ataraxion | v i d e o (001)

I'm not sure who thought putting me on a spaceship was a good idea. A remarkably large and by all means physically impossible spaceship, but that's beside the point.

[ The man in front of the camera doesn't seem like much at first glance. He has dark, curly hair that's making its way to gray, wears a well-worn tweet jacket over a button-down, and has a pair of glasses with scratches and bumps on its side. Most people would take him for an average, possibly even homeless, man. Most people would be wrong.

He takes off his glasses and cleans them, taking a moment to look at his surroundings. ] Every inch of this ship must be completely air-locked. [ He muses aloud more than he speaks directly to the camera, and although his brows are furrowed, but for a brief moment, there's also something akin to interest in his eyes as he looks.

He puts back on his glasses and crosses his arms, looking back into the camera. The curiosity is gone, his expression closed off again. ] Here are the important questions: who brought me here? Why?

[ He looks down, and when he looks up again, there's a glimmer of excitement shining through his walls. ] ...and is there a laboratory on this ship?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

We do have a medical wing, dependent on what you mean by biological reasons. Otherwise, I head the division classed as xenobiology and genetics, the latter being my particular avocation.

[ And he has been reviewing some replies, of course, reading between the lines made both explicit and not. Unsure, exactly, how delicate he should be. ]

Were you looking only for directions, or professional assistance?

[ He did, after all, ask for a laboratory -- not a scientist. ]

Not exactly looking for another doctor. [ He'd heard of Professor Xavier through the encrypted government grapevine in his time, but it only creates a very vague image of the man. He knows he has something to do with mutants, but that's about it.

Even if the man is used to biological abnormalities, Bruce isn't exactly ready to be an open book yet. ] Xenobiology doesn't seem like exactly what I need, but as long as they have equipment that can test molecular structures of my DNA, it's all I really need.

[ If Banner isn't prepared to be an open book, it's a little unfortunate he posted to the public network, isn't it? Charles' forehead creases at this explanation, before his smile turns up a little rueful, good humoured. ]

On the contrary, unless you feel as though this ship and its workings are native to your universe, you are in fact an alien life form. As we all are.

[ He sits back, moved to explain. ]

Not a one of us in our department are specialised in analysing extraterrestrial life forms. We've appropriated the department for our own purposes, which generally involves researching ship-related phenomena, but also assisting fellow passengers. Among us, we have werewolves, mutants, witches, vampires, and anyone in between who want to take a scientific approach in realising who they are, what they can do, and the limits this place has placed on them.

But that's neither here nor there. I'll attach the directions to the science department, although you'll find some areas off limits as long as you're not a part of it officially.

[ This message comes with a text file, describing the department's location. ]

[ That's quite a speech. Bruce almost says so except he receives the directions on his coordinator and puts his glasses on to read them.

The world got much bigger when New York happened. He can't imagine life in space would be any smaller. Part of him wants to know, to understand how monsters and aliens can exist, the part of him that loves curiosity and solving puzzles and helping people. A bigger part of him just doesn't want anyone else to get a hold of his DNA. There can't be any more deaths because of him, no mo butchered attempts to recreate or tame the Hulk, even in space. There just can't. ]

Thanks. [ He takes off his glasses and looks back to the screen. ] I'll probably stop by sometime soon.

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