#what language

@what-language Forge and T’challa had hoped to use the interdimensional portal machine to escape this world, to take everyone somewhere else. But Malcolm didn’t want to escape. This was his home. And as he’d said, this place was perfect. Of course, unlike them, he’d never known any other world for comparison. Which just meant he, in his ignorance of anything else, was that much more sure he was right. However, once those two and the zombies were out of the way, thanks to him, and he was leading things, he did start considering using the device. Not to take his people elsewhere…but to bring things from elsewhere to his people. Things like food, medicine, supplies…maybe even people, if he could find a world with humans, who would be willing to come back and broaden their rapidly-depleting gene pool. Really, anything that could be useful. Once he had constructed a smaller device---worn on his wrist like an exceptionally clunky watch---that linked back to the greater one, thus allowing him to return to his world, and testing it out successfully on animals, then the members of New Wakanda who could be spared if they did not return, he began using it himself to get what his people needed. He’d had some...interesting results so far. Like that one world full of big lizards. This time, he had clearly arrived in the interior of what looked like a lab. Like what the long-abandoned labs of Stark and Richards in The City (what his people called the remains of NYC) would look like if they had been cleared of dirt and vines and all the various critters that had holed up there. Malcolm didn’t realize it, but he was in Utopia. And he was---to his mistaken eyes---alone, so he crept cautiously along the uncannily clean metallic hallway, in search of anything that might be of use to his world.

@what-language “At first, I thought that Serval’s X-Factor was completely unrelated to the one that I was familiar with---the now-disbanded team that was employed by the American government.” The tall South Asian woman held her dupatta around her head and shoulders as if perhaps slightly chilled; it did not seem to be a modesty garment, as her mass of blue-black hair flowed freely from and under and around it, an in-containable cloud. “But, then, I looked at the team roster, and saw that two of the team I remembered---Polaris and Quicksilver---were among its members. And I recall your face as well.” Her name was Radha Dastoor. She had been visiting this university to attend a philosophy conference being hosted there. Her name was also Haven. And only a few years ago, she had been a terrorist bent on destroying the world, whom X-Factor, the X-Factor she remembered, was trying to stop. Hence her concern when she had crossed paths with one of the members of the most recent team. “If you are here to scout me out, assess the area, lead me away from innocent bystanders who might be hurt in an attempt to take me in...do not fear. I shall come quietly. I have been waiting for this a long time.” There was no accusation in her tone, no bitterness, no defensiveness. Just resignation, acceptance, perhaps defeat, yet not a regretful defeat. She did not sound as though she had lost something. In fact, she was totally mistaken. The young man here in the hallway had been on Serval’s X-Factor team, yes---but now he was merely another student of the university, one who likely had no idea what this crazy lady was talking about.