The X-Project

Namor gives Clint the lowdown on his current problems with annotations and visual references.


"And this," Namor said as his gestured across the painstakingly organized mess of notes that covered his desk and encroached to both sides and the wall above, "Is everything so far. Your opinion is too valuable to ignore, Clint, and I trust Miss Colbert when she claims that her predictions always come true." A picture containing a horde of skeleton warriors seemed to slightly confirm this in theory with their eyeless stares.

Clint tipped his head to one side and squinted a little at the array of multi-medium evidence laid out before him. "Okay, so wait - that necklace Sue picked up glows but only when you're around? And what exactly did Miss Colbert say? She's never drawn on a table for me or anything, but I've heard she's pretty reliable."

"The transcript from the encounter is near my tablet. The footnotes are my own thoughts and references." Namor paused, considering, "The early portions had to be taken from memory, but I was able to record the latter portion on Miss Colbert's phone."

Quirking a smile, Clint reached for the transcript of Miss Colbert's episode and began to read through it. Next to the transcript was the picture, so he looked at that, too. "Dude, this is just... kind of freaky. Precognitive events are seriously out there - did I ever tell you about how she gave me this massive bow when the Slendermen took us into the parallel universe? And it was awesome." He hadn't taken his eyes from the picture, flicking glances at it while continuing to read the transcript."

"You had not." He had puled up the other picture on the tablet for easy reference; the one with him and the tentacles. Then, consideringly, "I would presume that people are constantly tossing bows at you."

"Actually, no — or at least nobody did before the Slendermen. But that's why I got interested in archery. Cause seriously, that bow was as big as I am." Clint looked at the picture with the tentacles and made a face. "Dude, that's just creepy."

Namor sighed. "Incredibly so. I would strongly prefer to not die or sprout tentacles or fight the undead, but unfortunately precognition has historically never seemed to be useful until after the fact." He was irritated by this fact, and it edged acidly into his tone.

"Yeah, but don't try to avoid tentacles or the undead or you'll make them happen," Clint said, setting the transcript aside. "Besides, isn't being forewarned the same as being forearmed? Just be prepared for tentacles and the undead and you'll be a step ahead of everybody else."

"I will not live my life in paranoia," Namor said very matter of factly. "But it would be wise to have a plan." He gestured over to the quick sketch of the rune from Sue's necklace. "Susan's necklace likely does not play into Miss Colbert's predictions, but anytime 'magic' gets mentioned around here anyone under the age of twenty cringes."

There was a beat. "Being prepared for the undead sounds ridiculous. Should I carry a bat at all times and invest in an off-road vehicle?"

"That's because anyone under the age of twenty was probably here when Billy unleashed the spudpocalypse on us. I got pelted with potatoes for days, Namor. Days." Clint considered the sketch of the rune, tilting his head to the side. "Sometimes," he said, squinting distractedly. "Sometimes I really wish I could do that 'perfect recall' thing. Because I swear, I recognize that from somewhere."

Imagine the most deadpan tone possible and then mix that with the sneer of a disgruntled Attlani noble. Garnish with exasperation. Now you have Namor's reply: "That would be incredibly useful and convenient, and of course that means we cannot have it."

He sighed long as the two of them looked over the lot of information on the desk. "I had the same feeling." A beat. "The recognition part, not the root-vegetable flashback."

"He also made it snow inside once - all over the mansion," Clint said. "Seriously, though - that's a weird squiggly thing that I know I've seen somewhere. It's not... huh."

Namor clasped his hands behind his back as he patiently waited for the "huh" to resolve itself into speech. "Susan's necklace was from the scorpion cave from last summer. If anything, it matches runes from there."

"Right," Clint said, nodding. "But there weren't any..." He trailed off again, tilting the sketched rune back a bit, turning it on its side, and then holding it as far away from him as he could reach. "Dude. Wait — there were these things on the walls. I didn't think — but it's totally possible they were. If you look at it this way, it looks like one of the things I saw. They were made of shells but different colors so they were hard to differentiate on the walls."

"So the same symbol on the walls is inscribed, secretly, on the stone that stopped the scorpion attacks." There was a frown with this and a note of uncertainty. "We cannot know this for sure without reviewing the cave in detail. Did anyone think to take photographic evidence of it?"

"I don't think so - I think we were all like, 'Christ, let's get out of here before more scorpion statues pop out of previously unseen alcoves and kill us.' Not exactly the best mindset to start taking pictures. And the site was closed after our visit, wasn't it?" Clint asked, tapping a fingertip against the symbol. "Is this like... a different alphabet or something? Like Latin or something? I mean, I know it's not actually Latin, but it kind of looks a little like that but... not quite..."

"You are correct. It isn't Latin," Namor replied while deftly openly and swiping through a notes app on the tablet to illustrate. "It seems closer to the Cumaean alphabet, but there are no direct corresponding letterforms even back to the Phoenicians." He nodded, shifting his eyes back toward Clint, "Miss Sefton said she would ask Mr. Ramsey to see if this is a language."

"Good call," Clint said, nodding. He continued to frown at the sketch, then shook his head. "So... okay, what do you want to do now that you've got all this research and information compiled? Are we just waiting for people to get back to you with more info?"

"That is why I want to show you everything. I," and this was hard to admit for Namor,"Am not positive what to do but sit here and wait for things to unfold. It will be like waiting for a hammer to drop. It is difficult to remain patient."

"Gotcha," Clint said, nodding again. "So sitting around waiting for you to either sprout tentacles or be attacked by a tentacle monster are both out — why don't we see if we can get back into the shell cavern thing? Maybe the Professor or somebody here could pull some strings or something? Having more than one sketch of what might be a language would probably help Mr. Ramsey figure out whether not it actually is a language."

"The cave is still closed. Miss Sefton had a similar idea about visiting the site again, but I believe her specialization may blind her to other details." He did not say magic. It was easier to consider it a mutation. Predictable. Rational. "No plans have been formalized as she has many demands for her time."

"So we'd probably accidentally mess up somebody's super secret, sneaky plans if we waited until the fourth of July and, like, snuck around the 'do not enter' sign," Clint summarized. "It might be interesting, though."

Namor frowned. "I am not permitted to sneak."

"Why, because you're nobility? Or because you're bad at it?"

The frown deepened considerably. "My privileges have been restricted after the incident involving Miss Hayes. What is the expression? Three strikes and you are removed?"

"How long is that gonna last, anyway?" Clint asked, squinting a bit. "And they talked your dad out of making you go home, right?"

"Mr. Haller and Mr. Summers spoke to him, but he is only marginally convinced that Xavier's is a more beneficial learning environment."

"So uh," Clint said, eyebrows rising. "Let's keep you away from people who piss you off and, y'know. Might shoot at you. And then we can figure out this whole tentacle thing."

"So," and Namor folded his hands together patiently, "You see why sneaking off without proper adult supervision may be an ill-advised idea. I could ask Miss Sefton if you could come with us. Contrary to my earlier assumptions about this school, the adults do actually try to provide oversight." He did not add "mostly when you get caught."

Clint half-smiled. "No, it just means if we sneak off, we shouldn't take anyone else and we should definitely not get caught. And I should do all the talking so other people don't have the opportunity to piss you off."

"You are forgetting the part where we then explain how we tripped and accidentally fell into a cave to Mr. Ramsey and Amanda. My natural command and gravitas will only do so much."

"I know. I'm the charming part of this dynamic duo. Which is another reason why I'll do all the talking."

Clint received a long, unconvinced stare. "You are failing to convince me that this is a good idea, and I have the most vested interest in avoiding Doom and Ancient Magics."

"Eh, alright," Clint said. "We'll do it your way and go through, like, the legal channels and everything."

"Good," and Namor was visibly relieved, "I would not mind you using your 'charm' to accelerate Miss Sefton's schedule. She, presumably Mr. Ramsey by now, and Susan are the only ones who know the full scope of this. Well, and you."

"I dunno, Miss Sefton might not be all into my charm. I think she mostly knows me as that dude who precipitated the Spudpocalypse..." Clint considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "But I could still talk to Mister Ramsey. He could probably get Miss Sefton to agree to go sooner. I'll do that.. For now, I suggest we order Chinese and then I beat you at Tekkan again. Or we could do the sailing thing, though you were going to be all derisive at me about the lake. Look, I brought a menu. They deliver."

A good chunk of Namor's apprehension evaporated. "Sailing on a lake is a subpar experience for a novice sailor, but yes. Food now. Derisive lecturing later."