4799/Lab Partners

Lab Partners
Date of Scene:	20 January 2021
Location:	Pym's Mobile Lab
Synopsis:	Magic, Science, two tastes that go great together. Not.
Cast of Characters:	Hank Pym, Michael Hannigan

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Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym watches Mike's friend, Rod, sleeping on the lab table. The man is sleeping on a futon, with a pillow and a sheet pulled on him. Hank did say he'd treat him well.

Hank is sort of a hypocrite. The man is not going to wake up until Hank says so. A very low power encephalo-beam being trained on him. Hank had been tortured and interrogated by a similar, higher powered device created by an alt-Earth Ultron Pym cyborg. That device went to 11. This was set to two. Sleep. While he slept Rod was getting an IV of saline, another with a cocktail of vitamins, antibiotics, and steroids and very advanced cat scanners played over his entire body. the results played on several monitors.

Mike might be surprised at the look on Hank's face: cold and intense. This was a matter of science. he'd try to spare Mike in this for sure. But he had his job to do and this man was never going to hurt Mike while he was breathing.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Save for the sounds of Hank doing his scientist thing, it is extremely quiet for the amount of people in the room.

Mike's lost track of how long he's been in the lab. He hasn't spoken much and instead has been quietly sitting. Leaned forward, elbows resting on his knee, he's having an odd sort of vigil for the lookalike. Observing what is done. Coming to terms to what is before him. And doing his damndest to quash interfering bouts of nostalgia.

From general appearances, Doppel-Rod does seem to be getting good care. From what bits of information he was given, Mike wouldn't be surprised if whatever was being pumped to him was a virtual feast. Although, it's still a less than stellar meal. "So -" He pauses, thoughts immediately going blank after he starts the sentence, leaving him with his mouth partially open, looking dumbly to Rod.

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym puts his hand on Mike's shoulder. "I'll do my best. He might be better with a conventional doctor... but I doubt it. What I'm seeing is hypertrophy of the pleasure centers of his brain. This man was putting out massive amounts of seratonin at one point. However now these centers, though enlarged are barely functioning. He's like an addict in perpetual withdrawal. Contrast this with this brain -elevated seratonin production but not influenced telepathically, just a manic individual. Yeah, me. I can tell you crashing is no picnic. As for treatment, he's not suffering now. I'll have to turn him over to a SHIELD facility eventually but... the best hope for him is a rehab coach. Those clinics have a 2-5% success rate. If you want me to continue treating him, I will do my best. Do you want to talk to him?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"I think the last time talk of other worlds was brought up I said the last thing I'd want to do is run into another version myself." Mike comments, "I was wrong."

He straightens up on the way to leaning back in the chair. Freed up arms gesturing towards the table with the sleeping doppel. "This is worse."

He sighs, lowering his hand as he trys to get his head around what Hank said. He glimpses what was being shown for comparison. "...So, this is all the result of a mental attack?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym shrugs and walks over to the encephalo beam, still waiting on Mike's decision. "It's the result of years of telepathic abuse. The thing came to his Earth 40 years ago. He was dominated by it his entire life most likely. He has very poor decision making skills. Wel what will it be? If I shut the beam off he will wake up very fast but nothing I can't handle." Hank pulls the sheet away to reveal heavy restraints.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike tilts his head at the suggestion, looking over towards Rod, giving a distant look for a few moments. "I'm not sure it was that long..." He's quiet for a few moments before blinking, shaking his head. "I'd like to try something first. Do you have enough information for a-" He pauses, trying to think of the word, "...I think it's called a baseline?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym looks quizzical. "Metabolic, EEG, endochrine? What? I mean probably?", the scientist says. "You want to do dream magic? He's stable and possibly in the best shape of his life, but he doesn't dream under that ray. I learned that the hard way. On long term low powered setting you sleep but do not dream. It really messed me up."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike shakes his head, giving a bit of a grimace. "Uh. About that..." He pauses, "You know how you said Raphel's Flask helped you? Was it only when you were asleep?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym shakes his head. "When I sleep it's quiet. I play it and either listen while meditating or working. Do you want me to play it on the sound system? I wish Saeko was here. Seems she could be very useful too." Hank fumbles in his lab coat for a small remote. After a monet the song begins to play and Hank watches the readings for Rod.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike glances over to the direction of the speakers and nods. Before walking over towards the table. Well. If he's going to try it, might as well get some added oomph. He's quiet as his recorded voice filters over the speakers for the first half but he stops beside Rod. He takes a deep breath, bringing his hands together, fingertips pressed upon its own reverse doppelganger. Eyes closing, he slips to a quiet bought of prayer. Long prayer. About halfway through the song. Then the voice starts up, pairing up to the recorded voice.

'It started so slowly,
didn't see it come.
The tears, the aching,
and thoughts that scare some.

Yes the feeling is seeping in
It's a pain deep within.
We're not sure if we'll survive.
This thing inside that thrives.

It builds until that won't do,
this sickness residing in you.

You're not sure how to keep it at bay
Just need to know what to say-ay yay, hey...'

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pymquickly shut the beam off when Mike began singing. As always he feels his personal load lightening. He feels understood, which doesn't happen often. Mike, Saeko, that's about it. Being loved or trusted is not the same as being understood. But now? He wallows in understanding and feels the light touch on his cheek of a pretty kitsune. He feels Maria's touch again.

How long since he thought of her? Busy? No excuse. But try to do better Henry, she'll wait for the world to be saved, it's Maria. As he said when he met Saeko -so lonely, so tired, Better now though. And he would do better still.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike takes a deep breath before he slips into the chrous. As he continues on, there's a slight difference to how Hank is feeling and the expression upon Mike's. Still the same. No change for the better or worse. But, the fingertips pulse slightly.

'One thing to ask
a tone demure
Raphael's flask
give me a cure.'

He opens his eyes slowly, pulling his hands slowly apart, remiscent of a jacob's ladder, there's a slight line of energy between the two index fingers, lengthening in resistance to the separation before one side gives in, snapping over to the one finger. Vanishing from view.

Mike gives a glance up as he continues just a bit further.

'A saving grace.
Perhaps that'll buy us awhile.
Smiling.
A smiling face.
Time to give sickness denial.'

He brings his hand over towards Rod slowly.

'Deprive.
It's time to thrive.'

To the end of the song, there's an arc of the energy again, traveling over to Rod's forehead before vanishing. Spent, Mike gives an exhausted look to Hank. Before walking back to the chair and flopping down "...We'll see."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym looks at the readings, his and Ron's, displayed side by side. He clicks his tongue. "His vitals are dropping to normal human levels. He's sleeping normally. I'll leave the beam off him and let him rest. Thanks. I'm pretty sure this energy, spell whatever is not a permanent cure. That requires... brain modifications. I dunno. I've been in here too long. Mike, thank you for the secondary effects. I'm going to sleep myself as I've been up 32 hours. I'll roll a cot out here to watch Rod and call you in the morning, especially should he ask for you."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike nods, "Uh. Most I think that'll give you is a couple days. But it might help with getting a coherent conversation with him... With less stabbing attempts."

He takes a deep breath before starting to push himself up from the chair, "...Ugh. I would not recommend doing that on a regular basis. Later Hank."

It takes him a bit longer to get to the door than normal BUT it does give him plenty of time to dial up a number to a taxi service. No, you don't need to know why he has it memorized. Soon, the sleepy songwriter leaves the sleepy scientist with the sleepy test subject.