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It's evening, and at one of the little apartment safehouses that the Institute sets up, is now occupied. The apartment is nothing fancy, but it defines 'average', and hey, there's even food in the form of non-perishables. Calls have been made, and so Warlock and Douglas wait. While waiting, Warlock has been occupying himself with watching television. At the moment, he looks like a chrome and copper manbot with black dreadlocks and bright yellow eyes. And a television antennae rising out of his head, letting him watch two channels at once: one straight into his headbox, and one on the screen. "Self-friend, self thinks he would like Mister Andy Griffith." he says, gravely.
"Well," Doug says, "Andy Griffith is a comedian. He plays a character on TV. However, they say that every actor puts a little bit of themselves into a role. So maybe Andy Griffith the actor is like Andy Griffith the sheriff. Or maybe he's not. I've never met him, so I don't know." He kicks back, and sips a root beer, "But Self-friend, I cannot see how he possibly would not like you." Then he pauses, and says, "So, how would you like to play a prank on Professor Xavier?"
It's not so much a physical voice, as it is a mental voice, "How would you manage that, Mister Ramsey?" However, you both hear it rather clearly, despite the fact that the Professor (presumably) is still on the other side of the door, followed by a firm knocking on said door, "Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me in?"
Warlock considers Doug's words very carefully: he still is having a little trouble with fiction. There's nothing like stories on Kvch, of course. Oh, he's encountered fiction in all this time but he just doesn't … immediately *grasp* it. He has to be told when something is fictional or he assumes fact. "Andy Griffith is…actor. Deceives people into thinking he is something he is not, for entertainment purposes?" Still, he tilts his head, and flashes a bright Warlock grin. "Self would…" And then a voice occurs in his head, and he's aware of his physiology enough to know this did not come through his ears. He blinks. "Self is malfunctioning."
Doug raises an eyebrow at Warlock. "Too late." He says, before he shrugs. "Okay, no jokes. I was going to have you turn into a lamp or the TV or something." He opens the door. "Now, okay." He gets up, and opens the door, before he steps aside. "Professor." He clears his throat. "Um. Ahem. This…" He gestures, "Is Warlock. Warlock, this is Professor Charles Xavier. He ran the school I attended, where I wanted to bring you." He sighs. "Professor, Warlock is… a space alien. I found him in Europe, when I heard a rumor of a meteor crashing in the alps. I went looking for it, and I found Warlock wandering, lost." He sighs, and says, "This is going to take a lot of explaining, but it'd be best to let him do the talking. I'll chime in if I need to."
The Professor walks in at that point, giving Warlock a very curious look, his voice sounding remarkably like his mental projection, "Apologies for the mental speech, my ability is telepathy. Being able to read and contact other minds." He smiles a little, then nods towards Doug, before taking a seat and looking at Warlock, "How did you wind up on Earth, Warlock?"
Warlock actually manages to look nervous, his robot-like face quite expressive. The antennae sticking out of his head folds up and vanishes into his head, and he considers the question for a long moment. "Self was fleeing through space, when self detected a signal. Self was low on power, and thought to find a power source…" He hesitates, then shakes his head, "No, self was seeking a friend, though self did not know it at the time." Mentioning 'friend' has a quick and warm smile turned towards Doug. The dreadlock-like tendrils on his head rise a bit to stand out, a sign of tension, "Self is uncertain where to begin explanation. Self … Self must explain Technarchy, he thinks. The Technarchy knows only power; the Technarchy has one emotion— ambition. The Technarchy exists to dominate. The offspring of a Technarch is, by its very nature, a rival: no Technarch would allow a rival. The offspring must be subjugated or destroyed. Similarly, the offspring will not tolerate a rival: the sire is by its very nature a rival. The offspring must destroy the sire. This is our nature, written into what we are." He sounds… sad. He is sad, if Xavier is touching his mind. Its an alien mind, the thoughts difficult to make out, but the emotion clear. "Self is a mutant. Self feels. Self did not wish to kill self-sire: self does not wish to kill any sentient."
Douglas gives Warlock a thumbs-up, and then he touches the alien's shoulder, reassuringly. "Warlock is a pacifist, Professor Xavier, an outcast from a race who considers organic life nothing but sustenance. He didn't want to kill his… father, for lack of a better term. So he fled. Technarchs can convert organic life into energy, but they can also feed off of electricity, like from an established power grid. It's just not as…" He wrinkles his nose, "Efficient for them. Warlock is fine plugging into a wall, where the rest of his race would find that unacceptable. He would *die* before he killed another sentient being for food… and he doesn't even like to hurt animals or plants." He pauses, and then sighs. "There's a problem, but I'll let Warlock tell you."
The Professor nods, and digests that information, looking between Douglas and Warlock, "I sense you're both sincere about this. But as Douglas said, there's more going on here. Please, explain Warlock, I'd like to know what else is going on." While Xavier can touch Warlock's mind, he isn't one to just pry without good cause. And he seems genuinely curious about this, and about Warlock.
The alien nods to Douglas in agreement with all that he says, smiling his big, almost goofy smile at his friend. "Self-friend Douglas understands self well." Warlock's tone turns from serious to deeply grave, "Self is an affront to self-sire; self's very continued existance is offense. For self is both rival, and tainted by weakness of emotion— an offense to the whole of self's race and an stain on self-sire that he produced such an offspring. Self-sire Magus will never stop looking for self, to destroy self. It may be that self was clever enough to escape self-sire, but it may not be. If self-sire finds self, self-sire will do all that he can to destroy self. Self-sire will then look upon world designated 'Earth' as, self believes correct term is, 'tasty treat'." He winces. "Self will not permit this." This he adds in a very firm tone, "Even if it means self must commit violence against self-sire, self will not permit him to harm self-friend Doug's world." For him to even say such a thing sounds… like he shocks himself. "Self would be friend to world designated 'Earth'."
Doug puts his hand on Warlock's shoulder and says, softly, "And I'm going to help Warlock fight his father, no matter what. I know I don't have the sort of powers that would let me fight a creature like the Magus — but some things, Professor, they're worth dying for. I met…" He smirks at Warlock, "This wonderful person, looking for a place to call home, there's nobody like him in the universe — he's a Mutant. He's worth dying for. But he needs a place to call home. And if the school exists for the outcast, the people who're different with unique powers and unique abilities, who might be feared and hated elsewhere…" He shrugs. "I'm pretty sure Warlock ticks every box."
The Professor nods, "Well, he might not be a human mutant, but I think he definitely qualifies as someone worthy of protection." He looks a bit grim at the mention of Earth as a 'tasty treat', and looks at Douglas. "Well, I know you won't have to face this Magus alone, that much I can assure you."
Warlock puffs up visibly at Douglas' declaration of helping him, and then at the Professor's confirmation, but he adds, "Clarification. Self does not simply wish home or protection, self is quite capable of self-defense." There's a note like that's… a joke. Warlock grins, "Self wishes also to be useful! Self can be car if it is needed that people go to a place, or self can be a spaceship from time to time. Self can also lift heavy things or be a dog or whatever it is that self needs to be to be helpful." And with that, he becomes a quick mass of motion, as if made of many tiny parts that fold and bend and twist and in a minute he's a man. A tall, dark skinned bald man. He grins. "Self can blend in if needed from time to time, though self prefers to be some variation on what self really is, a techno-organic being in some useful in the moment configuration."
Doug points to Warlock, and says, simply, "See! He's incredible. And… well… I can't leave him alone. So I guess, if you'd have me, I'd like to come back to the school. I can teach… I was teaching in Europe to make ends meet."
The Professor smiles a bit, "Well, Doug, I think you'd be more than welcome back to the school… and Warlock, I think we can safely say that you can stay with us. And I think you'll end up fitting right in with the rest of the students."
Warlock actually hops with the joy of it, beaming; which doesn't quite look right on the serious, handsome face he picked at random to be his manlock form. Feeling its not quite right, there is a blur of motioni as mechanisms fold in and out and he's once more something looking more like a robot, but with tendrils that stand up on end in joy. "Joyful. Self is most accepting of your acceptance." Which totally makes sense, right? "Self will endeavor to ensure you do not regret decision." He turns to Doug, and goes in for the hug, "You were right, self can fit in here."
Douglas hugs Warlock enthusiastically. "Oh, Buddy," He says, brightly, "How could you not? Who could possibly meet you and NOT want to be your friend?" He laughs, and then says, "Thank you, Professor. He really — he's something else. I've learned a lot from him. I've never met someone who enjoys life so *much*."
The Professor smiles slightly, "Well, especially at the school, we can always use a little more joie de vivre." He chuckles slightly, "And Douglas, I'm guessing you were thinking of teaching linguistics, or did you have something else in mind?"
"Well… that follows, logically." Doug says, "Though I've been doing a lot of reading about the computers men like Reed Richards are developing. I think… they're the future, sir. So even if we don't have one of our own yet, I'd like to maybe teach some of the concepts behind the coming technological revolution. It's going to change the way the world works. Warlock says he's seen worlds where computers did *all* the work!"
"Offer: Self can teach hyperdynamic n-space quantum string mechanics!" enthuses Warlock with a grin, tilting his head, looking between the two of them. Talk of computers and such causes his hand to lift, and fold and bend until there's a screen, and over the screen flow quick streams of symbols, "Yes, there are some worlds where there is only advanced machines performing all needed-work. They are not as efficient as the Technarchy because a machine is still only the one thing and not anything it needs to be at the time, but still. Self-friend Doug would make excellent teacher of the machine languages, for he learned to understand Technarch speech. Impressed: though self has deepest respect for organic sentient did not think any organic sentient could understand self-language."
The Professor laughs softly at Warlock's offer to teach, "I'm not sure if humanity is ready for that, let alone the school, but we'll see what we can do if you want to actually teach something." He grins at both of you, "Douglas, you remember where the school is, right?"
"His language is very interesting," Doug says, rubbing the back of his neck with a renewed curiosity. "Technarchs classify everything in terms of the technarch itself, and this expresses itself in terms of their language and idiom. For instance, Technarchic doesn't have a word for 'friend' per say, but it does have one for 'My cherished property', which is the closest approximation. Warlock doesn't consider me his possession, but linguistically, I'm classified as such. So when he speaks English, Warlock's idiom is still to refer to individuals in the possessive… so I become Self-friend Doug. You might become Self-teacher Xavier… it's very fascinating." Then he nods, to Xavier. "I do. I'll take him up there tonight, and let him get comfortable."
Warlock inclines his head to the Professor seriously, "Yes, self-teacher." He accepts Douglas' suggestion of a translated word: the closest word in Technarch for 'teacher' is 'one who has power of knowledge and is forced to relinquish it by threat of destruction'. Or something very close to that. He nods in agreement with Doug on his translations, though, He grins suddenly, "Self will be a car and take self-friend to this school." Pause, "Or perhaps a helicopter. Self has not been a helicopter in weeks."
The Professor hmms, "Well, that's rather interesting indeed. A helicopter?" He grins a little at that, "The flexibility of such shapechanging abilities seems almost limitless, especially as we become more inclined to use technology in everyday lives." He glances sidelong at Douglas, "Computers? That has definite potential."
Doug nods, and then pats Warlock on the shoulder. "Helicopter. He turned into this hovering version of a skateboard, and we scared the heck out of half of Paris. Warlock can become almost anything. We haven't yet found his limit. And it's all functional, too. Let me go make a phone call, 'Lock, so we don't terrify the neighbors, and then we can head out. Okay?"
"Self has limits in scope, but very little limits in form or detail. Self is as easily man or dog as self is car or spaceship or laser gun for self-friend Doug. 'Form' is need of function to Technarch." Warlock explains to the Professor, with a quick nod and a grin for Doug's patting, "Self is patient, self-friend. Self can be unobtrusive and modify for stealth if there is need for not-scare the sentients. Self does not wish to scare sentients." He is sober then, "Self understands the fear of sentients; it is natural for all to fear Technarch. But fear and friendship as not compatible, self thinks."