[h1][b][i][color=goldenrod][center]Nina van Essenhout[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

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[img]https://media.giphy.com/media/f59D09QC4Oqd2/giphy.gif[/img]
[sub][color=goldenrod]Location: The Facility[/color][/sub]
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As Pietro suddenly sped back to the trio in the corridor, Nina waited for Damon before answering. She'd become the de-facto leader of their little group without any prompting from anyone else, but she couldn't just abandon an injured kid to go and help the others. Thankfully, Damon seemed content for her to leave - and if the growling was any indication, so was Ayita. 

[color=goldenrod]"Alright."[/color] She replied softly - gaze darting towards the dead Wonderland only momentarily before landing back on Damon. [color=goldenrod]"But if you run into trouble, let us know. Pietro will be able to help you far quicker than I could."[/color] Removing her jacket as promised, she left it by Damon's side for him to tie around his leg himself. She didn't want to risk getting near Ayita, not as this stage.

Straightening up from her crouching position, Nina looked to Pietro. However, before she could say anything, Cassandra's voice came crackling through her earpiece. Good news! That made a total of three Brotherhood members down now... but then, the worst news.

They'd lost someone.

Nina's heart and expression sank. This was the exact reason why she had wanted to come on this mission, the exact reason she temporarily joined up with S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place. There were young, innocent lives at risk. And now Oshea was dead. She couldn't recall exactly how old he was, or even much about the kid - Nina hadn't had much interaction with many of the younger X-Men before starting this mission. Swallowing a lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, Nina replied to Cassandra.

[color=goldenrod]"Aegis here. Ran into two Brotherhood members. Wonderland is dead, Richard Laine got away. Damon is injured... thankfully not severely."[/color] Said in a stilted, husky tone, Nina stared determinedly at a spot on the floor in an attempt to keep her composure. Such a waste of a life, snuffed out over a ridiculous war with his own kind. Was this truly what Magneto wanted? A survivor of one of the most hideous war crimes in history, now content with murdering innocent children? After a brief moment of silence, Nina looked now to Pietro.

[color=goldenrod]"You and I may as well regroup with one of the other teams. Are you able to take us to one of them?"[/color] Hopefully Pietro wouldn't feel too put-out in offering Nina a "lift". It would save time if they were both travelling at super-speed, and time was currently in short supply. 


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[h1][b][i][color=lightcoral][center]Charlie Farrier[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

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[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/44/52/6c/44526c15a623d68c2cb01e6981b3896e.jpg[/img]
[sub][color=lightcoral]Location: The Facility[/color][/sub]
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Cassandra's praise was barely heard by Charlie, who stood there dumbly as she began tying up their new captors. He'd actually helped this time, having singed Othello quite badly. There was still that dark temptation to just roast them both while they sat unconscious, but he already felt queasy enough without causing more death. The other half of him wanted to look at Oshea - maybe drape something over him or place him in a peaceful position like they did in the movies... but he couldn't bare to look, let alone touch him. All he really wanted to do was retreat into his hoodie and curl up in a dark corner, but there was still work to do. People to save, and all that.

Although preventing himself from dissolving into a useless slump of sadness on the floor, Charlie still remained silent. He stared forcefully at the door while Cassandra went about her business in trying to find information; pretending to be on the vigilant look out for more foes when in reality he was trying to ignore the strange ringing in his ears that had began the second he heard that sickening snapping noise. Despite the fire that had just erupted from his palms before, his hands began to grow cold, and delicate patterns of frost started trailing along his fingers. Grief was apparently a great fuel for his lesser-prevalent powers over ice.