Xaviers!

One swift trip in the jet (that barely even has time to reach it's maximum velocity) and Tosh, Sam and Robin make their way to where the Wills have been moved to.

The trio were led by Dr. Cole down into the third level of containment, which Sam might remember as being reserved for some of the more....irritable cases from her stay at the Happiest Island on Earth.

"Just before you called," he explained, "they were getting rather irritated -- and then they all paused, just for a moment, before continuing doing what they were doing. I didn't know about that on the phone, because, well, I was on the phone, and not down on the secure floor."

Entering a passcode, he opened up a heavy steel door that led to the rooms themselves.

"We've been attempting to use some sevoflurane to calm them down; it hasn't been particularly successful to this point, however."


Two glass-enclosed cells, on either side of the hallway, were full and happening. One cell still had the card game going on, and the bed, and the desk, both immensely messier than even when Tosh had seen them last; filled to the brim with bric-a-brac and odds-and-ends. The other side of the hallway was awash in plantlife, vines and leaves making it next-to-impossible to see within from the outside.

"Oh great, he opened up a jungle exhibit. "Hey!" she knocks on the foilage-filled cell before smooshing her face flat against it to get a better look and also make grimaces at the inside, because that's what windows are for.

A vine whapped across the glass, just above where Robin's face was.

"...well, I think we can see a bit of what's happened, here." She says, looking to the left and to the right.

"What, the store was out of lightbulbs?" a voice came from the playing-card side.

To Robin's credit she only flinches back a little bit.

"No, but the Jerk store called." she says, sticking her tongue out.

"I mean, I can't be the only one noticing certain themes emerging," she gestures to the two rooms.

"Unless you mean living and non-living, you've lost me."

"Jungle Boogie and... cluttered attic?"

"Bloody hell, you both were in his head with me."

"The question is, where's the third one?"

"Mulched on the floor of the lab?"

"Oh, I see your confusion," a voice came from the jungle side.

"Baked goods don't last too well in quarantine; and they don't have a point without someone to eat them," another voice said, coming from the bedroom side.

"And besides," a third voice said -- this time from the vicinity of the bed. "If you think there are only two of us in here...."


"You may need to take another count."

The last line was said, in chorus, by...an uncountable number of voices, in unison.

"Yes, yes, you're full of tinier men, we get it."

"We've still got the one who likes to be objects," she gestures, "and the one that likes to go a bit wild," she turns to the opposite side.

"Which means you're either suppressing the hero, or they're lost in this mess."

"Yeah, no. He's not split up, he's made a hundred copies."

"Hey Dad, could you, like, chill? We're trying to help and you've got some real Big Villain Energy right now."

"You say I'm the hero..."

"~And you're not the only one..~."

"Shut up. You say I'm the hero, but lost. And yet I was the only one out there, at the quarry, trying to understand the creature we fought, rather than just killing it."

"It's hard to understand things that are strange, isn't it?"

"And it's harder to exist as the strange thing."

"Easier to kill them."

"Or to lock 'em up, gas 'em."

"You enjoyed your stay at Muir so much, yes? I will say, the orderlies leave something to be desired."

"Told ya, he's gone full Legion."

"You still have this idea that we put you here because you're too different. And you're wrong. What you are isn't the issue. The MGH destabilizing you're psyche is. Even if Robin hadn't told us, it's clear less is more when you start multiplying."

"Ah, common misconception."

"MORE is more. It checks out, scientifically."

"I can be so many more things when I'm so many more things."

"It's much more efficient, I find."

"You and I both know science has little to do with how you operate."

"So, you're upset your way of understanding the world..."

"...doesn't always work? Hrm, yes, I see."

Some 'sad' Violin music started playing from deep inside the mess of jungly area.

"Well then, let's see if we can't..."

The flock reaches out, seeing if the various Wills are connected mentally.

"Dad... I know you're better than this. How many times have you stood up for what's right? So what if they don't get us? If this world doesn't get us? Since when has that ever stopped you? This isn't you, this is the drug making you think you found an easy way. Is this place worse than home? Duh, of course it is. It's two decades out of date. But our home is what it is because people like you didn't sit down to steep in their own drug-induced happy place but lead the way to a better world. For me. For everyone. And these people deserve the same thing, want the same thing. If they're still stumbling and misguided then fucking pull yourself together and show them a better way!" Robin pleads.

"You're a million years old, literally! They don't understand? Explain it to them. They still don't get it? Explain it to them again. You're sick of your course-load? Tell Lippincott to go screw! What's he gonna do? You're Will god-damn Stanton. No one can stop you when you do what's right. But this? This isn't right. You're snapping at your friends trying to help you just because they're not as amazing and understanding as they could be, as you know they can be. Lead them there."

The flock reaches out, seeing if the various Wills are connected mentally.

It isn't entirely unlike what she feels when she is the flock -- at least, in the real world, as opposed to the spooky astral version.

It's not that the Wills had suddenly become telepathic or something, though the fact that they could finish each other's sentences indicated that either there was some kind of lower-level consciousness sharing, or that they were very, very predictable.

It was more like...the thin connections between them were almost reflexive, like a web of nerves connecting individual cells. Kick one, and the entire menagerie might twitch. It would explain why the Wills here had some knowledge of the lightbulb shenanigans back home.


What it was not like was when he was split into Null and Void; those two were two halves of a whole, entirely separate from one another, with the hero sliced in half between them. No, this was a much more...connected arrangement.

There weren't two Wills here. There weren't 200 Wills here. Both rooms, surrounding them, was just one person. One sulky, paranoid person, but one person notwithstanding.

Robin Stanton wrote:"Dad... I know you're better than this. How many times have you stood up for what's right? So what if they don't get us? If this world doesn't get us? Since when has that ever stopped you? This isn't you, this is the drug making you think you found an easy way. Is this place worse than home? Duh, of course it is. It's two decades out of date. But our home is what it is because people like you didn't sit down to steep in their own drug-induced happy place but lead the way to a better world. For me. For everyone. And these people deserve the same thing, want the same thing. If they're still stumbling and misguided then fucking pull yourself together and show them a better way!" Robin pleads.

"You're a million years old, literally! They don't understand? Explain it to them. They still don't get it? Explain it to them again. You're sick of your course-load? Tell Lippincott to go screw! What's he gonna do? You're Will god-damn Stanton. No one can stop you when you do what's right. But this? This isn't right. You're snapping at your friends trying to help you just because they're not as amazing and understanding as they could be, as you know they can be. Lead them there."

"I'm tired of explaining, Robbie. I was oh, so tired."

"After so long, I think I'm entitled to a little rest."

"The MGH has given me new energy. Maybe out there, I could show everyone just what was what."

"But before I even got the chance, I was told to keep to myself. To stay private."

"And when I tried to get away, they came back. So they could throw me in here."

"And then my friends came here, and called me gross."

"True colors? Reflexive fear? I don't know; I'm not the telepath."

"But it goes to show. I'll never be accepted for what I am."

"Of course you deserve a break, everyone does. I dunno who told you to go away or that you're gross but they were being an ass. But you can't just give up and I definitely know that drugs are not the answer to anything. You could just leave any time you want. You could stop taking 800 classes any time you want. The only reason why you'd do this is either the drugs haven gotten to you that much or you've just... given up." she sniffs. "Is that how you want to spend the next decade or two? Is that who you want to be when we go home? It's us against the world and you're really gonna let the world win?"

"Sometimes, giving up is the right move."

"No sense beating your head against a brick wall for God only knows how many years."

"It won't matter much in the end anyway, right?"

"The courseload is....a different issue."

"We had a shite day where we were barely able to scrape together a team, nearly died, and were ultimately used for something illegal. We got no thanks for cleaning up someone else's mess, and a prison break happened on our watch."

"Oh yeah, and our friend instantly developed a drug habit and flushed himself down the toilet somewhere over the Atlantic."

"Don't bring the jailbreak into this."

"You didn't learn about that until after you dragged me here."

"I get that you were having a bad day."

"I've had a bad year, so my sympathy gland seems to be a little weak at the moment."

"Could you not, like, play some stupid blame game? We're supposed to stick together. Mutants. X-Men. Friends! Can you please just stop... arguing over who did what why when?"

"Yes, Robin," a chorus of voices responded.

"So. The question is...why are you here. Tosh already took one of me out; is this, like, a one at a time thing?"

"We're trying to help. We're just not very good at it."

"No, Will."

"Tosh didn't take one of you out."

"I did."

"Because I removed the MGH from that one's system."

"OK, well, erm, I meant 'out of Muir', but that's...good to know."

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"That you 'killed' one of me?"

"Oh, please. The Morrigan and I have seen death before."

"'Ts why I'm still here."

"No, I'm telling you what's on the table, here."

"Because you deserve to know that much."

"You're saying you're going to do it again, here, yes?"

"There's an alternative."

"Go back down to a manageable number of bodies, so you won't simply drop dead."

"Then, stop producing MGH and talk to us."

"I'll be here throughout the withdrawal, if you'll have me."

"'Manageable' is a matter of opinion"

"And without MGH, that number is one."

"But..."

"Alright. We can talk, at least."

"I'll try to limit myself to one snarky answer per question."

"Unless it's a really dumb question."

"I'd invite you in, but, you know. Dr. Schicklgruber over there would have objections."

"If you can condense down to two, we can get you in the same room with yourself."

"And if you feel exactly the same about this without the MGH flooding your system?"

"Well, that's point proven, isn't it?"

"Alright. Fine. Why not."

And then, there was a *whirlwind* of activity, in both rooms. Playing cards, desks, beds, the table, the light fixtures, the paint on the wall itself, all twirling and swirling and slamming together, until nothing but a grey blob of clay was left sitting in the one room.

The jungle, on the other hand, started withering and dying, leaves turning from green to brown to black, as it faded away and crumbled into a black ash.