X-Factor Calling: Hank
X-Men: Movieverse 2 - Thursday, October 29, 2009, 11:50 PM
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A miracle has occurred! Hank is out of the lab. Probably for the first time in a while, judging by the state of his normally so crisp white shirt. Not much more than his crumpled shirt and tired features are visible to the camera that he sits facing. Those, and a few glimpses of the rather nondescript closet of a room that this advanced conferencing technology has been squirreled away in. Hank winces at the annoying fake ringtone used by the program, but waits patiently for his call to go through.
It does take a little while for the call to find an answer at the other end. When the answer does come, it is not Jean initially, but rather a fresh-faced young X-Man in training who is ful of excitement, chirpy greetings and assurances that Jean will be found -right away-! And lo, eventually Jean is found. She is not as fresh-faced, and certainly not chirpy, but the familiar green eyes and auburn hair turn up, paired with a slim hand wrapped around a coffee mug, and a warm, if weary smile. "Hank," she murmurs, other hand reaching to adjust some image control out of line of sight of the camera. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."
"I would guess that it is commensurate with my delight in seeing you also," Hank returns with an equally warm smile. "I am in such unfamiliar surroundings that even bare acquaintances could pass for life-long friends." His eyes linger on the sliver of her coffee cup with a certain longing, but he forces himself to come to the point. "I would ideally spend most of this call exchanging news, but there are sufficient pressures to urge me to limit myself to the matter in hand. What do you know of our situation here?"
There is silence for a moment as Jean studies a display off to the side of the camera pickups, eyebrows arching slightly at what she finds there. "The fact that your call is routing from Boston tells me more than I knew a minute ago, and I can make some guesses," she offers, squinting slightly as she attempts to peer past Hank on his side of the video screen as if hoping for some recognizable Boston landmark instead of the back wall of the closety little space he's in. "I'd guess that X-Factor is in the thick of what we've been busy trying to prevent here. No sign of a viral outbreak in New York, but the city is a powderkeg, and idiots of all genetic constellations keep playing with matches..." There's a weary lift of a hand to brush her hair back from her face as she trails off, then lifts her chin to study her hirsute colleague. "What more can you tell me about?"
"I'm not entirely clear on what details X-factor and the CDC will allow me to discuss, officially." Hank's brows come together and he pulls a bit of a face at the bureaucracy involved in sharing information. This is Jean after all. He adds a shrug, as red tape will ever be red tape. "I'm pretty sure that I can tell you that you surmise correctly. The team at large is lending their assistance to the government agencies working to contain and investigate the infection. I myself am working the temporary lab that the CDC has created for the purpose. Our focus is predominantly on a treatment for the virus. However it has been suggested that some adaptation of QuickID would be of value in assessing those possibly infected." He watches Jean's reactions carefully, to see if his information chunk was processable, and also if QuickID appears to ring any bells.
Jean's face, like that of many an older telepath, is quite masked when she wants it to be. Even still, a friend and colleague as old as Hank can probably guess even before she speaks that QuickID rings not just a bell, but a big clanging one. Her lower lip catches lightly in her teeth, as she admits that "I have some familiarity with it. I worked for a while with a young colleague over at the Shaw Research Centre trying to decode how the machines worked. I still haven't figured out -where- the science in them comes from, but I think I've got a reasonable working knowledge of how they use it."
Hank grimaces, nose crinkling and the corners of his mouth pulling down for a moment. It's clear the expression is not intended for his old friend, but the answer that he was afraid to receive. "My impression was that our understanding was not complete, but I had encouraged myself to hope that I was merely behind the times. Adapting it to our uses will be slower and less reliable without a complete knowledge of it's workings." He scrubs a blue hand over his face, restoring his expression to something tired, but neutral. "If you were forced to guess, do you believe that the technology can be repurposed in the way we wish?"
"The trouble is that there were leaps made that aren't in any scientific literature I've been able to find -- the company found someone brilliant and dumb enough to sign a full ND and not care about getting published." There is a moment's academic horror at the thought, before Jean turns to the subject at hand with a small nod and a close study of Hank in the viewscreen. "The QuickID units test for a highly-conserved and highly-specific domain of the X-Factor homeobox protein. They appear to be using a variant on column chromatography where the blood sample is rapidly run and the protein bound to an artificial receptor linked to beads, and eluted out if present, which pings the machine. Where the leaps in understanding are are is in how they make the machine do that. Substituting in viral proteins..." She trails off again, visions of capsids dancing behind abstracted green eyes. "Bahir al-Razi used to be one of your people. I could tap him. I think, given manpower, it's doable."
"Mm," Hank agrees, a thoughtful and mildly surprised stalling noise. "From what little I recall of his work, it sounds as though he might be valuable. I am less certain of his cooperativeness," he adds with a small amused quirk of his lips. "For the sake of those requesting I pursue this, perhaps you could send a copy of what materials you have on the QuickID. I can share it with my new CDC colleagues as well, and find out if they have any insights to provide. But," Hank hesitates, not entirely sure if he wants to ask or no. Then in a glance down he catches sight of his wrinkled collar, and the decision is made for him. "Might I impose on what I know is your terribly busy schedule to pursue this a little further?"
"What are your facilities like there?" Jean wonders as, off the viewscreen, her fingers begin to tappity-tap on a keyboard. "I'll send along what we've got in terms of specs -- Bahir has more, what with his SRC ties. I'll see if I can't add my voice to the pleas if needed -- and if you need more hands working on protein analysis, mine are yours to command." Apparently, the answer is yes.
"Our facilities are surprisingly well equipped considering the time frame in which they were assembled. However, they are largely cobbled together, and can in no way compare to a full scale research lab," Hank replies with a faint shrug. "We could certainly use any assistance you can provide or send in our direction. I believe the appropriate phrase is 'all hands on deck'. However, the CDC is reluctant to share any of their samples, data, or results. I am uncertain whether I would be allowed access if I were not actually working alongside." He shakes his head slightly and lifts a leathery blue hand into the camera frame briefly in a helpless gesture. "I will do what I can to encourage them to include you in the loop. My direct liaison is eminently reasonable at least."
"If the news can be extrapolated from, that's got to be at least a Level 3, probably Level 4 virus you're playing with, given that there's no cure or treatment." Jean murmurs, with a peer over at Hank that's slightly worried for all of her cheerful offers to dive in and help -herself-. "And I haven't heard of a Level 4-class facility in Boston, unless they're shipping everything down to Atlanta. Keeping samples close-held is what I'd be doing... but you should have some emails with attachments heading your way. And I'll help with whatever you want me for. X-Factor may be poaching half the team," she murmurs, with a twitch of dark humour to Hank and his leathery hand. "But I think there's a pressing argument to be made about saving more lives with science. I'll give you Bahir's contact info if you don't already have it."
As far as levels and news extrapolation, Hank simply nods and look serious but calm. Even to one who can read him well, his manner is only one of fatigue."I may have his information among my files somewhere. But it also might take me an epoch or so to unearth it, so a refresher would be much appreciated," he replies lightly.
Tapitty tap tap. Apparently another email is being composed at that request, Jean once more catching her lower lip in her teeth until she can send it chasing after the first. "There," she says. "Now don't go re-enacting The Andromeda Strain without me, you understand?"
"I'll be sure to wait until you can assist me in the reenactment before attempting it," Hank assures her with a flash of a smile, and a return of the usual sparkle of humor to his eyes. "Despite the attraction inherent in reserving all the potential glory for myself, I might succumb to a certain level of scenery chewing without you to restrain me."
"Well, we can't have that," Jean murmurs, her own eyes twinkling, if tired, amongst an expression gone carefully solemn. "God only knows what's coating the scenery down there. As a doctor I really can't stand by and allow it to be chewed."
Hank gives in to a chuckle at that sally, the sound deep and rich even through the distortion of a cheap microphone. "I would be the very last to go against doctor's orders," he adds. But then his expression is slipping to something more regretful and he says, "I suppose that if I am to accomplish anything I must return to my work. My thanks for your help."
"Keep safe, and keep careful," Jean bids, words warm and her smile a genuine one as farewells are offered. "And call me any time, Big Blue."
"And the same for you and any calls you might consider making," Hank replies with a small smile and a parting nod. Then a click, and the blank screen of a cut connection.
Absolutely!