Dedication fics. They pave the way to the future! Taineyah asked me to do a Forge humor fic. Since, apparently, I have no spine and am easily badgered into doing things. Like that time I signed up for the CD club… but I digress.
Since Forge is the main character, this required much research about the 70's. So, naturally, I consulted my beta: Pantherdragon.
Pantherdragon: Hi!
Kit: She knows much about the 70's… and Star Trek. The geek.
Pantherdragon: HEY!
Kit: So I began to write, with two other deadlines breathing down my back. And my beta has deadlines looming… LOOOOOMING. Yet we both continue to work on this.
Pantherdragon: Am I crazy? Or just insane?
Kit: I claim 45% of the first, 30% of the latter, and 25% fruit juice!
Pantherdragon:… You're a loony…
Learning New Tricks
Chapter 1 – The Return of Forge
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In the basement of a suburban house there was a time warp. From the year 2000, time suddenly took three steps backwards and then promptly fell on its face. The basement was the incarnation of all things 70's. A disco ball, black lights, a smoke machine, a turntable, multicolored lights, beaded drapes, a pet rock, and twelve happy-looking lawn gnomes decorated the darkened basement. Posters of bands such as the Bee Gee's, Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols, and neon, psychedelic black light pictures covered the walls.
And in the middle of the groovy mess, Forge was sitting in a beanbag chair. He was flipping through a massive stack of Entertainment Weekly, Times, and remnants of newspaper clippings.
"No way, bell bottoms are out? Man…" Forge turned the page, frowning at the pictures. After being rescued from 'Middle-space', he expected everything to change… just not to the extent it had.
His parents nearly had a heart attack when he knocked on the door, wearing exactly the same clothes from the day he vanished…
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"Hi mom!" Forge said as the front door opened, waving.
His mother was silent. Her jaw was hanging open, leaning forward like her eyes were going to pop out if she didn't get closer. Her hands fluttering weakly as if she was about to take off like a bird. Forge would have laughed if his mom didn't pick that time to faint.
*WHUD* "Mom?"
"Dear? Who was at the d…," Forge's dad inquired as he leaned into the hall, but stopped dead when he saw his son. "It's the vengeful ghost of our son! Uyoi asgina!*" Forge was then pelted with sand and dead animal furs as his father tried to 'exorcize' the spirit away. He quickly noticed this did not work in banishing the spirit of his 'dead' son, so he moved on to throwing other items.
"Dad! It's me, Forge! I'm not dead *OW*, yet!" Forge shielded his head from an airborne clock. "Dad! Clocks don't banish the spirit of the dead! *OW!*" Forge was knocked on the head with a Moody Blues record. "Oh haha, very funny. Geez, Dad, why would I be a vengeful spirit?"
"We burned Forge's favorite LP and scattered the ashes over his computer after he vanished, in order to appease his spirit." His father lobbed a lamp at his head. The lamp missed, however, smashing off of Forge's mechanical arm.
Forge seemed to be in shock. "You burned my LP's?!" Perhaps anger wasn't the best thing to express, for Forge's father had a wicked aim with drink coasters.
Eventually, his father ran out of things to throw, and 'ghost Forge' was still there. Thus he finally came to the conclusion that this was his son, and Forge found himself in a bear hug. "Boy! Where have you been for twenty years!? My god, you didn't even have the sense to call? Even collect call?!" Then Forge found himself immersed in twenty years worth of missed nagging.
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His parents had been unable to part with many of his things, so the basement was cluttered with all his memories. With the exclusion of his LPs' and his clothes --which had been destroyed or donated to charity—a good deal of Forge's things were left alone.
After the spirited greeting from his parents, Forge went to look through his things, catch up on modern information, and current times.
For example, currently, Forge was grounded. Yeah. That's right. His parents grounded a thirty-some year old man trapped in the body of a teenager. And Forge listened. He listened, if only for the soul reason that his mom is terrifying and his father still had many things to throw at him.
Now the mutant genius was going through all the books and recent magazines to try to catch up on times. "Janet Reno? I think I went to school with her!" Time magazine was thrown aside in disgust. "Uhg, time sure didn't improve that stella at all."
The door to the basement opened and his mother leaned down. "Forge! One of your little friends is here!" She announced.
"My wha?" Forge climbed out of his chair. He reeaaally hoped it wasn't one of his hippie friends. He hadn't seen them for years, but the results couldn't be pretty. Dropping the magazines around his feet, he made his way up the stairs, prepared to bolt at the first sign of 'blond and happy'.
Well, it wasn't a 'blond and happy' at the door, more like 'blue and fuzzy'. "Forge! I just came by to see vhat vas going on now." Kurt waved, his holowatch hiding the fur from sight.
Forge gestured the mutant in, shutting the door behind him. "Just booking up on recent news." A magazine was lifted and passed to Kurt.
Wagner flipped it open, raising one eyebrow in confusion. "Uh, Forge? I hate to break it to you, but… zhis is at least five years old." Another page was flipped open. "And it's an advertisement for computers!"
"I know. I can't believe how much they've changed since I was away! And here I thought my lab was state of the art, but these…" Forge took the magazine back, flipping through it again.
"Forge, you are going to start drooling if you keep zhat up." Kurt scratched at his arm in awkwardness.
From the kitchen, Forge's mom began to speak, "Forge, just take your friend down to the basement. Maybe he can help you clean it up." Forge sighed and lead Kurt down the hallway.
"Et vas nice meeting you Mrs… uh… Forge's mom." Kurt waved as they walked passed the kitchen.
While Forge tried to catch himself up-to-date with today's styles, Kurt poked about the basement. "Wow, itz totally retro down here. Vith a little cleaning, you could hold a rave." Kurt tapped at a disco ball, which began swinging wildly.
"Rave?" Forge echoed. Putting his magazine down, he reached over and picked up a dictionary. Flipping it open, he began looking through the 'r's. "Rave – variation of Raver, or revel. An extremely or excessively enthusiastic commendation: often used attributively –raver."
Kurt clarified. "Itz like a disco-tech… but vith more glowing."
"Are the shoes still large enough to destroy small countries?" Forge looked about at the junk in the basement.
"Bigger." Kurt's tail twitched in phantom agony as he recalled the time Kitty had accidentally trod upon it with four-inch platforms.
"Boss." The techno-genius nodded appreciatively. If he could survive big hair, large shoes, and hairy chicks, he was going to be just fine in this time.
Straightening up, Kurt dusted off his pants. "Vell, are you ready to go?"
Forge was feeling like he had suddenly missed some dire part of the conversation somewhere along the line. Somewhere between 'Hi, Forge' and everything else that was said. "Wait, who said I was leaving? I still have a lot of catching up to do!" Forge waved a magazine from the large pile his father had collected.
Kurt examined the magazine. "If you vere studing from zhis, zhen perhaps I should leave you alone." It may have been the plastic beads covering the light coming into the room, but Kurt appeared to be blushing purple. He closed his eyes and placed one hand over his face.
"Huh?" Forge flipped the magazine over, getting a good look at the cover. A woman on the cover was wearing buckskins and feathers. And that's ALL she was wearing. "Oh, I was wondering where this had gotten to." Forge cleared his throat, shoving it into the middle of the pile.
After Kurt was positive it was safe to look again, the argument spun to life. "You can't just stay here! You need to get out, see vhat's new."
"No way." Forge said resolutely.
"Yes way!"
"Hey, I made my choice. No X-men for Forge. 10-4?" Leaning onto his palms, Forge looked up from his beanbag at the blue fuzzy.
Kurt sighed, realized when he was outgunned. "Ja. But if you change your mind, just come to zhe institute and ve'll get a tour guide."
"Yeah, yeah. Check you later, Kurt." Forge turned back to his magazines. Kurt waved back, heading up the stairs out of the basement.
The world was not ready for groovy Forge yet. He was too… something. It wasn't modern, Forge was still trying to figure out just how a modem worked. Wait… there, now he understands.
Or perhaps it was Forge who wasn't ready for the world. He had just escaped from his prison of Bayville High. Spending twenty years trapped in a high school watching as everyone went by wasn't good for the ego. Forge had watched as bellbottoms faded out, replaced by flipped hair and bangles. The bangles gave way to slap bracelets and Velcro. The Velcro melted into parachute pants and then capris. Finally, they were back to bellbottoms... two months before Forge was freed. Now the style was cargo pants. There was no justice in fashion, it seemed.
Thinking it all over, Forge reached his decision. "Right. World is stupid, history repeats, doom doom doom. I think I'm ready." Forge dropped the magazines back down, having his fill of the current events.
"Forge! You are grounded!" His mother yelled after him.
"MOOOM!"
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Forge approached the mansion, pulling his truck alongside the fountain. Kurt had said to stop by when he was ready, so who cared if it was dark already. The radio ceased blaring Paula Abdula and Forge stepped out of the vehicle. The mansion was lit up but looked strangely empty, proving that the X-men did indeed have lives after the sun went down. As Forge headed for the door, he spotted a small group of boys on the lawn.
"I saw one!" One of the boys announced. It was Jamie.
"Did not!" Another snorted… also Jamie. Forge deduced that Jamie was stargazing with … himselves.
"Ow! Something bit me!"
"I did!"
"Shutup!" Immediately, the boys launched into a wrestling match, one Jamie trying to put another in a stranglehold.
Forge watched as Jamie tried to reenact the three (identical) stooges for a moment before heading towards the building. Knocking on the door, Forge cast one last look back on the fighting boys. The door opened while he was still watching the commotion and Forge turned to see Storm at the entrance.
She smiled, preparing to greet Forge when she suddenly frowned and leaned slightly to the side. "Jamie! You had better not be fighting with your multiples again!" She warned. One of the boys stood up, began pulling the fighting dupes apart, and tried to make them all look perfectly innocent.
"I am sorry, Forge, I did not know we were expecting to see you here." Ororo invited the inventor in. A single Jamie burst into the house, chasing a single duplicate. Ororo was barely managed to move in time to avoid the rush and brushed by Forge's shoulder.
Forge suddenly felt a swell of shyness hit as he tried to talk to Ororo. Aw geez, hormones. "Uh, that's because,… K-kurt invited me. Modern re-education." Forge felt like slapping himself upside the head. Boy, he couldn't get much more embarrassed.
"Ms. Monroe! Have you seen—oh! Forge." Amara stopped short at the kitchen doorway. Then she grinned, "Sorry, I didn't know you were chatting." Quickly, she scuttled back into the kitchen, proving that, yes, yes-indeed, Forge COULD get more embarrassed.
Before Forge could will the ground to swallow him up, the instant smell of sulfur and smoke exploded beside him. "Forge! You did come!" Forge found himself pulled into a fuzzy hug with little hope of escaping. Kurt pulled back, looking Forge over, "And you are still vearing your old clothes, too." He noted.
"What's wrong with my clothes?" Forge pulled on the white color of his lime shirt. Kurt said nothing.
That didn't stop Jamie from speaking though. "My dad used to wear clothes like that! Around the house, even! He looked like a old hippie! It's embaaaarrassing!" As all children, Jamie was horribly embarrassed by the idea that his parents had lives before him. In fact --if not for that horrible trip into Middle-space—Forge was old enough to be Jamie's father!
Humbled by the twelve-year-old's statement, Forge cleared his throat. "Right. So where did you plan on going?"
Before Kurt could answer, Ororo stiffened slightly as she received a telepathic message from Xavier. "I'm sorry, but I may have to change your plans. It appears that my presence is needed elsewhere. Professor Xavier, Dr. McCoy and myself must depart shortly."
"No problem, we were just leaving anyway." Forge waved his hand.
"That is the problem. If Kurt leaves too, there will be no one here to watch the younger mutants. Logan is off on his own time, and we are unable to reach him." Ororo looked over at Jamie, still trying to wrestle himself to the ground. Amara peeked back out of the kitchen, joining in the conversation.
"But it's just me and Jamie right now. I didn't want to see that bloody movie with everyone else, and Jamie was too young to go." Amara sighed in distaste. Being left with Jamie was almost punishment.
Kurt thought quickly. Forge needed modern re-education, and quickly. If left unattended, Forge could regress to one of those retro people dressed in throw back clothes and spouting groovy slang…. Wait… ok, he could become more retro. "I haf an idea!" He exclaimed, the tip of his tail twisting upwards. "Ve'll just take zhem with!"
"We will?" Forge looked at Kurt sharply. If he had stared any sharper, it would have been a flat out glare.
"Sure! Amara is a modern girl! She can help." Kurt wrapped his arm around Amara's shoulder, who now looked bewildered. "And Jamie… Jamie needs a babysitter who doesn't duct tape him to items."
At this point, Jamie finally succeeded in tackling his dupe to the floor and realized that they had just said his name. "Wasn't Amara raised on a island in the middle of no where?" Jamie asked. He was, of course, ignored.
Ororo sighed. "Forge, I'm leaving all of them in your hands. Please don't let them hurt themselves."
"Don't sweat it. What's the worst they could do?" Forge smiled at her.
"ORORO! My duplicate gave me a wet-wily!" Jamie howled, rubbing at his ear fiercely. Storm gave him a sympathy smile and then made her way to the hanger to meet with the Professor and Beast.
Amara pulled Kurt's arm off of her. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't as bad as it's going to get?"
Kurt was undeterred, quickly grabbing Forge's arm and towing him towards the door. "Come on! First we must get you some new threads." Forge gave a backwards glance to the house, his expression clearly reading 'pity me'.
* "Bad, Ghost!" from Cherokee language
