It’s Me, Hi, I’m the Problem
Posted on Fri Jan 5th, 2024 @ 3:31pm by Connor Bruin & Hank McCoy
2,288 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Episode 0: X Lang Syne
Location: Muir Island
Timeline: 1985
Hank was in trouble.
He had been attempting to create a serum that would effectively hide the X gene from the Sentinels- the mutant hunting machines that had plagued them so recently- and thought he’d had it worked out. And so, like any good mad scientist, he had tested it on himself. Whether or not it had worked was still up in the air. He had been too preoccupied with the side effects.
The trip to Muir island had been uneventful. His reception, however… well, that had been understandably confusing. He had had a bit of difficulty convincing them of who he was, but in the end, Moira had recognized his voice and he was admitted into the facility. After a brief discussion, he was allowed to search for his quarry.
He knew exactly where to look- the tallest tree on the grounds. “Connor!” he called as he approached. “Are you up there?”
Connor had seen the incoming aircraft as soon as it had crested the horizon. Visitors. Always with the visitors. Usually they had nothing to do with him. And that was just as well. There were things for Connor to do, like observe the daily oscillation of waves which crept up and down the shore with the tide.
Each wave was incrementally different, so little that few people could observe them individually. But Connor did. Probability calculations gave him the micro differences to serve as the variable range. From there he could calculate the numerical set between arbitrarily defined parameters. The world was vast and complex, but in the end it was merely a machine. A big, interconnected machine.
"Connor! Are you up there?"
Who was this? Connor snapped out of his daydreaming calculations and saw...
"Bwwwwaahhh!" Connor brayed at the big, hulking beast. How did it know his name? Was it an Unseelie fae come to steal him away to some dark demesne? No. Those were just myths. Even so, Connor sprang to the top branch of the oak tree and shook his fist.
He had expected this. Still, at least Connor had not attacked him. Briefly, he considered climbing up there, but decided that would only frighten the boy more. “Connor,” he called again. “It’s Hank McCoy. I know I must look a fright- in fact, that’s why I’m here- but you must recognize my voice if you listen.”
If this was a trick, then Connor would put it to the test. He fumbled with the device that Professor X had given him only months prior. It only took him a moment to type out his question. "WHAT IS THE CAUCHY INTEGRAL THEOREM?"
Hank chuckled. Yes, how many people would know that? Hank theorized it was only himself and Connor on the island who would even know the words, much less what they meant. “The Caughy Integral Theorem,” Hank called back, “states that if a complex function is analytic in a region and you integrate it around a closed curve within that region, the result is always zero!”
Satisfied by the test, Connor flipped off his tree branch and landed in a crouch in front of Hank. It took him only seconds to ask his question. "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? IS IT CONTAGIOUS?"
“It is definitely not contagious,” he assured the young man. “I was attempting to create a serum that would effectively block the X-gene from Sentinel scanners. What you see is the result of the first mutant testing. I… had not counted on this particular side effect.”
Connor looked horrified. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" He began to wonder if Hank was a mad scientist. "I DO NOT CONSENT," he typed, just to make his position clear on being a test subject.
“No, no,” replied Hank quickly. “You misunderstand. I am not looking for another test subject; I seek assistance. I have been over the formula every which way I can think of and not only can I not see where I’ve gone wrong, I cannot work out how to reverse it. I was hoping you might be interested in having a look at it.”
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE SMART ONE." Connor shook his head with a surly grin before typing more. "WE SHOULD GO INSIDE. DO YOU HAVE YOUR FORMULA?"
Hank chuckled and held up the accordion style folder he’d been carrying in his massive hand. “Of course,” he said. “I’ve brought all my research and even a phial of the formula for study. Don’t worry- it’s triple sealed and wrapped in bubble wrap.”
Bubble wrap? Connor arched his eyebrow. Everyone knew phials were carried in secure containers. This was clearly bribery. "LET US ASK MOIRA FOR A LAB," he typed, excitement overtaking his face.
"Nae need, Connor," said Moira. Once she saw that Hank had wooed Connor down from his tree, she had come walking over. "Hank alraedy raquaested oone bafore he arrived. 'Tis raedy when ye are."
Connor grinned at them both.
Inside the auxiliary lab, Connor was going back and forth between two tables. One had Hank's research notes sprawled out while the other had several piles of Legos meticulously sorted by size, shape, and color. Step by step, Connor was reconstructing the chemical formula for the serum in a three-dimensional framework.
Which is something Hank had never thought to do. It was actually a fairly genius idea, which would allow both of them to view the formula on an atomic level and perhaps find some answers. However, he said nothing, only allowed Connor to work at his own pace while waiting patiently.
The serum was broken down into four smaller components.
1) Mutant Gene Blockers: A blend of DNA-targeting molecules designed to bind to specific X-genes related to mutant abilities. This binding process temporarily suppresses the expression of these genes.
2) Genetic Reversal Catalyst: A chemical compound that triggers a controlled genetic reversal process. It shifts the subject's physical appearance back to a more human-like state, reversing mutations.
3) Stabilizing Agent: A carefully balanced stabilizing agent that ensures the safety and effectiveness of the serum. It prevents adverse reactions and maintains the stability of the formula.
4) Delivery Nanoparticles: Specially designed spike proteins that encapsulate both MGB and GRC to serve as carriers for the serum's active components.
Satisfied that the serum had been reconstructed according to Hank's formula, Connor turned his attention to Patient Zero. "DO YOU HAVE A GENETIC SAMPLE OF YOURSELF?"
“From before I took the serum?” asked Hank, already flipping through more papers in his file. “Luckily, I had the foresight to cut a small tuft of hair and swab my cheek. I’ve got the information here,” he said, producing a paper with a bare minimum of information, the pertinent X-gene information highlighted in yellow. “And the extra samples here,” he added, producing a small plastic bag with a swab inside and a second bag containing some dark brown hair. “A current sample can be provided at any time.”
"YES." The simple reply was a request for all of the above. "WHAT WAS YOUR ALPHA TEST AND YOUR CONTROL SAMPLE?" Connor could dig through the notes but it was far faster to ask.
“I had to be awfully creative with the alpha test,” replied Hank as he quickly plucked a few hairs and handed them over. “I was able to find flowers with odd mutations. I fed them the serum for several days and then used the sentinel head we found to see if the mutation was still detectable. Unfortunately, it was. But! We also had an albino rat and after taking the serum, he was undetectable. And not blue.” He took a moment to take a fresh swab of the inside of his cheek. “I suppose I should have performed more tests, but I got impatient. As for a control sample- that was impossible to find. As humans are each so different from one another, unless I could find mutant twins, a control was not possible. The best I could do was all other mutants at the mansion.”
Connor nodded, listening as best he could while completely absorbed in the 3-D Lego model while cross-referencing Hank's notes.
"I THINK I FOUND THE PROBLEM," Connor typed with one hand. "BASED ON YOUR GENOME, THERE IS A RECESSIVE REGENERATION MARKER THAT WAS NOT ACCOUNTED FOR IN THE MGB SERIES. THAT MEANT THE STABILIZING AGENT WAS UNSUCCESSFUL AND THE GENETIC REVERSAL CATALYST ALTERED YOUR PHENOTYPICAL EXPRESSION. YOU SUCCESSFULLY GENE-EDITED YOURSELF, A PROCESS WHICH COULD HAVE KILLED YOU IF NOT FOR THE DORMANT REGENERATIVE TRAIT IN YOUR GENOME."
Hank could feel the blood drain from his face. “You mean to tell me I almost died?” he replied. “Oh my stars and garters!”
Shaking his head, Connor clarified his meaning through typing. "YOU WOULD HAVE DIED IF NOT FOR YOUR RECESSIVE TRAIT. IT IS POSSIBLE THAT YOU MAY HAVE DEVELOPED AN ADVANCED REGENERATIVE CAPABILITY LATER IN LIFE, HOWEVER IT APPEARS THAT WAS ALTERED INTO A RECESSIVE GENE EXPRESSION FROM AN EARLIER EVOLUTIONARY PERIOD."
“It appears I should scrap this project,” Hank replied. “The risks are too high. I simply grew blue fur, but someone else may have died.” He sighed. “I suppose this means there is no way to reverse this.”
Connor shook his head. "NOT WITH ANY DEGREE OF PREDICTABILITY," he typed. Then, looking at Hank's coat of blue fur, he gave it a stroke. "ARE YOU GOING TO START LICKING YOURSELF?"
And then, Hank couldn’t help it; he laughed. This whole situation was scary, but also absurd. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “Although I shall have to purchase more shampoo. And do something about my shower drain. And perhaps invest in one of those dog grooming brushes.”
"AT LEAST YOU DO NOT HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR CODENAME," Connor offered, not seeing the humor in Hank's remarks. "YOU NOW APPEAR AS A LITERAL BEAST." He paused for a moment. "IF I HAD A CODENAME, IT WOULD BE CAVEMAN."
“Well, why shouldn’t you have a code name?” asked Hank. “After all, you have assisted the X-Men many times. And if that’s the one you like, that’s the name you can use.”
That broke Connor's giggle box. He started laughing hysterically. "NO I HAVE NOT. I HAVE ONLY KNOWN PROFESSOR X FOR A FEW MONTHS. I AM NOT MADE FOR ADVENTURES AND MISSIONS LIKE YOU. WHAT NEED DO I HAVE FOR A CODENAME?" By the time his device got the words out, Connor had already moved on and was folding up Hank's research notes back to the way he had found them.
“Well, you’ve just helped me,” Hank pointed out. “And you helped Scott a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know with what, but he mentioned he needed to speak with you and then he left to do just that, so I assumed he did. And you definitely helped the professor back into his chair that one time.” Never mind that Connor had been the one to knock him over in the first place. Nobody needed reminding of that.
Connor took it all in stride with a shrug. "MOIRA HELPS THE X-MEN WITHOUT A CODENAME. I WILL PROBABLY GROW UP TO BE LIKE HER."
“That is true, but Moira doesn’t want a code name,” Hank pointed out. “Well, anyway, keep it in your back pocket. You never know when you may need it.”
"OK." Connor shrugged. The statistical probability of him ever needing a codename was not worth further deliberation. "I MADE A NEW SUDOKU. DO YOU WANT TO SEE IT?"
Without waiting for a reply, Connor pulled out what looked like at first like a folded roadmap. He unfolded it while the device finished posing his question to Hank. The sudoku puzzle had 41 grids, some of which were overlapping.
While Hank was more of a crossword puzzle kind of guy, he appreciated a good puzzle and therefore actually looked over the large Sudoku with a critical eye. “Wow,” he said, actually impressed. “This would take quite some time to solve.”
"YOU CAN TAKE IT WITH YOU FOR THE FLIGHT HOME," Connor offered through his device. An excited grin spread over his face.
That, however, was a bit farther than Hank would carry it. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” he replied, looking for all the world as if would like nothing better than to do exactly as Connor had suggested. “You’ve obviously worked very hard on it. I wouldn’t want to take your hard work away from you.”
"OK. IT WAS TOO HARD FOR MOIRA AS WELL." Connor typed his response and began to fold it back up.
Those were fighting words in Hank McCoy’s world. Granted, words were fists in his world, too, so he merely replied indignantly, “now hold on! I never said it was too difficult. I merely did not want you to have to part with it!”
Connor merely crossed his eyes at Hank before putting the folded paper away.
This made Hank laugh. “Scamp!” he replied. “I should take it just to prove I can solve it! But no matter. It is yours; you should keep it. I should probably find some lunch before I leave. Would you like to join me?”
Rather than reply, Connor snatched up his device and loped away toward the dining hall. Hank was one of the few people who could beat him in a foot race, so he wanted the head start.
Oh, it was a race, was it? Well, then! Who was Hank to argue. He took off at once after the young man, willing to let him win, but also ready to make him work for it.
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