Silence. Perfect. Still. Eerie.

   And then a low whine begins to build, radiating from a pinprick of light floating a metre off the ground. A pop, resounding as it turns into a crater forming blast, denting in the once still grass and earth and making trees rattle. In the centre of the blast appears a teenager, impossibly thin and unnaturally stretched. He floats in the air a moment, suspended by the pure power seething across his skin, and then the energy winks out. He drops, hitting the compressed soil with an oof and a curse.

   David lays there a moment, his narrow chest heaving as he takes in rough gasps. He stares at the sky above him, blue and touched by wispy white clouds. A grin spreads across his face.

    “Sky,” he croaks, voice raw. Does his throat ache because of the screaming or is he just not used to talking? It’s so hard to remember what was him in that prison and what wasn’t. A hand flops onto the earth, fingers digging into the dirt. His skin crawls at the feeling of grime beneath his fingernails but it’s a sensation that grounds. It’s real and here and proof he isn’t caged anymore. His grin widens. “Dirt.”

    Then a thought, sudden, urgent. David sits up. Wild eyes drop to the remnants of an IV still sticking out of his arm. He rips it free, barely flinching with the pain. He bears his teeth, snarling at the thing as he jumps to his feet and steps away from it. He kicks off his shoes, the hospital slippers coming free so easily, and he takes a second to revel at the freedom of his toes. David then scrambles up the crater walls, pulling himself out and onto the grass. Gaze darts about, looking for threats and opportunities. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what to do now.

   I got an idea Davey-boy, comes a slimy thought at the back of his brain.

   Again, he bears his teeth. Again, he snarls as weedy muscles tense, and his jaw tightens. He will stay in control.

Jean and a small team of other X-Men had just gotten back from a mission. It wasn't a large one, but important nonetheless. Upon entering the manor, she immediately senses the presence of a mind she is not familiar with. There's nothing else that seems to be out of the ordinary, however. So she lets the team go on their merry way to change and decompress at their leisure. While she goes to find her family. After all, new people are coming and going from the school regularly.

[I did mean the verbal codes! I didn't think they'd want random people taking control of Taro easily! But I wondered if they wanted to be able to do it semi-subtly for some reason -- I was actually thinking of potential use in relation to AI and transhumanism, which… seemed like potentially more plausible topics for them than black holes. It is darkly hilarious that they didn't consider random people saying those things. Especially if Marvel has SHIELD use them as common code words!!!]

YEAH... i think if they had been designed less like a weapon and more like an actual ai, those might have been more plausible! however, i think another big reason for why they leaned into the black hole stuff is that the machine aspect of the project wasn't really added until halfway through when their designers basically went ... huh, mechanical work a lot better for what we're trying to make than biological. the verbal codes had already been set in stone by that point--every attempt was programmed with these, either through literal programming, or some kind of conditioning. taro's appearance as a human/ai is far less about transhumanism, and more about the utility of that appearance as a weapon. which is funny considering some stuff in plots on discord with them and orchis; which is an organization that leans very deeply into the idea of transhumanism and ai.

YEAH...marvel loves using the phrase event horizon especially. me considering that taro was made by shield during when fury was in charge and just...i love coming across people just randomly using the terms in the comics because i'm like "yeah taro, sorry buddy." JIOFSJOIFSJIODF

   David was having fun. He was getting to use his power at it’s upper limits. He was saving lives and warping reality in more complex ways than he had before. Even his alters were enjoying the cooperative surge of energy. And to top it all off, David likes kids. It was a blast hearing that celestial munchkin giggling up a cosmic storm when he diverted the kid’s own reality shift from an inhabitant planet and turned it into a nebula the shape of an orchid. All in all, an excellent time for his first foray into space.

   Rachel getting hurt is a massive blow to that joy. He sucks his teeth as he looks at the leaking, liquid fire. This does not look good, and Rachel is looking real fucking pale. Should hosts of the Pheonix Force be able to look like they’re going into anemic shock? Because she looks like she’s going into anemic shock.

    “Okay,” he says, reaching out to take one of Rachel’s burning hands in his. Cosmic fire light mixes with the kaleidoscope of colours that marble his own glowing skin. David gives Rachel a comforting smile. He is going to stay calm and not give into the panic that’s starting to grip his heart. One of them needs to be in control right now.

@therekindling asked: [Disappointed sentence starters... not exactly.]

"You really messed this one up," Rachel says, torn between laughter at her Prince's malicious compliance and wincing at both the reason and the resulting loss of information. She leafs through a series of codex pages that now read eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and then opens to a random point later in the volume to find nnnnnnnnnnnn. "Doubtless the Emperor will think twice before setting you to alphabetize his library again, but... all the same... please tell me you can change it back?"

Disappointed sentence starters

   David reclines on an armchair in the reading area of the library. He has a book in his hand, one unaffected by the illusion he's put over the historical codices of his father's vast historic collection. He skims the words, barely absorbing the astrological bodies and their meanings. He's paying more attention to Rachel's mirth, letting it wash over his mind and bring him a little bit of pride.

   “Serves him right. Givin’ me such a menial task,” the prince says with a sneer. “Like I'm not capable of taking on real responsibility.” He huffs and then he takes a breath, calming his irritation.

   He swings his legs off the armrest he had them hanging over and stands. Stepping up to the Grey Princess’ side, David leans closer to her and taps the page with all the ns. There is a wavering of the ink, then in a blink the entry about his great great great uncle returns to the page.

@therekindling asked: "Your muse is spying on mine and sees mine encounter a dangerous situation. Do they watch from the sidelines like they’re supposed to or do they jump to the rescue?" --I am genuinely struggling a little with the concept of Rachel being supposed to spy on somebody and stay out of things, though to be fair, it's probably appropriate often enough she should cultivate the skill.

Well, anyway, David presumably alters the threshold of what counts as a dangerous situation, but he also seems to be recurrently in varying degrees of trouble, not that Rachel has room to talk. She would hold back if he seems to be okay but call for backup and/or dive in if somebody appears to be likely to succeed in taking his brain out (?????!) or something.

Your muse is spying on mine and sees mine encounter a dangerous situation.

   The target is in their sights. He has been for the last minute without moving, and it's got a cold sweat forming on the back of their neck. They take a breath, steadying the rifle. They focus down the scope, eyeing that head of unnatural hair. The target looks at his wrist, like he's checking a watch, but there is nothing there. Weird, mutant freak. They're doing the world a favour. They pull the trigger.

   Aim is true, and the bullet hits the mutant right in his temple. He reels to the side, and they grin, expecting him to fall as the crowd in the town square begins to panic, but then they blink.

   The mutant is gone. Vanished. Their breath hitches in their throat, and panic builds in their chest. They swing the scope downwards, looking for a body, but there isn't one. They scan the crowd, people now running and screaming, but, in that chaos, they can't see that distinctive hair rising above the others.

   “Shit, shit, shit!” They hiss, frantically disassembling the sniper rifle.

   They tuck it away into the case and stand, turning. Only to come face to face with the mutant. There is blood streaming from a hole in his head that starts to heal rapidly. The mutant frowns as he rolls something around in his mouth, and then he bears his teeth. The bullet, still bloody from its entry, is held between those teeth, and as casual as anything, Legion plucks it free.

   “Is this how y’ lads did it last time?” he asks, turning the bullet between his fingers before flicking it away. “Shoot me in the head. Make me brain dead an’ hope my healin’ factor keeps me alive long enough so y’ can harvest my brain? Sorry, mate, got a wee bit more focus now.”

   They whip around, fear curling in their gut. They clamber over the railing, aiming to throw themselves off the building. Better to die than get captured by this monster.

   “Nah ah, nope. Y’ not gettin’ away that easy,” comes the mutant's voice, and then they feel a force grip them. It tugs them backwards, dragging them towards Legion. It's like a thousand ropes, wrapping and pulling and twisting. They’re turned around to face him, his hand raised, and fingers clawed. They’re forced to kneel, and Legion drops his hand, but still, they are trapped, unable to break from the unseen control. He crouches before them, those unsettling blue and green eyes watching intently.

   “Let’s see what y’ brain can tell me," He says, hand rising again, but this time, his fingers are straight. They watch in terror as the monster slowly inserts those fingers into their forehead. Mouth opens to scream, but no sound comes out. Then, everything goes black.

                                    -----------------------

   David watches the Orchis agent’s eyes roll back in their head, mouth hanging open. His features are dispassionate as he sifts through their memories. He’s not being particularly careful. He has no mercy for racist dipshits. As he works, he sends out a greeting, mental and casual and right into the mind of the other person that’s been following him.