nextgenerationmarvel | Teenage Mutant Pizza Fail

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Teenage Mutant Pizza Fail

What did one feed a boy who could turn into various turtles? Brooke Wyngarde wasn’t all that sure, but internet research had pulled up many different things that a turtle ate or could eat - including greens, shrimp, cuttlefish, and pellets and flakes specifically created for the diet of a turtle. Dairy products, though, apparently weren’t one of the healthiest things you could give a turtle.

It was with this list that Brooke had created a pizza that she was sure would get Pete Eastman to open up to her, minus any of the empathic manipulation that Rachel Grey-Ramsey had expressly forbidden her to use on Pete. She looked down distastefully at the shrimp and cuttlefish mixed with butter lettuce, pellets, and calcium powder, and pushed the box away.

She’d already sent ~~a missive~~ an invitation for Pete to meet her in the kitchen, and was patiently waiting for him in what she considered to be one of her most approachable outfits.

Certainly the green would put them on some sort of even standing, no?

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D'Artagnan quietly and calmly watched Brooke wander around the kitchen with a pizza box in her hand. He leaned forward and rested his arms on the top of the chair back.

"Aye, I eat meat of the cow."

"Let's just call it beef, okay?" Brooke didn't like thinking about where her food came from.

"So, this turtle thing? Five of you, one body. How does this work?"

"However thine wishes run," he answered amenably. He was not bothered much where his food came from. Just that it ended up in his stomach.

"I am not aware of the others or how their being comes to flesh. When I see an opportunity to be free, I take it. Young Master Eastman would know such details better." He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I see," Brooke said, carefully placing slices of roast beef on a slice of buttered and horseradished bread. "Have you ever...rescinded an opportunity to be free willingly? To let Pete come to the fore?"

D'Artagnan tapped under his mouth with a finger as he considered.

"Mayhap, I have. But what chances I don't take are usually spoken for by another." He was conscious of time passing when he wasn't at the fore. When it got too idle for him, he elbowed his way out.

"So you're all aware in there, and you're each fighting for a little piece of dominance?" That was actually very interesting. But how did Pete, the boy whose mutation this was, deal with that?

Was it at all similar to cases of MPD?

He was silent for a moment as he tried to figure out how to explain it. It was a natural part of being to him so he had no idea how to tell someone who didn't live that way.

"I am unaware of what happens when I am not at the fore, but I am aware of the passage of time." That was the best the forthright samurai could come up with.

"That's so...odd." She tilted her head to one side, deep in thought for a moment, before snapping out of it and walking a sandwich over to the turtle. She took a look at the glass of water she'd had specially prepared - half-drunk and also a failure - and replaced it with a glass of minty limeade.

"Who is the strongest personality of you five?" She wondered if Pete might be the weakest, being a victim of his own mutation.

"My thanks for the improved repast, Lady Wyngarde."

He shrugged his scaly shoulders before picking up the sandwich.

"We all have our strengths. Sometimes it depends on how Young Master Eastman feels on if we are able to garb or not."

"You're welcome," Brooke said as she took a seat next to him, with her own sandwich. She stared at it for a moment and then pushed it away. It wasn't really the sort of thing she would eat herself.

"Tell me," she said. "If you wanted to, would you be able to relinquish control to Pete? Or is it a Russian Roulette of personalities? Relinquish control and whomever has the strongest urge then comes to the fore?"

D'Artagnan politely as possible munched his sandwich. He tried not to get crumbs everywhere.

"Mm. Mayhap he will come out. But no guarantee. I am not knowledgeable on his motivations." Though if Brooke were trying, she would sense two different emotions from the turtle. A calmness right next to a nervousness.

Oh, Brooke felt it. But she couldn't reach out and manipulate it.

She'd promised Rachel, and for some ridiculous reason, she actually found herself respecting Rachel.

Still, she could discuss things. That's what she was there for. "You know I'm an empath, right? That means that I can feel and sense emotions?" She leaned back in her seat and studied the turtle. "I feel calmness and nervousness. Those are...two very opposing emotions."

There was a little surprise in the calmness now.

"Struth?" He managed after swallowing a bit. "I am unfamiliar with many of the powers wielded by people in this shire."

He set his almost finished sandwich down for a moment. He took in a breath and summoned his chi. He tried to bulk up his defenses to block being read. "Did that work?"

Brooke reached out with her powers again. Indeed, the readings of nervousness had died down. But she knew they were there, she'd felt the emotion, and now she knew what she was looking for.

Still, it all went unmanipulated.

"Yes. Though now I know what I'm looking for. How's the sandwich?"

He picked the sandwich back up to finish eating it.

"It is delicious, lady Wyngarde. Thank you for this repast." He went back to calmly eating his sandwich. Though this time he kept his chi defenses up so Brooke would not get unsightly emotions all over her senses.

"You're welcome." And then, without any segue, "Let's talk about those mixed emotions."

The turtle tilted his head quizzically at the un-segue.

"My emotions are steady," he noted. He had had a natural progression while seated with her in the kitchen. However, he couldn't feel Pete's emotions like Brooke could.

"Yes. Yours are. But there's another emotion there, and though you're masking it, I can still suss it out. Is that Pete?" She wasn't beating around the bush here.

But she also wasn't being her usual bitchy, tactless self.

Be proud, Rachel. Be proud!

He nodded. "That would be Young Master Eastman, aye."

She was being forthcoming and polite, so he did not see why he couldn't as well. He did not know how the mechanics of his being went, but it seemed no one else did either.

"Can you feel what he feels as well? Or is it just what you feel?" She paused. "I'm sorry, I'm just curious about the nature of your being. I have to admit, as an empath, it's very intriguing."

The turtle shook his head. "Nae. I know only what I feel."

He patted his belly.

"And that is no longer famished thanks to your graces. And questions are no vexation."

"Good. I'm glad you found that moderately edible. Because I'm not much of a cook," she smiled. "I'd grown up with my nanny-slash-maid having done everything for me, always." She shrugged, then, and added, "Not that I'm going to - I want to make that clear - but has anyone ever forced one of your personalities in and forced another out?"

He scratched his chin as he did not point out she did not actually put anything to flame and thus, did not cook. Silence was the better part of diplomacy here.

"Mm. Not that I know. August personages have conversed us into letting go. Whoever is strongest takes over however."

"Have you ever considered, I don't know, going into some sort of therapy? I mean, not that there's a mental issue here, but...just to figure this out? Each of you is missing out on a huge chunk of life living like this. And the fact that you all are fighting to be the strongest...I'm not sure that it would be healthy in the long run."

He squinted at her a little. "I am of sound mind, and my existence is what it is. It is Young Master Eastman who holds the keys to the castle."

The turtle shrugged and stopped his miniscule squinting.

Teenage Mutant Pizza Fail

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