Tik tak tak.
Furry fingers swept across a large keyboard, prompting various charts and logs of information to pop up on display screens encompassing the diligent scientist in his own technological forest. Hank McCoy clicked on a few open windows, minimising several until he found what he was looking for.
"Eurika!" he proclaimed with joy, gripping the side of the desk and pushed himself away to spin victoriously in a circle on his chair, turning to the others and brimming with joy. "You're in luck," he said, beaming ear to ear, "I happen to have an old time-space contraption, fit enough for the job you want." Grinning, he flashed a pearly, incisor filled smile at his companions. Though fierce in appearance, 'Beast' happened to be the friendliest domesticated cat-person one could ever have the pleasure of knowing. And he was housebroken, too.
Psylocke exhaled coolly, commanding a demeanour fit for a leader stuck in similar, harrowing circumstances. Only then did she realised that she'd been holding her breath in nervous anticipation the whole time. "That's marvellous, Hank!"
Relieved to have finally heard some promising news this dark day, she relaxed a little and leaned against Angel's welcoming chest. Christened Warren Worthing III, he was Betsy's on-off boyfriend and resident feathery friend at the X-Mansion. She was extra thankful that Warren had been standing nearby, using his natural downy wings to environ her tender state with warmth and protection.
If the promising news of a possible way to follow Logan into the timestream impressed the others around her, they masked their astonishment well. Fantomex stood closest to Beast, a silent sentinel monitoring everything he was doing over his shoulder, showing more than mere amateur interest in his work. The peculiar furrow of his masked brows suggested to Betsy that the faux Frenchman was concerned about a particular detail, but she let it slide for now for fear of ruining the excitement of the moment.
Next to him sat Deadpool, perching on a cleared countertop, arms balanced on knees, his hands dangling freely between his legs. He seemed to appear very eager to let pass some whimsical remark, but for once he showed restraint and kept quiet, though such reservation was clearly beating him up inside.
"I am ever in your debt." Betsy mirrored Beast's warm smile, and moved to embrace his furry form. Warren followed her lead and offered his old friend a triumphant 'high-five.' They clapped and parted ways, Beast leaning back in his chair, moving this way and that, as Betsy and Warren returned to their previous place.
That was when Deadpool found the urge to break his vow of silence. "So we use this 'wibbly wobbly, timey wimey' dohickey to do what, exactly? Dial up the multiverse call centre and ask if they've seen our displaced, disgruntled doggy?" Launching off of the ledge, he huffed and spread out his arms, feigning hopelessness. "Who knows where that walkin' skeleton of a grandpa sent him to!"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Wade's right." Fantomex. "Also, given who is involved in this mess, I imagine a sustainable lead would be hard to come by."
"But that's the beauty of it," Beast intervened. "This device can also function as a tracer, a scent sniffer if you will. Simply add to it a sample, and it scours the vast and radically diverse timelines in all existence for Logan's particular scent, opening a portal to said place once it manages to get a fix on his current location."
"Hank…is that even legal?"
Warren's query about the device's present legality status was met with a cheesy, toothed smile.
"Well, I can tell that it's one-of-a-kind!" Hank let out a nervous laugh, ears twitching in that terribly feline manner upon detection of proximal audible tones. A lazy head lurched in the direction of a new query.
"How soon can you get it ready?"
Braddock had taken to filling the role made vacant by Logan's untimely absence. As went the status quo the team needed leadership, someone to draw the line, infusing constant morals to prevent unwanted deaths. Against her better judgement, she had stepped up and tasked herself with directing their shadow draped outfit. Beside, their band of macho-men could've done with a feminine touch.
Golden hues shone round with conviction as they peered above half-moon spectacles at the fledging stand-in leader.
"How soon can someone make me another coffee?"
This chapter ain't finished yet!
I must confess that I have a few chapters of this story scribbled down on paper, and I am determined to get it typed up, but, ah...as it turns out...I'm eeeaaassssillllyyyyy distracted. Go figure. xD
Please hang around for more to come! (Along with new one-shots and other stories too!)