revivalproject | Make your Statement, face your fear.

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Make your Statement, face your fear.

WHO: Jonathan Sims & YOU
WHERE: Jon's Calibration Room
WHAT: Explore the Archivist's mind
WHEN: During the Calibration Event [ June 3rd - July 10th ]
WARNINGS: EYES - Body horror, possible mentions of unsettling events including kidnapping, death and dreadful monsters

The Archivist's office is a mess. Most offices are. Especially offices located in basements. Offices that belong to equally chaotic archives. And the archives of the Magnus Institute are incredibly chaotic. Gertrude Robinson has seen to that. And yet the mess in this office isn't hers. It's the mess of the current Archivist, right now seated behind his cluttered desk, appearing even smaller than he actually is, the small lamp on the table serving as the only actual source of light in this room. In front of the Archivist sits a small pile of statement files on a dining plate, but his attention isn't on the files, it's on his visitor.

There are more of these files spread all over the room. Cardboard boxes full of them stacked high and pushed into whatever free corner has once existed in it. Further boxes are stacked less high or are plain lying around, some closed, some opened, some rummaged through. Other, smaller boxes that aren't filled with files join the previous ones. There are also a few metal shelves covering part of the walls. And file cabinets. There are more files in these as well as more boxes and books. Most of them scientific in nature, some deal with the arcane, myths and legends. Various types of tape recorders and boxes of tapes are also widely strewn about as well as loose pages of paper, the occasional tea mug and cobwebs. For some reason or another there are at least a dozen fire extinguishers to be spotted throughout the room, and it likely isn't due to the clearly used ashtray or the golden lighter with a cobweb design engraved onto it on the desk near the Archivist's dust-covered laptop, untouched cup of tea and the sole human rib. Aside from more stray sheets of paper and some writing equipment, a single book also resides on the desk, its title introducing it as A Guest for Mr. Spider.

Though there is more to be found in the various shelves as well. A knife as well as a cleaver, an unsuspecting whistle that seems to be surrounded by an odd fog and will vanish should one try to reach for it. Underneath one of the shelves, there even is a plain cardboard box filled with C-4 plastic explosives. Further up, a roughly football-sized dark sun dares the visitor to look at it to plunge them into utter and complete darkness. The frisbee some may recognize as a certain someone's shield seems a little out of place as it lays unassuming on one of the higher shelves, covering an odd little action figure from view.

But maybe one feels more compelled to look out of the window, suspiciously present in this basement office. Outside lies the vastness of space, set to incite the feeling of falling right into it unless one pulls away from the sight in time. Or the human-sized mannequin standing motionless in one of the corners, wearing an ancient gorilla skin along with its top hat and a wide, leery, painted-on grin. It has no eyes. The pulsing, black and red veins creeping along the walls of the office and present themselves in varying sizes and thicknesses may also draw the visitor's attention. Or the seemingly harmless and somewhat misplaced looking yellow door draws them in, just there on the wall behind that coffin lying on the floor as if it belongs there. Thick chains are wrapped around it with a padlock holding them close, key stuck inside and inviting the visitor to unlock it. Just ignore the large letters carved into its wood imploring you to 'DO NOT OPEN' the casket. It'll be fine.

Yet... How tempting all of these things may be, the visitor may be unable to entirely ignore the MASSIVE EYE taking up the entire ceiling of the room, glowing an eerie green and watching their every move. Or any of the other eyes scattered around the room. The walls, the cabinets, the shelves, the side of the Archivist's desk, the corners, the floor, the Archivist's forehead. All shapes and sizes and colors and all of them watching the visitor unblinking, unjudging. Just following their every move around the room - Just as the Archivist himself does.

Maybe you want to look around, and maybe you just want to take a seat in that single empty chair before the Archivist's desk. There is just enough room between it and the casket to not feel too cramped in. As for the trap door next to the Archivist's desk... Now that one won't open just yet.

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Oh dear. A potentially troublesome visitor. But... What can he do aside from watch?

The Archivist clasps his hands together quietly, the numerous eyes scattered around the room all trained on the mutant. When Tommy eventually points out Cap's shield, Jon raises a brow and looks up towards the item in question. Then he shrugs.

"I don't know. It's... Not mine." Neither the shield, not the toy made to look like it. Though he has a guess why it's here.

"Why's it here?" Tommy counters, looking at the man in a leery manner. Clearly he wants to reach for it. In fact, he's moving closer, hoping to grab it. And stares up at it. Considering. "You got the hots for Cap to? Because seemed like you were all over Tony back there."

It's the question that earns Tommy an indignant look, the Archivist's fists clenching on his table. The observation that follows the question has Jon glance away, attempting not to appear too flustered.

"...Tony wanted it." He then admits. "At the carnival. He... Made me win one for him."

"Yeah, he's always had an obsession with Cap. Doesn't work out well for him."

Or for Cap. Tommy grits his teeth against the memories.

"What happened?" It's a casual question. Or at least it's meant to be casual.

"Not happening, because I can't trust you to keep silent."

And the knowledge would... it would break Tony. And Steve.

"And if you try any of that compulsion shit, we'll see if my powers work in the mind. If so, man, that's aneurysm central I think."

The Archivist remains silent for a few moments, then inclines his head.

"Are you threatening everyone in their own mind?"

"No, just the assholes who threaten me," Tommy counters. Yeah, he's totally here for dirt. "Or did you forget that you did that? You threaten a lot of people? Bet that's somewhere here in books."

And he's not even remotely bothered by the fact that he's doing it.

"I haven't given you a nightmare, Tommy." Jon replies with a sigh of defeat "And I still remember what you told me. I apologize that it happened, but I can't change it. My powers do not entail changing past events."

But of course they can talk about it.

"Nightmare?"

Tommy definitely as a question about that. "You're not THAT scary looking."

"And that's a relief." That he still looks like a regular person.

And this is all the context you will get on that, Tommy.

Sure, he'll find it out. And he grabs the frisbee down, then bursts out laughing.

"Fuck, you've got a whole boner for Tony."

"T-T-Tommy, please!" Jon all but sputters, launching to his feet, face red the very moment Tommy grabs the toy, triggering the rather specific memory of an argument, a rather humiliating game of duck fishing and fades off into the beginning of what may have been a lecture on the Avengers.

And while Jon is rather happy that the memory doesn't play out in its entirety, there is no denying the strong, underlying emotions that carry the scene. The yearning, the jabs of self-doubt, those bouts of determination, the embarrassment and of course that impossibly to ignore excitement looming about everything. The excitement about having the other man's attention, be it teasing and humiliating, annoyed or entertained doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Because Tony is there. With him. And- Christ, it HAD to be Tommy, right?

And yet even as the memory fades, Jon can't exactly help that feeling of longing to settle again. He yet keeps his eyes averted from Tommy - At least the ones he has control over, which is purely limited to his two regular eyes, of course. He inhales sharply through his nose, then exhales, then insists "Th-there... There's nothing inherently wrong with that!"

"Yeah there is, it's Stark. Guy is, like, ancient. And prone to sleeping around," Tommy dismisses. But he's not trying to be cruel. When he looks at Jon, it's actually with something like pity.

"No point. Heroes? We throw ourselves at shit and die. And he's worse. He doesn't have powers. He's just... human."

"W-well? I am human, too. And we're the same age, so... That makes me ancient as well." Is he just stubbornly defending himself now? No. He's defending Tony, a scowl forming on his face. The pity... He doesn't want that.

"He didn't hesitate to come to your help when Billy was- Not himself, remember? Tony even died! You... You shouldn't talk about him like that."

"Seems fake, but okay," Tommy shrugs, moving to keep looking around the room. his fingers clearly itch to touch more things. In the end, though, he moves toward the statement files. That's probably safe.

"That's the thing. Stark owes us that much. Probably more. He wanted to kill my mom."

Wanda didn't deserve that, and he doesn't like Tony being close to ANY Wanda.

"You are saying he owes you to die." The Archivist replies, narrowing his eyes "-for wanting to kill your mother. Does that mean Billy also owes you his death?"

No. Jon doesn't know the full circumstances, but Tommy didn't offer much in regards of clarification either. The Archivist is also unfamiliar with Tommy's mother, leaving him to assume that he is missing some important pieces.

"No, that he owes us, and the guilt was what made him do what he did," Tommy dismisses. That's how Tony Stark works, get it? "He betrayed a teammate. He's partially responsible for the first time B and I died, in our last lives. So yeah, guilt. It makes you do things."

Tommy, your experiences and opinion with Tony will not alter Jon's feelings for this insufferable man. He gets that there is a lot he doesn't know about him, but... It's up to Tony to fill those blanks. So all that Tommy gets for now is an unimpressed glare before the Archivist gestures towards the Leitner book on his desk.

"Maybe you want to read something while we are stuck here together." He suggests, leaving out the more sinister details about this particular book. He doesn't think the book will truly devour anyone in here, but it may still be an uncomfortable experience for the mutant to be pulled through that little door waiting on the book's last page, compelling people to knock at it after they already found themselves forced to read the thing.

"Reading is not my thing," Tommy dismisses, moving to finally plop down into the seat. Why should a chair be anything like problematic? he has no reason to distrust a chair. Maybe he should.

And that may be a decision Tommy is about to regret. And one that makes the Archivist frown, given the mutant's earlier reaction to his compulsion. For the moment that Tommy sits down, he not only is hit by the strong urge to stay in that chair, but will also feel compelled to talk to the Archivist. To tell him a story of dread or even more of whatever other terrible secrets he may hide.

The Archivist reacts with a sigh, then sits down in his own place again, fingers tapping the top of his desk "You can't blame that one on me, Tommy. But I will listen." It's not like he has a choice in that matter anyway.

He. Didn't. Know. And Jon sure as FUCK didn't WARN him. Tommy just about wants to punch the man for the lack of warning. And he's vibrating as he tries to fight the compulsion again. Here, in the mind, his powers are stronger, at least these ones. Because it's in the mind that his ability to manipulate atoms themselves comes from. Sadly, it's debatable how much of this is real.

"In my world, people only like you for having powers if you're not born with them. People only want the ones who get blessed by alien artifacts, or who have technology, or who do something stupid and it fucks up their genome. Because anyone can get those powers, anyone can do that. Anyone can be that. But mutants? You know what they see us as? Weapons. And once they get their hands on you, that's it. All you'll ever be is what they want. Doesn't matter how strong you are, they'll break you sooner or later. I saw it so many times there, in that place they claimed was juvie. But it wasn't. It was a place they tested and cut and pried until you were theirs. Until you were nothing but a puppet."

There's so much to the story, and he's shaking, the seat vibrating under him.

The Archivist can see the young man's rage, and yet this is his mind still. Even his own powers work different here. Whether or not these dreams simply bring him closer to the Beholding, he doesn't know. But he has also seen some of the items here work differently than expected. In part even more dangerous, less predictable. And not all are tied to specific memories. He just hopes no one tries to rush through Helen's door before he figures out how that one works in his mind.

As for the piece Tommy spills before him - Right. He has already gotten the idea that Tommy's world is a mess. Politically? Socially? Both? Which is unfortunate - And nothing really anyone here can change. The one option they have here, is to listen.

"And they tried that with you as well - Turn you into a weapon." An assumption. And an invitation for Tommy to go on. This is obviously just the beginning.

He curls in on himself. Sure, he can't leave the chair, but he's still... able to react. And it's a lot.

"My speed manifested simply. No harm. A lot of mutants, when we manifest, something happens, big and showy. Me? I blew up my school. Instant fucking risk to the public. Sometimes the X-Men show up, take you somewhere safe, take care of you. Me? Jail. A juvenile detention center for kids with powers. Except it wasn't that. It wasn't corrections. It was government funded and all about, well... Figuring us out."

It will cure you they said. But he didn't want cured.

"Think about how useful it would be. A guy that moves faster than sound, many TIMES faster than sound. That can phase through walls. That can make things explode. I could be a weapon for them. That's what they wanted of me."

"I- I must admit that I don't understand the need of some people to weaponize everything." This is said with an underlying sigh from the Archivist, his expression having turned into one of sadness, his own two eyes dropped onto his hands while he listened.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. Jail and... Everything they did to you. I will not insist on the details." Even though those especially may turn out to be dreadful.

"Do you know why the people in your world are so afraid of... uh... Natural mutations? Is that- Is that a way to call it?

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