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Character Quote: Switching to Plan B. Making up Plan B as I go.
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Age: 26
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Joined: 12-January 17
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Last Seen: Aug 15 2018, 08:46 AM
Local Time: Aug 15 2018, 02:22 PM
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Forge

X-Men Gold

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Jul 3 2018, 06:09 PM
A tool clattered to the ground, which was the fourth time Forge had dropped that particular tool. Wihio again grabbed his cybernetic hand and turned it over. Checking it out with a discerning eye that had no real idea what it was looking for. Forge pulled his hand back and shook his head. "It's not the hand." He simply said, retrieving the tool from the floor and turning back towards what he was tinkering with.

The bartender at the Baccarat stood off to the side, not sure what to do with the Native man who had bellowed something about even flows and proper syrup to carbonation mixing in the soda dispenser. He was even more unsure what to do when the guy hopped the bar and had the soda dispenser disassembled before he could even object. Now it seemed the guy was having trouble getting the parts put back together. Finally Forge paused and let out an exasperated sigh before rising to his feet and walking out.

That had been yesterday.

Forge knew what the deal was with his lack of concentration. He had not had time to ponder the dream he had in the Incubation tube. The concept of Eagle Plaza had been one he had had for a while. He had debated the idea with a few people from time to time. His lack of concentration had nothing to do with seeing his concept come to life so vividly. His lack of concentration had everything to do with who had also played a large part in that dream.

So much had been put into perspective for Forge while out in space eluding the Brood, and later confined while they waited to be, for a lack of a better word, debugged. The simple, smaller things played out in his mind. Conversations over an ablative laser array. The trip into the woods before they encountered the poachers. The dance after he had brought Merry back and the conversation over the Laser array turned death beam.

One variable had been constant through all of those memories that had fluttered through his mind in those quiet moments while trying to stave off the end of his existence as he knew it. A variable that urged him forward without him aware that it was, in fact, a driving force.

The front door to the manor swung open and Forge strolled through. Not taking time to say a single word to anyone in the entryway as he strolled right past and straight into the kitchen. "I solved the problem." he simply said. Giving her the grandest of smiles before promptly sweeping her up and giving her the kiss that had been staring them in the face for so very long.

Firestar
Feb 21 2018, 07:12 PM
Forge was not so thrilled with the situation they had found themselves in. The only real high light of the whole experience was he was no longer a thirteen year old with a tendency for dangerous invention. He was certainly not looking forward to deconstructing the various things teen Forge had built over the past month or so. Some of those things he knew what they were. Young him had known and either by a gift of the mists or a curse, he had retained the memories of his younger self. From the grenade he had shown Warpath to the lose of his leg for a second time.

All that needed to sit on the back burner as their was more important things to think about and get taken care of. Namely, figuring out how to get off this continent all while coordinating and supporting what was essentially a three or four front conflict. His fingers wrapped on the makeshift table as he watched Blink begin to ferry off the various groups of people. The time had come to get down to work.

"Alright, so we're triage. We have some tourniquet's, slings, and splints made, but we may need more. Dr. McCoy has done what he can to identify plants with medicinal qualities." Forge said, turning his attention towards the pile of scrap they had ferried up from the nearby scrap yard. He was not sure if it was foresight on Merry and Co's part, or just sheer luck that they had gathered scrap over the three years they had been there, but either way, thank the Great Spirit that they had. Staring at that pile had given him some pretty nasty ideas though part of that was the not so pleasant mood Forge was in. Heaven help him if Blood Cultists happen by.

"Ruby, this is the device Calvin made to save my life with. It stimulates rapid blood cell production. If anyone gets brought in losing a lot of blood, stop the bleeding and give them one injection." Forge turned to Abra and handed him what looked like a periscope. "Keep an eye out on the perimeter. From here. No one goes anywhere alone." Grabbing his hand canon, Forge handed the light weight weapon to Glitch. "Anyone not friendly shows up, shoot it. Won't matter where, just hit it somewhere. It won't stay around to be shot twice." Forge had already decided the first thing he was doing once, they all got back, was replacing Luca's hand with a cybernetic one. Though that would have to wait for the time being. All hell was breaking loose in several places. Though Forge did give Luca an look that said he understood more than most anyone else what the young man was likely going through. Whether Luca wanted to admit it or not. Forge knew he eventually would. It was practically an inevitability with an injury like that.

This was the part Forge hated the most... The waiting.

Beast
Plasma
Dec 19 2017, 07:52 AM
The Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation in Montana. That was where Forge had first experienced the manifestation of his mutation some twelve years ago. That experience had not been all that difficult. The Reservation was pretty sparse when it came to technology. All they really had was the most common of things. Appliances, cars, trucks, nothing at all considered high tech. The tribal Shaman Naze had also been there. He was able to calm Forge's mind with some natural teas, and take him deep into the woods, albeit to Forge's great protest. The process to learn about his mutation and impose a degree of control over it had not been all that strenuous.

Then the timey wimey stuff had happened, and dialed Forge back to thirteen when his mutation had manifested. To make matters worse, he was not on the Reservation with its limited technology. He was at the Mansion with all of its highly advanced technology. A lot of which he had built himself making the second time around a very strenuous experience.

Everywhere he turned, his intuitive mutation was being put on blast by everything he looked at. From the tablets the students carried around with them, to the Android girl that was walking around. The hidden turrets buried beneath the yard. The classrooms and observatory and the little spider robot that trailed along behind him like an over protective sheep dog. Everything was a mechanical energy assault on his mind with no peace and respite from it.

The only time Forge found any sort of peace was when he was actively building something. Though most times when he tried to build something and relieve some of the pressure someone came along with another round of "No Forge," or "It's not ok to us the TV remote to open the door to the lower level so you can play in the lab that used to be yours." It was all becoming way to much for the young Native inventor. Everything was not what it could be. Everything needed to be fixed. Everything called for him. Taunted him. Lured him to tinker with it. He could see every design flaw. Every stress fracture. See what it was and what it could be.

So much information all at once and no matter where he went that he finally sat himself down at the bottom of the steps to the second floor and stared at the floor. His hands rubbing at his temples. A massive migraine had sat upon him. Like thundering waves crashing against the rocky shoreline. His skin tone had paled a bit, and his eyes wide open as he stared at the wood flooring. At that one panel that was loose. Slowly rocking a bit in place as he tried to rub that migraine out of his temples, but failing to do so.
Nov 8 2017, 09:49 PM
"No Forge."

He had been hearing that all day long. "No Forge, the trash disposal does not need a field that causes rapid decay of organic material." Followed by "No Forge, the already advanced high definition TV does not need to beam images directly into the brain." There was the advanced mechanical spider that followed him around, seemed to be there to assist, but always ran off when he started to tinker with someone only to come back with one adult or another just so he could be shoo'd away from what he was trying to work on. He had tried to even work on the spider but after an hour of trying to get it to stand still Forge had finally given up. His eye caught by something else that only resulted in yet another round of "No Forge."

No one seemed to understand the fundamental drive. The need that he had to tinker with what he was looking at. The sheer compulsion that rested behind his mutation. Had he his memories Forge could have explained how living through the early stages of his mutation was a lot simpler on the Reservation, where technology was not as advanced as it was here at the Mansion, where everything he looked at was in such an advanced stage. Where everything he looked at was so fascinating and begging to be tinkered with. Begging to be upgraded. It's true form and function revealed through laborious intuitive invention.

Mechanical energy was everywhere he looked, and no matter where he went it called out. And everywhere he ended up he was interrupted by the same two words. Like a build up of stress, Forge just needed to get it out. The need, the itch of it all, needed to be let go. He needed an outlet, something. Forge could feel the tension from the whole ordeal, and that was when he remembered seeing something that had peaked his interest while he was down in the med lab after the accident, as the doctor called it. There was a door with the word "Forge" written on it. He had a room all of his own that would not have people telling him no. Though getting to it was a problem since the door to the sub level would not open for him.

"I can fix this." Was all he had to say to the little robot spider, which prompted the spider to assume Forge meant his de-aged nature. The spider seemed to want Forge restored more than anyone Forge had meet so far. Mostly out of some programmed sense of self preservation. Or at least Forge assumed as Wihio, who Forge had renamed Tarantulas after the spider like Transformer, opened the door to the sub level and skittered off to Forge's lab, where Forge had found all manner of wondrous things to tinker around with.

"Oh look." Forge said in a bit of an excited manner, drumming his fingers against one another like some mad scientist in a cheesy B movie. "Ablative laser array for interstellar travel. I bet that is what this is." He said, making a bee line straight for Angelica's side of the lab. To which Wihio made a bee line straight out of the lab as Forge eye balled Angelica's research work. Staring intently at the set up. His mind taking in all the intuitive information it could as he looked over its form and function. Its current state and the most exciting part, its potential. "Hmm. Lasers... Lets do something different." And Forge set to work, letting his hands do what they had been itching to do all day long.

Firestar
Oct 4 2017, 08:47 PM
A quite day around the Mansion. Quite days meant Forge got restless, and when Forge got restless things tended to be disassembled in mass. The target for Forge's technological boredom today just so happened to be the Rec Room. Several of the Gaming systems were not running at peak efficiency, which only meant by the time Forge was done they would be head and shoulders above anything available on the market for years to come. The pinball machines needed retooled and the air hockey table needed to float the puck on anti-gravitational field in order to reduce the friction and thus improve game speed. Mutant kids and enhanced reaction times needed something that was a challenge after all.

So there Forge was, along with his backpack sized robotic Spider assitant. The Rec Room looking like a Best Buy had exploded in it. His intuitive invention mutation guiding him from project to the next as he disassembled and reassembled. Spouting off commands as he asked his assistant for one tool or the next. Every so often getting into a spat with the ornery thing as it decided that it wanted to do something else. Which was just its programming telling it to interrupt Forge's thought processes from time to time before Forge ended up building a fission powered X-box. Again.

"I swear, if you don't hand me that arc spanner I'm going to turn you into a toaster." Forge said with a an arched eyebrow, momentarily staring down the robotic spider before glancing back at what he was working on. "Hush. and hand me the other one." Forge chuckled a bit before setting off back work.

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