4723/Fielding More Questions

Fielding More Questions
Date of Scene:	14 January 2021
Location:	A large field outside Xavier's
Synopsis:	The very important education on American Football, Superbowl Parties, and Superbowl ADS continues with Jamie and Rachel.
Cast of Characters:	Jamie Madrox, Rachel Summers

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Jamie Madrox has posed:
The time: Late afternoon on a winter's day, the sun is still fairly high in the sky though the air is brisk and cold. The place: A large field outside Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, in the sprawling countryside of Westchester County in upstate New York. The ground is fairly flat and even, and through the morning's frost has long since melted away the dirt beneath the medium-length grass is somewhat hard and unforgiving. The people: Jamie Madrox. Jamie Madrox. Jamie Madrox. And... Jamie Madrox. Many of him, to be exact. One group of the Multiple Men has arranged themselves into a loosely organized mob of eleven, huddled together in a rough circle. They have distinguished themselves by all wearing similar white sweatshirts with torn-off sleeves. Not far away, another assemblage of eleven Madroxes is milling about in a pair of rows generally facing the group that's formed a circle, though these duplicates are wearing blue sweatshirts instead of white. Along one side of both of these groups is yet another group of Multiple Men, some of which have bags of chips, others with empty bowls and most with a can of some sort of beverage in hand. Nearby to these, two additional Jamies stand next to each other, talking idly to themsleves.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, a single Jamie Madrox - the only one wearing a trenchcoat- is addressing a slender female with red hair. Not only is this female the only female out on the field, and also the only redhead, but she is actually the only person out of more than two or three dozen who is not, in fact, a Jamie Madrox. "Now," Jamie is telling her, gesturing a bit. "You have to remember, you're not just going to be watching a football game. You're going to be attending a /Superbowl Party/. So," he expounds, "If you want to fit in you're not only going to need to learn about football, but! You're going to need to learn about football /parties/."

Behind him, the white-shirt Jamies break their huddle and move to begin lining up against the blue-shirted Jamies. One of the white-shirts has a football in hand, pressing it down onto the ground as he looks around to his teammate. The 'party' Jamies all lean in, while the two Jamies off to the side straighten up and begin to call out in over-the-top announcer voices. "And the game is about to begin! There's a lot of interesting stories in tonight's matchup, Jamie, battles which we've seen play out all season long!" "That's right, Jamie, and it all comes down to this, the white shirts versus the blue shirts. The blue shirts have really seen some adversity, going through three coaches this season, but somehow, they've still found themselves here, in the Superbowl, with everything, everything, on the line. But can they go all the way?"

The Jamie with the trenchcoat gestures to the 'announcers' as he speaks to his student for the day, "Depending on the party you're going to, they may or may not have the TV on mute. If it's not on mute, it's perfectly acceptable - nay, almost expected - to mock the announcers at every chance possible." As if on cue, one of the duplicates with a bag of chips tosses some crumbs at the two 'announcers', yelling out sarcastically, "Oh come on, tell us something we don't know! The network paying you by the word?"

Rachel Summers has posed:
When she was on Muir Island attempting to understand the intricacies of American football and finally told to ask Jamie Madrox, Rachel Summers seriously did not understand the entire situation that she was going to soon find herself within. While the initial conversation between Jamie and Rachel was fairly 'what the heck' and 'how the heck' and 'who the heck', it would seem the Multiple Man (aptly named Rachel now knows) has come around full circle and has embraced the situation. Perhaps. Rachel idly and internally ponders, too much.

For the day, Rachel has attired herself in a brown hoodie that reads 'Muir Island Research Facility', perhaps borrowed (or stolen) from the island itself. A red leather jacket hangs down to her waist, idly keeping the chill out. A pair of simple (and well used) black jeans grace her legs, with a pair of brown leather boots with thick soles are on her feet (again well scuffed and used).

With her hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket, Rachel is taking this as seriously as Jamie is offering it. Which is to say, her brows are furrowed, her mouth is pursed, and the tall red-head is doing her best not to just simply run away with all of the Jamies that are currently around. Each with their own thoughts, and yet, she can sense the telepathic link that they have, which does give Rachel some pause in attempting to read their thoughts. It's like a chorus of noise in her head, almost worse than a damn airport.

"Wait." She offers with a gesture towards the ones eating and throwing things at the 'announcers'. "Are we expected to call out the announcers with consumable offense?"

Running a hand splayed through her short hair, Rachel also idly gestures towards the 'blue' team and the 'white' team. "Hunkering down in such a display of wrestling like stance, they do this often? While others spring upwards and sprint back and forth in random patterns? And the other side is supposed to conjecture what they will do next?"

Jamie Madrox has posed:
As these questions are raised, the majority of the Jamies present pause in what they're doing - the Jamies on the field stay in their current positions, lined up and ready for play, but not yet hiking the ball or even calling 'Hut'. The partying Jamies settle back into light conversation amongst themselves - snippits of 'totally should do a shotgun formation here', 'think we should have used real jerseys', 'someone should have painted the field', and 'wonder if we'll get any fingerprints on that gun' perhaps being overheard throughout. And, the Jamie who had been assaulted by crumbled chips dusts off his front with a wrinkled nose and mutters to his partner, "..How'd we get saddled with being the sportscasters?" His partner shrugs before answering, "Could be worse, we could have been asked to get her up to speed on the Bachelor."

Meanwhile, the Jamie in the trenchcoat nods to Rachel as she speaks. "If they warrant it, sure," he begins. "But - and this is important - you don't do it with wet food, like drinks or salsa, cause makes a mess of the TV and no-one wants that. I mean, you don't want to throw you whole plate at the TV either. But, you know, if they're being really cheesy and the party needs a little lift.." Jamie shrugs, grinning. "You know, just go with your gut."

He turns to the 'football field', then and nods once more. "At the beginning of every down. Remember, the offense is trying to move the ball down the field. They have four attempts - called 'downs' - to move the ball at least ten yards. Once they do that, they get another four downs to try to do it again." He continues to gesture as he speaks, pointing in the direction of the would be 'end zone' that white shirts are facing. "The defense, they're trying to stop the offense from moving the ball. So, there's a lot of strategy involved as to each team trying to guess what type of plays - or, battle plans I guess you can say - the other team's going to try to use." He takes a step back then, just as the white-shirt centerman starts calling out, "Blue, Twenty Two! Blue, Twenty Two! HUT! HUT!" and snaps the ball backwards to the white shirt 'quarterback' as the makeshift football surges to life with a buzz of frenetic action.

Rachel Summers has posed:
"My gut instincts would say to not attack an inanimate object, regardless of how cheesy or annoying those speaking upon it are." Rachel offers in a droll tone, making it difficult to tell if she's attempting to be serious, attempting to offer a joke, or is simply stating it as it is. For the most part, Rachel has come off fairly unreadable.

The red-head has been gracious, certainly, polite, and inquisitive. She's been appreciative of the thought and effort that has gone into teaching her this, but she also hasn't given any indication of why she hasn't learned this already, why she has decided she needs to learn it now, nor who she is, other than a current captive audience that is.

No, Rachel remains unreadable, for the most part, watching and listening to everything that is going on around her. As the action begins on the make shift 'field', Rachel's gaze focuses upon the 'play', bobbing her head as she watches the scene unfold. "I can understand the strategy involved if you are unable to read minds." Again, there is a wry twist of her lips, though it is brief, but there. A joke? Serious? Just playing with Jamie? Who's to say. The red-head turns her attention away from the field and to her 'helper'. "Would you mind if I joined in the next play? I can be any position you wish, but I would like to see up close and personal, just what is going on."

Jamie Madrox has posed:
On the 'field' proper, action is still under way, the 'quarterback' drops back into the pocket, a few defenders circling around him as the defensive tackles push on through towards him. He tries to juke one way, jive the other way - it's not looking good for the white shirts at all! In fact, one of the announcer-Jamies makes that exact statement, shouting out above the din in a cheeky tone, "The defensive line sure read that play! The quarterback has no-where to go - he's running out of options! His receivers are covered, his defenders are collapsing!" The party-going Jamies all gasp collectively, leaning forward as they watch in earnest...

As this is playing out, the Jamie in the trenchcoat seems blithely unconcerned with the 'action' on the field, instead keeping his attention focused on Rachel as he talks to her. "Yeah, well, reading minds would kind of take the fun out of it," he answers, his lips quirking a bit at one side with the words. "Really, most powers would. Which," he adds, "If I recall correctly is why McCoy didn't stick with football after High School." He looks a bit surprised by Rachel's ask to actually join in, though seems game enough. "Sure, you have any position you'd care to play? And, ah... No telepathy," he adds, grinning.

It's precisely at this time that the action on the field and the 'education' just off cross paths, with the white-shirt quarterback out of options and under pressure to avoid a sack. He hastily tosses his footbal in a high, off-aim arc just as no less than three blue-shirt Jamie's dogpile on top of him. IN fact, there's a bunch of piles of Jamies where defense and offense have run into each other, and it's not difficult to suddenly realize that the field now has many more Jamies on it than it did a moment ago. And the football? It's wobbling through the air directly towards Rachel's head...

Rachel Summers has posed:
It's simply a good thing that Rachel has kept her eyes on the 'ball' as it where, for the football smoothly sails straight into her arms, there to be caught and examined thoroughly. She doesn't mention the fact that she 'coaxed' it to her arms in such a manner, it just seems like the duplicate Jamie threw it to her perfectly. As it is, though, when her gaze does flicker upwards and notices the field is now doubled, if not tripled with Jamie Madroxs? Well, Rachel offers a wry. "Pull yourself together and lets do this. I'll play ball throw.. quarterback? And I promise. No telepathy. You're difficult to read anyway, too many minds all talking at once."

Not that Rachel has tried, or maybe she just admitted she's tried. Or maybe that's just the way all teleapths are. Regardless, Rachel saunters across the field, rounding up the 'white' team with a gesture. "It's difficult to tell you all apart, one moment." And each and every Jamie (on the white team) will suddenly find themselves encased in a telekinetic aura of fire, as each white shirt soon has a number located upon it, incriminating from 00 to 10, while Rachel's shrugging off her jacket, throwing it to one of the Jamie bystanders, and gesturing again for the team to surround her.

"Okay. So our intent is to get to the other side, correct?" Her gaze flickers towards the 'end zone', and back to the Jamie's, "And doing so by increments of ten, though that's the goal not the main priority?" Sorting this out in her head, Rachel's fingers wrap about the ball a bit, then hands it towards the Jamie in 00. "Here. Okay. Zero One, I'm going to throw the ball to you, but zero two, you run up to me as though you're going to grab it from me and run, everyone else, protect me. Also. Do try and stop reading each other's minds. It's why the other team knows what you're going to do. Think happy thoughts." Rachel COULD have blocked the mental link, but well, she didn't want to make things uncomfortable.

"We'll go on errr. Uhm, blue seventy two." With that, Rachel bobs her head, indicating the field, there she moves towards the center location and in position behind the 'center' Jamie.

Jamie Madrox has posed:
"Good catch!" the shout comes from one of the chip-eating Jamies, and is echoed by the rest of the party goers with a chorus of 'Way to go' and 'Nice one!' sentiments. For his part, the Jamie in the trench-coat just grins widely and nods to the field as Rachel makes her choice. "Quarterback it is then," he agrees, equal parts amused and intrigued by the red-head's eagerness to get into the mix of things. He continues to grin, offering a good-natured, "Lets see how well you've been paying attention!"

While the party-going Jamies continue to cheer her on, the announcers to the side are equally as invested in the part that they'be been saddled with, one of them turning to the other with a loud voice. "This certainly is an interesting development, Jamie, with one of the relief quarterbacks coming in off the bench in an attempt to right the ship. What's going through her mind out there, do you think?" The other Jamie begins to answer, "Well, this is the big time, Jamie. All roads lead here, and to get your start - your very first start - as a quarterback under the bright lights of the SuperBowl arena, you know that she's gotta be feeling a bundle of nerves-" "Oh come on, you don't know what she's thinking! *She's* the telepath!" one of the partiers calls out, interrupting the sportscasting Jamie. A frustrated frown is the result, followed with a slightly disgusted tone, "Hey! Do *you* want to have to be the sportscaster? You've got the easy job, standing there eating chips and salsa!"

Meanwhile, on the field - the whiteshirts have all been given numbers (a production in and of itself, as the duplicates take a good moment to all be envious of each other's specific assignments. 'How come *he* gets to be #1' 'Can my #07 have an extra zero infront of it?' and so on) and are huddled around their new quarterback. They all seem more than game to help out Rachel with the hands-on learning, though as she gives them the instruction to 'stop reading each other's minds', one of the Jamies can't help but counter, "Don't worry, we weren't really playing that competitively before." To which another quips, "We weren't?" But, duplicate 01 nods dutifully to the plan that's laid out, as does 02 and most of the other white-shirts, a few of them whispering to themselves about setting up in shotgun formation, which at least may make some of the party-going Jamies happy.

On the other side of the field, the blue-shirts are loosely assembling in their own formation, one of them calling out to Rachel and the white shirts in a good-natured taunt, "Come on, stop running down the play clock, we're losing daylight over here!"

Rachel Summers has posed:
Standing just a little back and away from the center Jamie, Rachel's gaze flickers across the field. In her mind, she can hear the cheering on from the 'crowd', there is a slight thrill that goes through her. After all, competition in such a friendly manner while certainly 'new', is still something that almost anyone would find exciting. It's at this point that she slowly begins to understand the enjoyment of the sport. You have a ball, you have a team, you try not to get buried by the opposite team, while moving the pigskin from one point to another.

Being a part of the team is much better than sitting on the sidelines, and maybe, Rachel can take that entire thought to her life right now. She's been on the sidelines, watching everything transpire around her. She needs to be part of the play, and while she may not be the leader, or leader material, just being IN the game is what Rachel needs the most.

There is an almost too long pause, before Rachel clears her thoughts and returns to the moment, green eyes scanning the back side of her 'team'. "Blue seventy two, BLUE SEVENTY TWO. HUT! Err.. HUT!" And with that, Rachel's hands extend outwards waiting for the snap from the center. The moment that ball enters her arms, she'll 'pretend' to give to the one Jamie, before spinning about and sending the ball spiraling towards the other Jamie. Which she never really said WHERE to go, but hopefully he'll just watch for her signal. It does take a few seconds for Rachel to release the ball.

Jamie Madrox has posed:
Indeed, there are quite a few Jamie Madroxes now acting the role of the 'party' - quite a few more than had started out, actually, some with blue sweatshirts and some with white sweatshirts. It seems that that the extra duplicates that had been spawned from the earlier play have elected to become spectators for the moment, and the addition in those watching have made a subtle transition from mirroring a television-watching party to something much more akin to the experience of an actual live game. Perhaps realizing this, the two 'announcers' decide to finally throw in the proverbial towel, the more outspoken of the two wasting no time in snatching a bag of tortilla chips from one of the other duplicates to begin munching in earnest as he watches the action unfold on the field.

There, the blueshirts are all settled in their defensive line, hunkered down and apparently itching to leap forward into motion. They eye each other up and down the defensive line, a couple of near false starts as Rachel starts to call out 'Blue Seventy Two!' before she belts out her second 'Hut!' and Jamie double-ought snaps the football to her. At that moment, the blue-shirts push forward, meeting the line of white-shirts ready to meet them. They shove, they struggle, they tangle up as the blue-shirts attempt to force their way through to Rachel, slowly but surely inching the white-clad Jamies back inch by inch until one of the blueshirts pops through!

The eager blue-shirt lunges towards Jamie 01, completely and utterly taken by the fake-out, spinning to land on the hard ground with a *thud* and a *pok!*, another blue-shirted Jamie joining him there on the ground and leaving Rachel with the time needed to throw the ball. Fortunately, her intended target, the Jamie with the 02 on his shirt, is a good ten to fifteen yards down the field at this point, with only a single blue-shirted Jamie on his proverbial tail. He waves his hand to show Rachel that he's open, starting to cross inward as he wants to keep in motion without going too far downfield and possibly out of reach of Rachel's arm. Sans telekinesis, anyways...

Rachel Summers has posed:
The ball haphazardly flies through the air. Rachel COULD have put some telekinetic oomph behind it, but she didn't. Instead, the red-head throws it with all her might, and while it isn't a perfectly spiral throw that would make any football fan scream with envy - it's at least enough of a heave that it COULD get to the duplicate that is now 'open', except for the one blue shirt, of course.

As the ball leaves Rachel's hands, the blue shirt that is coming straight for her /does/ gain enough contact that the two manage to fall towards the soft earth. (And probably creating another duplicate in the process.) Rachel lets out a quiet 'oof' of noise, though her attention is soon craning towards the impending ball, throw, and if she managed to make the arms of the one she was throwing to.

As it ends, Rachel's on her rump, sitting up swiftly to her elbows, and casting a gaze through the mass of Jamie's. "Did it work?"

Jamie Madrox has posed:
The football arcs through the air, almost the entirety of Jamies who aren't already prone on the ground or actually running to catch the ball itself watching the airborne path of the pigskin in unision, dozens of pairs of eyes moving as one as they watch the brown object hit its peak, the spiral of the thing becoming more and more erratic as it falls steadily, dropping and dropping, some yards away from where Jamie 02 is sprinting madly, until... at the last moment... Jamie leaps forward, just out of reach of the blue-shirt duplicate that is chasing him, hands outstretched to clutch at the foot-ball to catch it in mid-leap! He cradles the football to his chest before he lands on the ground with deep *whumpth!!* and another *Pok!* and duplication, though ultimately holds up the football in one hand as if to say, pass complete!

Before any of the Jamies nearby to Rachel can answer her directly, she'll have her answer by the chorus of hoots and cheers from the sidelines, as white-shirt. blue-shirt and chip-comping Jamies alike all celebrate the pass and reception. "It worked!" the blue-shirt that clipped Rachel finally states then, grinning despite being on the 'losing' side of the play. "Nice throw!" Similar sentiments come from around her as the Jamies begin to pick themselves up - again, a few more than the play started with - some of them absorbing others to reduce the sudden increase in numbers, others moving to join the rest of the spectators, while at least a couple offer Rachel a hand up from her own position on the ground.

One of those with his hand outstretched in an offer of aid is the sole Jamie wearing a trenchcoat, smiling as brightly as the rest of his duplicates. "Not bad at all," he compliments happily. "Looks like you *have* been paying attention." He nods a little bit then, before furrowing his eyebrows into a serious expression. "Which means, since you're getting the actual football stuff down pretty good, we really need to make sure that you aren't going embarass yourself with the party aspect. And I'm serious about this. Now, most television events like this, you'll be tempted to think that when the commercials come on it's okay to get up and leave the room to raid the fridge or use the bathroom or whatever. BUT! With the Superbowl, the ads are almost more of an event than the game itself. You see, the..." And so it goes that the rest of the afternoon - for good or ill - will be spent detailing everything from the history of the Budweiser Clydesdale Horses to Apple Computer's 1984 commercial, and everything in between....