construct of the interior of Heather's brain. That alien metal is so very hard to detect, cloaked in technology far exceeding that which should be present on Earth today. But the white-haired warrior can show her exactly where to look so that even an absence sticks out as an irregularity. << There," >> that psychic whisper comes quietly.

The defiance doesn't seem to shift in Tempo, at least not at first, the line of her jaw tight, almost as if she is biting down on the sides of her cheek, using that pain to fuel her anger, that stubborn refusal to so much as acknowledge her captors. But as Maddy's telepathic fingers play in her mind, soothing away the worst of that anger, that hatred, reducing it all to a low simmer instead of a wild boil, some of that rigid discipline is drained away with it.

Hands clench at her side -- the first move she has made at all -- and she finally breaks that silence. "Shut up," Heather says, just a little anger creeping into her words, her tone, her voice. "You don't know anything about it," she adds, insistently.

The mention of Stryfe, of his lack of concern makes her brow furrow before it firms again. "You don't now what you're talking about. You have no idea of the future that he is going to usher in for us all," she says lowly, some of that fervent belief creeping back into her words.

Lorna Dane has posed:
"I'm sorry, Heather."

Inhale...

Polaris' eyes flutter until they're just about shut, shedding increasingly bright slivers of emerald light that glower off of Tempo's armor. The Professor's best reconstruction of the Liberator's brain and the monstrous technology embedded in it unfurls across her psyche and gives her a stable point with which to triangulate the real abomination in the real folds of the real, manipulated woman's mind. Brushing up against the field makes her teeth vibrate in their sockets; it teases her nostrils with bitter, acrid miasma; it slathers rotten egg across her tongue and dares her to keep pressing. To defy the superior, the inevitable. To look into the fire and be burned--

And so she does, homing in on the germ of negative space hidden beneath exotic repulsion, hands quivering on either side of the domed helmet.

"... but I'm currently looking at a device that's centuries beyond the very apex of what our technology is capable of," she whispers, fixing distant and narrowed eyes on Tempo's as best as she can. "It's tiny; it's hidden under layers of cloaking technology; it's lethal... and it's currently embedded in your brain."

Just as Lorna keeps Tempo's head clasped tightly, protectively between her hands, she spreads the metaphorical grasp of her electromagnetic psyche into a cage around Tempo-- around her mind-- around the device.

"To control you," she softly tells Heather as she readies herself to deny any additional incoming power access to the implant, the first step towards working inwards to bleed power from the chip itself.

"... even though you gave him your loyalty willingly... ... didn't you?"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne's breathing is slow and steady, the metaphorical hand of her powers a feather light touch on Heather's emotional center. Steady and active, not too high, not too low. This is difficult work. She's not an expert, finesse is -incredibly- hard. Still, she's managing. Sweat breaks out on her forehead, and without thinking, she takes off her blazer, draping it on the seat next to her, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse after.

Part of what makes this so hard is that she almost has to predict Heather's emotional state. What's going to set her off. Luckily, the telepathic link with Lorna gives her a fraction of a second, knowing what the Queen is going to say before she says it.

"To control you..."

Maddy exerts a little more downward pressure, knowing these words will make Tempo fume and rage if she wasn't there. She grits her teeth, gripping the table with the effort.

Cable has posed:
They are definitely walking the razor's edge now.

That tiny little shard of future tech is layered in all that complexity. Alloys that verge on the incomprehensible to modern science. But it relies on that same technology too. Relies on not being found. Relies on being keyed into the emotional state of it's host. And in this case they have both found it and have at least a degree of influence if not outright control over the emotional state of Heather Tucker.

But still, just one slip. Push to hard, alert it to their presence and just waht remains of the woman might not be worth saving.

If anything is left at all.

But with Maddy's fingers in her figurative head and Lorna's on her actual one, they are able to hold Stryfe's failsafe at bay, at least for now. Hold it at bay, but not a great deal more. Even with Cable's knowledge, even with his assistance and the advanced technology at his disposal, there are, it seems, still limits.

And if the efforts today aren't destined to pay immediate dividends, seeds are at least planted.

Those same images that the future soldier is able to send to Lorna, he is also able to slip into the fringes of Tempo's mind, giving her a glimpse of the truth. Just an inkling. A shadow of a doubt. She can practically see that little shard in her imagination, the little spike in her brain that has become the central point for months, perhaps years of subtle manipulation.

And just a flicker of doubt slides across her face.

Those eyes widen a little and instead of sheer, simple denial thrown up in the face of Lorna's claims, she actually listens. Only for moments, but the possibility that the green haired mutant could be telling the truth actually registers.

"No..." she whispers, though without that same defiance. Without that unflagging conviction. Maybe that has all been soothed away by Madelyne's efforts to smooth everything out for her emotionally. Maybe it's the words offered up to her. More then likely it is some of both.

It probably takes all that and more to overcome this kind of advanced indoctrination.

But if nothing else it demonstrates that it is possible. It is possible that Tempo might be able to be weaned away.

"He wouldn't do that," she adds with another tenuous whisper, those big, dark eyes staring back at the woman speaking with her.

Then a warning beep comes from the panel in front of Cable and the familiar if vaguely artifical tones of Xavier's voice sounds as the ships A.I. chimes in oh so calmly. "Bioscans indicate a ten percent drop in life functions. Advise termination of current treatment protocols."

<< Cut out. Fast as you can, >> Cable instructs urgently over that link, that fixed, implacable stare locked on Heather's floating form in that stasis beam.

When Maddy's mental touch fades, when the electromagnetic fields from Lorna cease to play over her, all those defenses seem to snap back into place. Tempo's eyes veil once more. The defiant look creeps back onto her expression. And she tilts her head -- as much as the field will allow -- so that she does not need to meet any of their eyes. That cone of silence, defiance, returned to her.

Gathering with the others, Cable eyes each of them asseingly. "More then I expected, I'll admit," he says with just the faintest hint of surprise. Or perhaps simply impressed. "You actually managed to break through to her, if only for a moment. Maybe she's not a lost cause afterall."

Maybe, in some way, she might still provide a means to putting an end to Stryfe's machinations.