nextgenerationmarvel | Let's (Not) Get Physical

"Hrrk!" Brooke Wyngarde groaned as she took a hit to her sternum and stumbled back, falling on her bottom quite ungracefully. She glared up at the masked Friends of Humanity thugs that the Danger Room had generated for her to fight and rose to her feet again. This wasn't easy. Or fun. For years, Brooke had been content to simply use her mutant powers when danger arose, but she'd been told time and again by Rachel that she needed to do more, that she needed to be able to take care of herself in case something ever happened to her powers - mutant power dampeners, or a reality warper going crazy and trying to wipe all mutants from reality.

So, here she was, dressed in one of the standard navy blue and gold X-Men uniforms, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, failing miserably against hard-light holograms masquerading as humans.

And they were programmed to completely ignore her powers, so Brooke had no choice but to fight like some sort of heathen ninja.

This is why they funnel the souls of us delicate society roses into hardened Asian bodies, Brooke surmised. They were meant to yank out two swords and go to town on villains. It's in all of their movies.

Still, Brooke scrambled to her feet and took up what she assumed was a defensive posture. It was, technically. If one was defending oneself from a game of dodgeball.

One of the Friends - hilarious in this context, that - made a move for Brooke before she could do anything more, and two of his comrades moved behind her and grabbed her by each arm. She was, for all intents and purposes, captured. The one heading towards her pulled out a taser gun, and Brooke's eyes widened. These were hard-light holograms, yes, but that was going to hurt like hell. Frantically, she tried to recall maneuvers she'd seen Psylocke, Elektra, and Kitty Pryde perform in the videos that Rachel had forced her to watch. All that came to mind were poor choices in costume and Psylocke continuously rambling on about the focused totality of her telepathic power or something.

In short, nothing helpful.

Closing her eyes, Brooke took in a deep breath and lashed out with a kick, coming up short.

Funny how that happened when you didn't have four inches of designer shoe strapped to your foot.

The taser shot out and Brooke held in a scream but...nothing happened.

Suddenly, there was nothing holding on to her arms and Brooke fell again.

She opened her eyes. The holograms were gone. The program had been shut down.

She scrambled to her feet and looked up expectantly at the monitoring room. Her teacher for the day, Brooke was sure, would have tons to say about her poor performance today.

Well. Some people simply weren't meant for physical altercation.

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Doug could program the Danger Room like nobody's business. And he was pretty proud of this particular scenario.

"So," he said, turning on the speakers. "You've dead."

"Oh sure," Brooke said darkly. "This coming from the man who used to hide behind a tree anytime the tough got tougher." Her expression softened, then, and her shoulders sagged just a little bit. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. It's just...this is frustrating."

Edited 2014-06-05 04:45 (UTC)

"It wasn't always a tree," Doug said. "Sometimes it was a rock."

There might have been just a hint of amusement in his voice. "All right," he went on. "Tell me what you think you could have done differently."

There may have been the slightest hint of a smirk on Brooke's face, but she hid it well. She'd never admit it to anyone, except for maybe Stephanie, but Brooke was genuinely starting to like it at the Institute.

She reached up and pulled the clear elastic off holding her hair up off, shaking her dark waves free. There. She felt better already.

"I could have used my powers," Brooke said. "But that aside? I'm not really built for physical fighting, Mr. Ramsey. Well, my powers aren't." Pause. "How...did you deal with having non-offensive powers on your team?" Another thing she'd never admit to?

Asking Doug Ramsey for advice.

Well, damn if that wasn't a piercing question. Doug's thoughts turned back to all his own battles with feeling useless or feeling depending on Warlock to protect him.

"Not... always as well as I should have," Doug admitted. "But part of the thing of it is, the New Mutants, at least originally, weren't intended to be a combat team the way the X-Men were. Not that we didn't end up getting into all kinds of trouble anyway.

"But what I learned was that even if I wasn't strong, I was smart. I could think, I could plan. And when I combined that with 'lock's muscle, we were an unbeatable team.

"But there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't wish I had powers like Sam or Bobby."

"Yeah. I...understand that." Regan Wyngarde. Martinique Wyngarde. Her grandfather, Jason Wyngarde. Other powered family members - their powers were all more offense-worthy than Brooke's own powers were.

And her father was like the Professor Xavier of empaths.

Meanwhile, Brooke could hardly influence three people at a time, couldn't fight worth a damn, and...

She sighed, heavily.

"I've always had people around to do things for me," she admitted. "Having to throw my own punches...it's not easy."

"It's not," Doug agreed. "On the other hand, as my powers continued to grow, I discovered that my ability to read body language was so precise, I could intuit most of what someone was going to do in a fight. Combine that with some judo and akido lessons, and I turned into a pretty decent fighter in a pinch.

"It's not inconceivable we can find a way to make your powers work for you better too."

Brooke considered that for a moment as she adjusted the gold belt around her waist. "So, switch from the tongue fu to some kung fu, and learn to use my powers to read my opponent's emotions before they make a move, and I might have the upper hand." After all, Brooke had generally only used her powers to oppress others' emotions and make them feel what she wanted them to feel.

"Right," Doug said. "It's probably not going to be as accurate as telepathy or what I can do, but you can learn a lot from reading emotions, and use that to your advantage."

"Please," Brooke said. "The mind can play tricks on you. The heart doesn't." In other words, empathy? Far more reliable, Doug. No matter what your wife might say. "Feelings happen quicker than thoughts."

"Perhaps," Doug said, diplomatically. "Regardless, with time and practice, we should be able to help you refine your abilities you so you more easily predict what people will do."

He went on, "I'll discuss it with the other instructors, but we should be able to see about getting a few live volunteers to help with training."

"Can we start easy?" Brooke asked. "I mean, okay, not easy, because I'll never learn. But I'm not quite ready to, you know, face off against Wolverine or Psylocke quite yet." Sure, she had her ego, but she was also wise enough to know her limits.

He stifled a laugh. "I'll see what we can do about that. Professor Moonstar, maybe."

"You...realize she probably dislikes me more than even you do, right?"

"Now, now. She's a professional. She knows how to put her feelings aside for her students."

"That's good, because half the time, I can't put my feelings aside for anyone." Pause. "It's an empath thing. Genetics. I can't help it."

"We can help with that too," Doug said. "We'll get you there. Eventually."

Let's (Not) Get Physical

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