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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The room grew quiet and restless as noon grew close, then ticked by. Tobias waited for a few more minutes, but when Jules didn’t make an appearance after ten minutes, he decided lack of punctuality was her problem and she could get the information from… [i]someone else.[/i] He cleared his throat and in the silence of the room, it drew everyone’s attention to him whether that was his intention or not. He slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding before pushing off the table and standing upright. [color=796e9c]"Alright, well…"[/color] He nodded his head and dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. [color=796e9c]"If it isn’t obvious… I broke the rules and left the tower."[/color] He then motioned his right hand toward Bellamy who sat in the chair beside him. [color=796e9c]"[i]This is…[/i] Bellamy Drake."[/color]

There was a long pause as he let the truth of it sink in, along with any realizations, questions, or whatever else anyone was going to have before he continued. [color=796e9c]"Imogen used a cerebro to find out Bellamy was still alive and led me to her. She was being pursued by a dozen armed and armored men... I killed them all,"[/color] Tobias added matter-of-factly, without flinching or remorse. His words fell plain and honest and with a conviction that showed, without ever stating it, that he would do it again without hesitation. [color=796e9c]"There was also a sniper who got away. But they didn’t have any metal on them, which was… [i]odd.[/i] They didn’t seem to expect me because the men were… [i]inexperienced[/i] and easy to kill. But the forethought to prepare for me regardless is concerning."[/color] 

Tobias paused, running through the events of the night in his mind while searching for anything he might have forgotten, but also with no intention of sharing anything beyond their actual encounter. His gaze slowly fell to Bellamy beside him. [color=796e9c]"Did I forget anything important?"[/color]

Bellamy kept her eyes on the table while Tobias spoke, fixing on the grain in the wood so intently it began to blur at the edges, the lines and knots swimming together beneath the sting rising behind her eyes. Hearing it all laid out so plainly, the pursuit, the armed men, the sniper, the bodies left cooling in the dark, made her stomach turn slow and heavy, the memory of rain and mud and blood dragging at her insides until she thought, for one dreadful second, that the sandwich she’d forced down might come back up right there in front of everyone. 

And yet, when Tobias spoke of killing them, matter of fact and unflinching, Bellamy did not recoil. There was no fear in her, no sudden flinch at the shape of violence in his voice, because every terrible thing he had done that night had been done in the service of keeping her alive, and somewhere in the raw, broken center of herself, that had carved out a kind of trust she did not think she could ever offer easily again. It was frightening, perhaps, how instinctively she believed him now, how her body had already begun to treat him as something safe despite the blood on his hands, but the truth of it settled in her bones all the same. When he looked down at her and asked if he had forgotten anything, Bellamy drew in a careful breath that trembled halfway through, her fingers tightening uselessly in the oversized sleeves pooled around her hands.

[color=bdddff]"No,"[/color] she said first, but the word came quiet and rough, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment against the sudden rush of memory before trying again. She searched for something useful in the wreckage of the night, some detail that mattered more than the way her father’s blood had spread across the kitchen floor, more than the sound of her own breathing as she hid in the woods like a frightened child. [color=bdddff]"They weren’t subtle,"[/color] she said slowly, opening her eyes again and forcing the words out one at a time, as though speaking too quickly might make the whole thing crack open. After a beat, she found it easiest to look at Imogen when she continued, because there was something steadier in that direction, something that felt less like being examined and more like being witnessed. Her eyes burned as she held the woman’s gaze. 

[color=bdddff]"It was daylight. Anyone could have seen… it was like they didn’t care."[/color] One shoulder lifted in a faint, helpless shrug before her gaze slipped down to the table again, then back to Imogen as if she needed the anchor of somewhere softer to land. [color=bdddff]"I don’t think they expected me to be there. I was just visiting for—for my birthday, I…"[/color] Her throat tightened, but she forced herself onward. [color=bdddff]"I’m not much of a threat. But I think they would’ve sent more people if they knew. I probably wouldn’t have made it out of the house, but my dad…"[/color]

The last two words nearly undid her. Bellamy swallowed hard enough it hurt, her voice straining thin and fragile as she pushed through the knot rising like ice in her throat. [color=bdddff]"It was like he knew it was only a matter of time. He had a bag packed… but he gave it to me and gave me a chance to slip out. He… they shot him, that was the last thing I saw."[/color] Her gaze dropped and stayed there, fixed on nothing, because the image came too fast and too vivid the moment she stopped fighting it. Blood sliding in a red, terrible sheen across hardwood flooring, the broken shape of one father in the kitchen, the other still standing only long enough to buy her a chance at living. After that the words simply failed her. They dissolved somewhere between memory and grief, caught in the awful truth that sat heavy and undeniable in her chest. There were people in this room who would have given anything for Bobby Drake to be the one sitting here instead, alive and furious and telling this story in his own voice, and Bellamy was one of them. She bowed her head slightly, shoulders curling inward around that grief as if she could make herself smaller beneath it, and let the silence say what she could not, that she was here only because he was not, and there was nothing in the world that did not feel wrong about that.

Imogen listened intently, patiently. Her gaze never once shifted or looked away, letting Bellamy use her as an anchor. While the girl pushed through pain, discomfort, and memory, only compassion and warmth was reflected back from behind sympathetic blue eyes. When words gave way to memories of blood and death, she was tempted to reach her hand across the table and offer a small piece of physical comfort. But just as she considered moving, Tobias took a small step closer and rested his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder without a word, a quiet act of solidarity and warmth that didn’t demand attention. It wasn’t for him, it was for her. 

Myla settled a little deeper into her chair, as if sinking further into the black leather would somehow ground her and keep her own memories at bay. Her fingers subconsciously curled tighter around Theo’s hand as Roger’s voice echoed through her mind like a phantom she couldn’t shake. She remembered the sounds of heavy footsteps on old wooden floors, the clicking of guns’ safeties, the crash of bullets into drywall, and the ache of every hit. She weighed everything she experienced against Bellamy’s own story, the similarities and the differences. She was not forced to witness her father’s death. There were no words to soften that pain nor enough empathy in the room to help carry the burden. Myla could offer hollow apologies, but having suffered the absence of her own father for over a year, she knew first hand it was the last thing anyone wanted to hear. They didn’t want sympathy, but solutions… [i]and blood.[/i]

June grimaced, and for one awful moment Bellamy’s words tore something jagged open inside her, memory rising in flashes too quick and too violent to fully name. Rain slick brick, the hot punch of a bullet tearing into her side, bare feet slapping through filthy water, the sharp crack of bone beneath her fist, a man choking beneath her hands while her own breath came ragged and feral in the dark. She remembered the way anger had hollowed her out from the inside, cold and ravenous and merciless, remembered blood made thin by rain and bubbles breaking the surface of a puddle while something cruel and unrecognizable in her had smiled. Her father’s absence had sat inside that fury like a blade, Thomas’s name somewhere beneath it, every ounce of grief transmuted into violence so complete it had felt holy in the moment and monstrous the second after. The memory left a bitter taste at the back of her throat, and June’s nails pressed harder into the table as she forced her expression smooth again, every inch of her posture immaculate despite the ugly pull of it all.

[color=bdddff][i]It was like they didn’t care.[/i][/color] The words replayed in Myla’s mind until it snagged on her own memory and a realization that didn’t strike until that moment. She inhaled sharply, sitting a little more upright before her voice tentatively filled the silence like she was solving a puzzle openly in view of everyone else. [color=962929]"They attacked the Drakes openly,"[/color] she reiterated. [color=962929]"And I don’t recall ever hearing sirens."[/color] Her brows furrowed as her head tilted slightly. [color=962929]"I mean, there are always sirens in New York, but none were coming toward me. There were countless gunshots, someone was thrown from a window… and [i]nothing.[/i]"[/color]

She adjusted in her seat, almost like the conversation and discomfort was sinking into her bones. Her body subconsciously drifted closer to Theo’s, like his warmth and gravity were her center. [color=962929]"I mean it’s obvious they don’t give a shit about law enforcement… but it’s more than that."[/color] Myla shook her head slowly, unable to find the words or the answer. 

June had set the tablet down the moment Tobias began to speak, the soft clack of it against the polished table sounding unnaturally loud in the charged quiet that followed. She did not interrupt, did not shift beyond the faint, rhythmic tapping of the blunt edges of her nails against the tabletop, each measured click betraying the velocity of thought behind the stillness she wore so well. She listened to every word with the sort of focus that felt almost punishing, her dark eyes steady, her posture composed, while her mind raced backward through all the ways the night might have gone differently. 

[color=375a87]"Thank you,"[/color] she said at last, her voice clear and level despite the heaviness threaded through it, her gaze lifting first to meet Imogen’s, then Tobias’s. [color=375a87]"It was reckless, but you both did more than all of us last night. You took initiative and did exactly what my dad—"[/color] Her eyes flicked then, sharp and grim, to Magni, to Jim, to Theo, to Myla, the unspoken weight of legacy settling over the room like a second atmosphere. [color=375a87]"What many of our fathers would have done. Thank you for doing what I didn’t think to do."[/color]

Her gaze slid then to Alfred, and the tapping of her nails resumed, quieter now, almost thoughtful, while something passed between them in that strange, familiar silence that had always existed between old loyalty and inherited burden. It was not a spoken exchange, but it might as well have been. Alfred’s stillness, the subtle set of his shoulders, the knowing patience in his face; June’s narrowed eyes, the faint downturn of her mouth, the frustration of conceding a truth she disliked on principle. Her lips curved upward, but only barely, and only into something grim and rueful. [color=375a87]"They were right,"[/color] she sighed, and there was a distinct note of annoyance in the admission, as though she deeply resented the correctness of it. [color=375a87]"The team is our best bet."[/color] The words settled into the room with the weight of strategy and surrender both before she turned back toward Tobias, all business now, though the frown never fully left her mouth. [color=375a87]"How many did you take down? Other than the sniper, were there any distinctive weapons?"[/color]

Tobias’s hand remained unwavering against Bellamy’s shoulder like an anchor to ground her as the world was falling apart around them. He remained stoic and steadfast, the only hint of movement coming from his thumb as it moved back and forth in slow, steady strokes against her shoulderblade. He didn’t know how to handle gratitude like he was a hero that deserved it. The weight of it sat awkward and uneasy like a stone on uneven ground. He couldn’t look up and accept the unspoken title of something he hadn’t earned. The best he could do was nod his head, acknowledging her words if nothing else. 

When June asked how many, he looked up and answered without missing a beat. [color=796e9c]"Twelve."[/color] Tobias could see them standing beneath the downpour of rain, scattered among the trees, and illuminated by lightning as if they were standing right before him. He could recall the way the lug nuts embedded themselves into their skulls, and the way he turned the last man’s gun on him. But then he remembered the drive back and the quiver in Bellamy’s voice as the realization set in that she had taken two lives. Without thinking or hesitation, he held up his free hand slightly as if he had a temporary lapse of memory. [color=796e9c]"Fourteen,"[/color] he corrected. [color=796e9c]"There were two stragglers."[/color] His gaze fell to Bellamy, only for a moment, just long enough for a conversation to pass in a glance, for a silent understanding to be set in stone that he could carry that burden too. 

He then looked back up and across the table toward June as he shrugged slightly. [color=796e9c]"Standard issue pistols. Live ammunition. It didn’t seem like they were interested in taking hostages."[/color] Tobias looked up at the ceiling as he tried to recall anything of note. [color=796e9c]"They wore kevlar. I think the sniper had carbon fiber or something like that. I’m not entirely sure."[/color] His gaze fell and he caught a glimpse of the small cuts that speckled his arm, recalling the projectile that didn’t bend to his will similarly to the sniper’s weapon. [color=796e9c]"And a grenade. I tried to deflect it but couldn’t. There’s probably still pieces of shrapnel on the floorboard of my jeep if that helps."[/color]

A sad sort of smile weighed down the corners of Imogen’s lips. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her forearms against the edge of the table as she laced her fingers together. Her eyes squinted for a moment as she compared the various encounters that had transpired over the past couple of days. [color=a8f9ff]"Well…"[/color] Her voice cut through the stillness of the room in the way a politician’s did, measured and even with a natural sort of authority. [color=a8f9ff]"If we’ve learned one thing between June, Myla, and Bellamy—"[/color] She nodded her head toward each of the women as she spoke. [color=a8f9ff]"—it’s that they’re sloppy when it comes to unforeseen variables."[/color] A beat passed as she let her words sink in, tapping the tips of her thumbs together before continuing. [color=a8f9ff]"They were after Phil and got June. They wanted Myla, but then there was Theo. And then with Bellamy there was Tobias."[/color]

Her hands ran along the cool surface of the table like she was pressing fabric flat before pushing off the edge and slowly leaning back in her seat. [color=a8f9ff]"I agree with June,"[/color] she added quietly with a weight heavier than her words could portray as her gaze drifted past Magni toward her. [color=a8f9ff]"I don’t know if I’d call us a team… [i]yet.[/i]"[/color] She sighed softly, brushing her damp hair back behind her ears. [color=a8f9ff]"But I think our numbers and this tower are the only things shielding us right now."[/color] Her gaze fell to the table, following the grain pattern along its surface as her hand found Magni’s, seeking the comfort of his warmth and strength. 


[color=ed1c24]"Teams typically follow the rules."[/color] Jim barked sarcastically, his eyes still focused on the dimming screen of June’s tablets as his mind still remained focused on the schematics she had shown. His feigned disinterest betrayed the new concern over this mysterious sniper. The proverbial chess match was escalating beyond the opening gambit now, offering counter plays to their own efforts already. They saved one by showing their hand, and closing an oversight or weakness their secretive enemy had overlooked. When Jim did look up, he didn’t look to Tobias or Bellamy. His gaze was levelled to his sister, bearing that same exhausted look he had since everyone had arrived. [color=ed1c24]"Or do rules only apply to those of us without the right genes?"[/color]

The comment made Tobias’s body go rigid. The dig at mutants stirring something visceral in his core learned from years beneath his father’s tutelage. He could ignore anti-mutant sentiments and bluster around the world, but there was something that carved deeper when the slight came from someone he was supposed to be allies with… Someone he was supposed to trust. The muscle along his jaw tensed as his teeth grinded rather than letting his words escape. His hand upon Bellamy’s shoulder flinched, not like a tick, but like a twitch of subconscious control and restraint. With that singular, faint movement, the large conference table and all of the chairs in the room shifted a fraction of an inch closer with the quiet scuff of metal dragged across tile. 

Bellamy said nothing, but the breath she pulled in was sharp enough to hurt, her eyes widening as Jim’s words landed with all the cold, ugly familiarity of something she had spent her whole life pretending she could outrun. She knew what the world thought of mutants, but she had not expected to hear it here, inside the walls that had taken her in, and suddenly every careless, cutting thing Jim had said earlier twisted into a harsher shape that made something in her lurch violently. The room gave a quiet scuff as the furniture shifted toward Tobias, drawn by the invisible pull of his restraint, and at the same time the air itself seemed to recoil with her, the temperature dropping sharply enough to bite at exposed skin, a sudden fifteen degree plunge that swept through the conference room like the first inhale before a storm. Bellamy pressed her hands hard against her thighs, fingers curling into tight fists in the fabric as if she could pin herself in place, stop the cold from spilling any further than it already had, and without even thinking she leaned just slightly into the hand at her shoulder, into Tobias, into the solid warmth of him, as though his touch were the only thing keeping her from fracturing open entirely.

Jim continued on before Imogen could offer another explosive reply, his eyes darting back towards Tobias at the front. [color=ed1c24]"They managed to respond to your presence rather quickly, don’t you think?"[/color] He let that thought settle for a moment, tapping his fingers on his thigh like an impatient professor waiting for his students to answer a question. [color=ed1c24]"They have powerful connections to law enforcement and track our every movement, and they were ready with a counter strategy… even if it didn’t hold up to testing. But now…"[/color] Jim leaned forward against the table, his gaze passing over the rest of the room. He had to bite his tongue, June’s presence next to him looming. He was growing more convinced that her paranoia was not unfounded, and knowing that [i]some[/i] of the eyes staring back were plotting his very real demise was unsettling. He tried to hide it behind a pretentious frown. [color=ed1c24]"They know we have our own Cerebro and someone who is willing to run off and play hero."[/color]

Imogen’s body didn’t go hot with anger, but cold as a chill trickled down her spine slowly, sinking into her bone before settling in the pit of her stomach. [color=a8f9ff]"[i]Mutants?[/i]"[/color] The word was little more than an escaped breath of disbelief. Her head snapped around to face her brother, meeting the exhaustion behind his eyes with a silent fire that raged behind her own. [color=a8f9ff]"You’re making this about [i]mutants?[/i]"[/color] At first her fingers tightened around Magni’s hand before quickly releasing their hold, if only to save him from being an undeserving outlet, even though she knew she couldn’t harm him. Her voice remained terrifyingly quiet and calculated as her anger didn’t present itself with her usual shouting and destruction, but a more unsettling sort of acceptance that sat deeper, rooted and unyielding. 

[color=a8f9ff]"I found her with Cerebro."[/color] Each word was delivered meticulously, punctuated with a jab of her finger against the table and a sharp articulation. [color=a8f9ff]"Do you know how it works?"[/color] she asked with a venomous whisper and a small tilt of her head. [color=a8f9ff]"It seeks out people with the X gene… [i]Mutants, Jim.[/i]"[/color] Imogen’s gaze jumped back and forth between his eyes as if she was searching for her brother somewhere inside him, or perhaps just coming to terms with whomever was looking back at her. [color=a8f9ff]"I am [i]sorry[/i] that we fucked up the little chess game that you’re playing in your head. I’m sorry that we didn’t do things [i]exactly[/i] how [i]you[/i] wanted."[/color] Her words fell with a devastating sincerity, quiet and cold. [color=a8f9ff]"I’m sorry that us [i]mutants[/i] saved a life without needing your help. And I am [i]so[/i] sorry that I forgot to play the part of your useless, [i]stupid[/i] mutant sister for one night."[/color]

[color=a8f9ff]"Won’t happen again,"[/color] she concluded with an immovable sort of finality that sat heavy in the silence of the room. Imogen pushed off the table and for a moment she considered getting up and leaving. J.A.R.V.I.S. recorded everything. She’d be able to watch it back later or stream it from another room. But this wasn’t about her or her hurt feelings. This was bigger than either one of them and for that reason and that reason only, she remained. She turned her chair until her back faced the rest of the room, only leaving Tobias and Bellamy within view as she quickly wiped her thumb beneath her eyes then crossed her arms over her chest. 

Tobias studied Jim with a sharp sort of judgement that was plain across his face in the furrowing of his brows and the sharpness that lingered behind his eyes. He didn’t intend on saying anything, finding that tempering his anger and biting back his words often was the safest course of action… Until his attention settled on Imogen as she wiped a tear from her eyes. [color=796e9c]"Leave Imogen out of this,"[/color] he snapped, meeting Jim’s gaze from across the room. [color=796e9c]"It was [i]my[/i] idea. I went to her. You didn’t see what she went through…"[/color] He still remembered the fear in her eyes when she hooked herself to that damn machine. He recalled her labored breaths and pained whimpers which were the only sounds that filled her penthouse for minutes that passed like hours, and all he could do was watch the concern in Magni’s eyes as he sat beside her, unable to do anything. [color=796e9c]"If you wanna be pissy at someone for causing problems with their [i]mutant[/i] privilege, then fine. But you direct that shit at me."[/color]

Bellamy watched it all unfold like someone trapped beneath ice, able to see every fracture spidering outward while the sound of it came to her muffled and wrong, the room narrowing around her until it felt less like a conference room and more like a vice slowly tightening. It was irrational, but every sharp word felt like it traced back to her, to the fact that she had needed saving at all, to Tobias breaking rules for her, to Imogen risking herself for her, to this whole ugly, splintering moment that seemed to bloom outward from the space she occupied. If she had not been there, if she had not survived, if she had not become a problem people had to solve, maybe none of this would be happening. The thought came cruel and fast, crueler still because some part of her believed it. Her ears rang so loudly it was almost a physical thing, drowning out the edges of voices, while her eyes burned hot enough that blinking did nothing to ease them, and her shoulders had begun to shake before she even fully realized it, small, involuntary tremors she could not seem to stop. Then, almost without thought, Bellamy reached up and caught Tobias’s hand in hers, a quiet, desperate little act, fingers cold and trembling where they wrapped around him, because she needed the proof of him there more than she needed breath in that moment. 

His warmth grounded her instantly, startling in its solidity, and she clung to it as if it were the only fixed point in a room threatening to collapse inward, feeling in the tension of his hand and the fierce, restrained shape of him beside her the clearest thing she had learned since meeting him. That this, too, was how Tobias protected people, not only with necessary violence, but with stepping into the line of fire without hesitation, with taking ugliness onto himself if it meant someone else did not have to bear it alone.

June turned toward Jim with maddening slowness, the motion smooth and measured enough to feel deliberate in its restraint. For a moment, her expression gave him almost nothing at all, no visible flare of temper, no sharp recoil, just that eerily flat stillness that somehow felt worse, as though every harsher instinct in her had been caught behind her teeth and held there by force. But the anger was there all the same, bright and disciplined beneath the surface, because he had chosen this moment, with Bellamy still shaking, and Tobias laying out critical information, with a sniper still unaccounted for, and too many questions left unanswered, to take a shot at his sister. Her dark eyes searched his face for a beat too long, not confused, not even surprised, but assessing, as though she now needed to decide if [i]Jim[/i] was the liability. 

[color=375a87]"If you’d like to workshop policy, Jim, I’m sure Phil will be delighted to do so [i]after[/i] the meeting,"[/color] she said, her voice low and level and cool, so calm it nearly passed for gentle if not for the steel threaded through every syllable. One of her blunt nails tapped against the table once, a small, precise sound in the quiet before her gaze flicked briefly toward Imogen, then Tobias, then Bellamy, as if reminding the room, and Jim, what [i]actually[/i] mattered. [color=375a87]"Right now, we have a surviving witness, a hostile force that anticipated Tobias specifically, and a sniper still at large. I’d prefer if we didn’t waste anyone’s time with your insistence at a public family theater act."[/color] 

Her head tipped slightly then, just enough to sharpen the next words without ever raising her voice, the sort of composure that made the reprimand land harder because it didn’t need volume. Her nail tapped the table harder this time. [color=375a87]"For the record, if the implication was that anyone in this room is afforded special treatment because of what they can do on a genetic level, I don’t believe [i]anything[/i] Imogen said suggested that. So, unless your intention was to insult literally [i]everyone[/i] at this table, I fail to see the relevance."[/color] 

June turned away from Jim, the set of her shoulders stayed immaculate, but there was something colder in the line of her spine now, something that made it clear the leash on her temper was still being held in a white knuckled grip. Insults in meetings like this were a petty distraction, there were better ways for someone of Jim’s intelligence to voice his discomfort and anger at the circumstances of Bellamy’s arrival, and frankly it was insulting that someone she [i]knew[/i] was so smart would result to insults during a professional meeting. She looked back to Tobias, as if the interruption had already been filed, categorized, and discarded for the time being, her focus narrowing cleanly back into the shape of the problem in front of them. 

Magni had placed a hand on Imogen's knee, squeezing with such a delicate touch that managed to hide just how strong he was. His own anger had flared in his mind at Jim's outburst, his mind cycling to Imogen's own admissions and insecurities she had shared in the short time they knew each other. Tobias' response was a fitting defense, tempered in a way the god could not be in that moment. When Magni's eyes locked onto his target, the exhausted sack of a man, his anger was marginally tempered. Maturity won out.

The god rose to his feet slowly, doing his best to let the meeting continue as his steps brought him to the other end of the table. He leaned down, a hand grabbing onto Jim's shoulder with the firmness of a brick wall. His tone was surprisingly even. [color=00aeef]"We will share words."[/color] Without leaving room for argument, Magni pulled the man into the air. The chair rolled listlessly away while Jim struggled for a moment on instinct. When his feet managed to find solid footing on the ground, Magni let go. Jim's wide eyes were directed at his manhandler for but a moment, before his eyes trailed down the god's arms. The calculations were done rather quickly, all coming to the same conclusion: they were leaving, and there was only one way it would happen with a shred of dignity intact. Jim swiftly shuffled his way around the end of the table and towards the door, doing his best to avoid Imogen and Tobias while his gaze remained fixed towards the floor. Magni, all the while, followed like a jailor leading a man back to his cell. When the two left, Magni made sure to close the door slowly behind them with a quick nod offered to his partner and his old friend.

Imogen had been absently running her right hand along her white pants in a self-soothing manner, pressing the wrinkles in the fabric flat against her legs as if it was the one thing in the room she had control over. The muscles in her throat ached from the restraint of holding back frustrated tears she didn’t want to let escape in front of everyone. Magni’s words cut through the room, even and tempered, but with a strength he didn’t need to flaunt. It nearly drew her attention, but she kept her gaze forward, only to avoid seeing her brother seated somewhere beyond him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the wall behind Bellamy and Tobias until Jim shuffled past and cut across her field of view with Magni looming behind him like a golden warden. Something in her chest tightened at the sight, not anger or frustration, but a warmth that swelled so violently beneath her ribs that it stole her breath. She felt the anger coursing through his thoughts, heard the gentle threats laced with wisdom that he was preparing to share, and in that moment she realized with a shocking clarity that no one had ever stood up in her defense like that before. Imogen was always quick to protect those she cared about, like she had that morning, but now with the roles reversed she found herself at a loss for words, staring at the door he vanished behind with a deep feeling she was almost frightened to define.

Bellamy’s story had settled over the room like smoke, and somewhere in the middle of it Zaria found herself inching closer to James without consciously deciding to do so, as if his presence alone could soften the ache that kept blooming in her chest. The grief in the room was raw enough to feel against her skin, and then Jim spoke—sharp and ugly and so startlingly cruel that for one stunned second her mind seemed to blank around the sheer audacity of it. After that, everything happened at once. Chairs scraped, bodies shifted, the air itself seemed to tighten coldly, and her hand moved on instinct beneath the table until her fingers closed around James’s, seeking anchor before she’d even realized she was reaching. 

The temperature in the room seemed to drop by degrees as outrage unfurled in near perfect unison; Imogen like frost and fury, Tobias with the lethal calm of someone far more dangerous than shouting ever suggested, June slicing him apart with surgical precision, and then Magni rose like he’d decided Jim needed the physical embodiment of consequence. Zaria barely had time to process the sight of the smaller man being lifted from his chair like a cat being lifted by the scruff of its neck before he was being marched toward the door under divine muscle escort, the entire room still humming with the aftershock of it. When she turned toward James, she found him looking back at her in the exact same instant, both of them wide eyed and blinking as if silently asking whether that had really just happened. Surely there was no way for this meeting to spiral further.

James’s gaze fell beneath the table when he felt Aria’s fingers curl around his hand like he was the one thing within the room that wasn’t set to implode. While he understood, somewhere deep inside, that it was a reflex—she was startled from the cold and the shift of furniture scraping across the room—that realization was lost beneath a sea of other thoughts… Thoughts that focused on the softness of her skin contrasting the rough callouses of his palms and the remnants of grease that clung to the edges of his nails that no amount of soap could remove. He sort of just stared at it for a moment in temporary disbelief and confusion before his fingers slowly, tentatively curled around hers because that was what she wanted… [i]Right?[/i] When his gaze finally lifted from the touch that seemed to erase all other thoughts, his expression was a mirror of Aria’s confusion but for entirely different reasons.

The moment his fingers curled back around hers, something inside Zaria seemed to stutter. Her heart gave a strange, breathless flutter against her ribs, and heat rushed up the column of her throat to bloom hot across her cheeks. For one suspended second she was acutely aware of everything, the roughness of his palm against hers, the impossible steadiness of his hand closing around hers like it belonged there. She didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Instead, beneath the table and hidden from everyone else, her fingers tightened around his in a small, instinctive squeeze, silent, trembling at the edges, and full of something she wasn’t sure how to name.

June’s jaw flexed, but she didn’t look at Magni as he escorted Jim out. She trusted Magni not to hurt him too badly, at this point she was beginning to trust Magni’s judgment more than Jim’s. [color=375a87]"Twelve is a lot for someone inexperienced, no offense Bellamy. Myla, Theo, would you say there were about twelve?"[/color] She turned toward the pair, lips pursed as her mind, distracted by Jim, forced itself back on track with a fierceness that could be startling. [color=375a87]"There was only one for me, but he was a mutant, he was manipulating my emotions. They’ve now failed three times in quick succession, though, which means if I were them…"[/color] Her voice trailed off for a moment, and the blunt edges of her nails began to tap against the table in a quick, thoughtful rhythm as her mind slid several moves ahead. 

Myla inhaled sharply, shifting awkwardly in her seat. The last thing she wanted in this ticking time bomb of a conference room was to have the attention on her, not after the shit she dealt with when she arrived and especially not after all that. She swallowed, taking a measured breath before turning more directly toward June. [color=962929]"It’s hard to recall an exact number, but I believe we each handled at least four."[/color] Her head turned a fraction more toward Theo in the silent way that asked for him to correct her if she was wrong. [color=962929]"No snipers or mutants that I’m aware of."[/color]

Theo’s thumb swept over the back of Myla’s knuckles, a subconscious effort to soothe her as he tried to recall exactly how many he’d taken down. It was embarrassingly blurry, he’d been so angry, so scared that he wouldn’t make it in time, that she’d die before he could get to her… he swallowed hard, and tried to focus, squeezing her hand gently, like she was something precious that he was still learning how to treasure.  [color=feffb5]"There were eight inside, but at least four more outside. They had lookouts, people watching the building and the block. I don’t think they cared if anyone innocent got wrapped up in their clusterfuck, but they didn’t want any interruptions."[/color] He offered a half shrug, eyes flicking around the room uneasily as he took in how tense everyone was. Talk about uncomfortable. [color=feffb5]"I went in through the window,"[/color] he added helpfully, hoping to diffuse the tension. [color=feffb5]"They didn’t see me coming, a common issue with spiders, I've heard."[/color]

June hummed to herself as she took in that information. If Imogen was watching closely, it was almost unnerving to see. June’s focus narrowed not on any one person in the room, but on the invisible board assembling itself behind her eyes. Every piece shifted in relation to the others, what they already knew, who on their team altered the equation, what variables remained unseen, what patterns echoed the other disappearances she had dissected over and over, until they were practically seared into her brain. She wasn’t viewing the team as pawn pieces to be moved, not in the same sense as Jim. It was more like it was the only way she could devise a solid tactic, laying it all out in a more visual manner so she could anticipate the next move coming, and how to counteract it. She could almost feel the shape of the enemy’s next move forming in the negative space between what had gone wrong and what had gone right. 

[color=375a87]"I’d change my methods,"[/color] she said at last, the words precise and clipped as she followed the logic to its inevitable conclusion. [color=375a87]"Imogen is right, they [i]are[/i] sloppy when it comes to unseen variables, and by now they’re coming to that same conclusion. So, they’ll adjust. More hard hitters on the teams, greater control of the field, if they failed to contain more than one target because they underestimated the variables, they won’t make the same mistake anymore."[/color]

Her tone was grim, and when she flicked her gaze toward Phil, he gave a single nod that told her he had reached the same conclusion. [color=375a87]"They’ll start carrying multiple ways to subdue targets, they’ll start to try and draw us out intentionally."[/color] She grimaced faintly then, blinking once as if resurfacing from somewhere deeper. Her gaze swept across the room again, lingering on Alfred as her stomach twisted. [color=375a87]"That’s what I would do, if we’re unlucky that’s exactly what they’ll start doing."[/color] she said quietly, the weight of it settling into the room before her mouth curved into something humorless. [color=375a87]"And to be frank, none of us are particularly known for our good luck right now."[/color]

Myla took the now warm ice pack from her lap and discarded it onto the table in front of her with a soft thud. She slipped her free hand between her crossed legs with a soft sigh as she ran her attack back through her mind with a clarity she wished to forget. Her thoughts turned into a web as threads connected one attack to another, highlighting similarities in approach and tactics like she was attempting to reverse engineer a battle strategy. [color=962929]"They’re patient."[/color] The words slipped out quietly, more of an observation that escaped than a fully formed thought. She inhaled softly before raising her head slightly to face the rest of the room. [color=962929]"I have no idea how long they were staking out my uncle’s apartment, but I hadn’t been there more than five minutes when they arrived."[/color] 

Her thumb lightly tapped against the side of Theo’s thumb as she took a second to organize her thoughts before continuing. [color=962929]"Tobias mentioned yesterday that they waited until he was asleep and used power dampening collars."[/color] Myla shrugged slightly. [color=962929]"I mean, think about it. Attacking an omega level mutant openly… with someone equally as powerful? That’s suicide."[/color] Her head slowly turned toward the front of the room where Bellamy sat with her fingers clinging to Tobias’s like he was her only lifeline in a storm of chaotic powers and bigger egos. She blinked once, choosing her wording carefully before continuing. [color=962929]"I agree with Bellamy’s assumption. I think the target was her father. If I had to guess she arrived when pieces were already set in motion. They had to improvise and… she was a liability."[/color]

Imogen swept her hand along the edge of the table as she slowly turned back around to face the room without the concern of being faced with more insults from her brother or seeing his judgemental expression out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze slowly drifted across the various faces before setting on Phil. [color=a8f9ff]"Phil was right."[/color] The moment the words left her lips the man looked back at her with raised brows and an expression that said he was considering marking the occasion in his calendar, but he didn't interrupt. [color=a8f9ff]"[i]If[/i] any of us needs to leave this tower, we can [i]not[/i] go alone."[/color] Her head then slowly turned back toward the front of the room. [color=a8f9ff]"Even you, Tobias. They may not want you [i]now[/i], but how many more times can you ruin their plans before they stop caring about their directive and get vengeful?"[/color]

[color=a8f9ff]"But… that’s not all,"[/color] Imogen continued with a soft sigh. [color=a8f9ff]"I don’t know if we can risk leaving with just anyone."[/color] The words came out slow and measured, like they pained her to admit them and she was trying to have a bit more tact and sympathy than her brother. [color=a8f9ff]"Some of us are inexperienced."[/color] She motioned to herself and then to Bellamy with a small, fragile smile of understanding. [color=a8f9ff]"While others are incredibly talented… but [i]human.[/i]"[/color] Her gaze then shifted to Myla before settling on June. She hated having to lay everything out so plainly, but they were also facts that none of them could ignore, herself included. [color=a8f9ff]"I hate to admit it, but none of us should leave without someone [i]incredibly[/i] powerful to join us… People like Magni, Tobias, or James."[/color]

When his name was called, James’s eyes lifted from where they had been staring at a small tear in his jeans, trying his best to remain as invisible as possible during all the huffing and infighting. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he ran his free hand along his thigh. [color=cb6b06]"I… Yeah, I guess that would make sense."[/color] His gaze flicked to Aria for a fraction of a second before finding its way back to Imogen. [color=cb6b06]"I might not be the best company, but as long as you all don’t mind backpacking…"[/color] He shrugged his shoulders, agreeing with a nonverbal ease that felt strange in a room whose lifeblood was tension and underhanded insults.

June let out a hard breath through her nose, the sound quiet but sharp enough to cut through the tail end of James’s agreement. For a fleeting second her eyes stayed on Imogen, and there was no anger in them, not exactly, only that peculiar stillness that came when something had struck deeper than she intended to let anyone see. Then she gave a small shrug, loose and almost careless in shape, the kind of gesture meant to pass for indifference if no one looked too closely. 

It was the logical solution, the safest one, she knew that. But logic did very little for the ugly, involuntary twist low in her stomach, for the ache that bloomed mean and private beneath her ribs at hearing herself sorted so neatly into the category of [i]talented, but human[/i]—as though all the years of bruised knuckles, sleepless nights, sharpened instincts, and relentless effort could never amount to anything more than almost good enough. It didn’t matter how much stronger she became, how much she learned to bleed and keep moving, not when there would always be people in the room who could level walls with their bare hands and call it restraint. Her father had not been one of them, neither had Thomas. And for one terrible, irrational moment, that old grief twisted itself into something quieter and crueler; [i]and neither am I.[/i]

She could not make herself look at Imogen again, because she [i]was[/i] right, and in some ways she’d always be a bigger liability than anyone else on the team, than even Jim and his iron suits. Instead, her gaze drifted to the window, to the glossy reflection of the room cast faintly over the pool, and her jaw set hard enough that the line of it turned sharp. Anyone who knew her well enough might have recognized the look, like she was either trying not to cry or trying very hard not to let herself feel anything at all. When she spoke, her voice was light by design, but the strain in it was impossible to fully disguise, tension pulled thin beneath polished ease. [color=375a87]"Alright then,"[/color] she said, almost breezy if one ignored the way her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the table. [color=375a87]"Which one of you wants to come with me to the funeral, then? Because I’m going regardless of what anyone says."[/color] The words landed into the room with a weight heavier than their casual phrasing allowed, and the silence that followed might have held, might have stretched into something solemn or careful, if not for the sharp, ill timed sound of Luke’s laugh breaking through it like a match tossed into dry tinder.

Imogen’s eyes slowly closed with a measured breath in place of words when she heard the way her own words landed heavier like an anchor dropped too soon, dragging across the seabed leaving behind a scar. It felt like since the moment she stepped off that plane the entire world had shifted off its axis a few degrees. She was no longer the peace she sought to be, but the nail that picked at a sore until it was raw… unhelpful. Imogen had grown into the type of woman who didn’t look for her place in a room, but demanded it, and since leaving Krakoa she felt herself shrinking away with every misstep. There was a part of her, dark and peeking out from the recesses of her mind, that wondered if maybe Jim and Luke were right. 

Before her thoughts could linger in that dangerous territory, she swallowed and forced her eyes open. Her hand slid along the surface of the table attempting to bridge the space of empty chairs between her and June like an apology or an olive branch or… She didn’t know. [color=a8f9ff]"June, I—"[/color] she began, her voice more gentle and quiet than the strong presence she often exuded. But whatever words that were planned to follow were cut off by a chuckle that tore through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

For one brief, fragile moment, June softened. The rigid line of her shoulders eased, and her eyes flicked to Imogen’s hand as it slid across the table toward her, something tender and wounded moving beneath the surface of her carefully held composure. She almost lifted her own hand in return, instinctively, as if to meet her halfway and spare them both the distance that had opened between them. But then Luke laughed. The sound split through the room like a blade dragged across glass, and June froze mid breath, whatever fragile thing had begun to mend snapping taut again. Her head turned toward him in one sharp, elegant motion, the shift so quick it felt surgical, and her mouth curled faintly, not into a smile, but into the barest flash of unvarnished irritation before the rest of her expression smoothed back into something cool and lethal. Luke, of course, looked entirely too comfortable, slouched back in his chair as though the tension in the room was his own private entertainment, one arm draped lazily while that infuriating half smile tugged at his mouth like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to be unbearable. [color=375a87]"What exactly is funny, Rogers?"[/color] June asked, her tone exquisitely controlled, each syllable smoothed into something deceptively even that somehow made the question feel sharper than if she had spat it.

Luke gave a lazy shrug, expression bright in the way that made people want to hit him on principle, the grin on his face edging just crooked enough to feel deliberate. [color=995749]"Nothing, really,"[/color] he murmured, though his mouth betrayed him by widening. His gaze slid around the table with theatrical innocence before landing back on June, and there was something almost playful in the cruelty of the next line. [color=995749]"Are we all invited, or only the people Imogen thinks are [i]strong[/i] enough?"[/color] The words dropped like a knife, and for the briefest moment June went utterly still, the kind of stillness that always meant she was one heartbeat away from saying something she may regret later.

James’s fingers curled the faintest bit tighter around Aria’s hand, brows furrowing as Captain Fuck Face felt the need to fill the tension in the room with his special breed of assholeness. His brows furrowed, gaze remaining fixed on a small knot of wood in the table but restraint… Well, it was never one of his strong suits. His left hand balled and became engulfed in hellfire beneath the table. Then in a single swift extension of his arm, his fist slammed into the side of Luke’s ribs, putting what little restraint he [i]did[/i] possess into making sure he didn’t send his hand straight through the fucker’s chest cavity. It wasn’t enough force to do any serious damage or break any bones, but there would be a bruise, undoubtedly. 

[color=cb6b06]"If you have nothing constructive to add, then do us all a favor, and shut the fuck up,"[/color] he commented dryly, not even sparing the douche a sidelong glance as he shook his hand in the air. Flame emblazoned bones vanished as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind his normal calloused and greased stained fingers.

Luke hissed sharply as the punch landed, the breath leaving him in a rough, involuntary grunt while pain flared hot along his ribs. His hand snapped to his side on instinct, fingers pressing there as his face twisted for a split second before he forced it smooth again. When he turned his head toward James, his lip curled—not just in pain, but in open disgust, blue eyes narrowing into something sharp and ugly. [color=995749]"Charming,"[/color] he drawled, voice tight and edged like a blade. [color=995749]"Careful, wouldn’t want you messing up your little meat suit trying to play white knight."[/color]

A humorless smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, mean and deliberate, as his eyes flicked to Zaria. [color=995749]"Though I suppose when your whole personality is possession and posturing, subtlety was never really on the table."[/color] His smile turned mocking, but so deliberately sweet it was practically dripping. [color=995749]"That’s fine, I’ll leave the insults to Jim, he does well enough on his own."[/color]

Meanwhile outside in the hallway…


[color=00aeef]"You will cease with your vicious barbs."[/color]

Magni stood uncomfortably close to Jim, who had backed himself against a wall down the hallway from the all-tower meeting. While his voice was at a reasonable volume, his tone was resolute. All pretense of the jovial and carefree spirit had disappeared, replaced with the sober demands of the warrior prince. [color=00aeef]"I will not tolerate thy undermining of thy sister's character any further, nor the reputation of my friends."[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"If a few words are enough to tear apart the egos of this team, we've already lost."[/color] Jim was defiant as ever, even when staring a god in the face. The rapid inhales and refusal to make eye contact betrayed the inner turmoil of his mind, even to a visitor from a foreign realm. He had always been tough to discipline, and he hated authority. He fought against any situation that made him feel small, and his small frame was dwarfed by the titanic mass of his sister's new boy toy. It was only natural he would lash out.

Magni shook his head, letting out a tired sigh. [color=00aeef]"You are the one appearing weak by thy own actions."[/color] He let the statement linger for a moment, his arms folded across his chest as he let loose a powerful exhale through his nostrils. [color=00aeef]"Tobias hath proven himself to many in that room time and time again. He risked his life to save a woman in need of aid. Thy sister strained herself to her limits last night using some infernal contraption to aid him. What has thou done but whine and mock and tease the warriors thou hast called to wage war?"[/color]

Jim scoffed, shaking his own head with a smug smirk that hid the momentary flash of surprise in Magni's description. She had never told him about how taxing the device was. If he had known, he could have helped… fix it? Improve it? She knew the device better than he did, it was unlikely he'd know how to even adjust the parameters effectively. And yet… the accusation he was doing [i]nothing[/i] was a grave insult all its own. [color=ed1c24]"You're right, I'm not doing anything but drink beer and punch robots and have loud public sex,"[/color] he muttered sarcastically, his eyes lit by a defiant spark. [color=ed1c24]"You're the one making all the plans, right? Studying the data we have, having satellites scan the entire fucking planet for any sign of our missing families. You're the one designing new weapons and suits for everyone too, right? You're fixing the tower, making sure everyone can waste all their days making goo-goo eyes at each other like this is spring break and not the end of the world, right?"[/color]

Magni nodded his head, letting Jim vent out his frustrations. When the rant was finished, he let out a bemused hum as a nostalgic smile graced his lips. [color=00aeef]"My father spoke highly of yours, Stark."[/color]

A dull silence filled the air between them for a moment. Jim's brows furrowed in confusion, his speeding thoughts crashing to a halt by the sudden shift in direction. [color=ed1c24]"What?"[/color]

Magni continued to smile as he lifted a hand to brush the stubble on his cheek. [color=00aeef]"My father said that thy father was a brilliant man, a master craftsman and a brave warrior that could rival near any in Asgard,"[/color] he recalled fondly, shaking his head. [color=00aeef]"Though… he had a great flaw. One that thou hast inherited."[/color]

Jim clicked his tongue in frustration, already bored of the godling's lecture. [color=ed1c24]"Yeah? And what was that, using too many big words?"[/color]

Magni lifted a finger, pressing it against Jim's chest. [color=00aeef]"He thought wars were won by singular tacticians alone."[/color] Jim struggled under the immense weight of the single point of contact. As the fingertip pressed against his sternum, he could feel the pressure preventing his lungs from expanding on a full inhale. He could not bend, turn, or do much more than stare in dawning horror at the man's strength. He was, reluctantly, forced to acknowledge Magni's words, even as the god continued. [color=00aeef]"How many wars hast thou won? How many battles hath thou suffered?"[/color] With each question, Magni pressed the finger a little harder for emphasis. His face remained firm, his eyes studying Jim's panic with sadness.

It was hard to breathe, and harder to choke out a response. [color=ed1c24]"They'll target her."[/color] Magni removed his finger from Jim's chest. The genius doubled over in pain and frustration, letting out a shuddered gasp as he sunk to the floor. After a few shallow breaths, the words flowed. [color=ed1c24]"They'll use mutants as bait. They'll lure her out. They'll take her too. I can't… I shouldn't have… I can't lose her."[/color]

Magni loomed over Jim, taking in his blabbering confession as he mulled over the words. His words softened. [color=00aeef]"Thou shall lose her,"[/color] he declared calmly, lowering himself down to a knee and placing a hand on Jim's shoulder. [color=00aeef]"Thou wilt lose everything… nay, we shall lose everything if thou cannot stop waging thy war against thy only allies."[/color]

Jim's head dipped between his knees, nodding slowly as he took in the god's words. He didn't have a response, a barb, or a sarcastic comment to offer. He didn't have the strength to fight further.

[color=00aeef]"I swear to keep Imogen safe from all adversaries who would dare harm her,"[/color] Magni promised, his tone growing serious once again. He pushed Jim's shoulder back, forcing the man's head to rock back enough to look him in the eyes. [color=00aeef]"I do not wish, for her sake, that thou wilt be one of them."[/color] The threat was clear, concise, and sincere. He prayed that Jim was smart enough to heed it. Once he was certain the message was clear, Magni rose to his feet and slowly walked back towards the conference room.

[color=00aeef]"Thou wilt apologize to Imogen when thou art ready to atone. And I would advise that thou not trouble any of our comrades further,"[/color] he called over his shoulder, before entering back into the meeting once again.

Jim remained frozen for a moment, his head pressed back against the wall as he let out a deep sigh. He didn't want to go back. He'd rather just return to his lab and work on his projects. And yet, he slowly rose to his feet and shuffled his way back to the conference room, slipping inside quietly while avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Imogen’s face had gone pale from Luke’s words as the sharpness settled just between her ribs. A million rebuttals ran across her mind: barbs, insults, defenses… But they all slipped away as quickly as they appeared. Her gaze fell to the table splayed beneath her extended arm as she slowly withdrew, dragging her palm along the cool surface. For a brief moment she considered standing up and simply walking out, getting lost somewhere in the tower no one would find her or perhaps sitting at the dock until the sunset came and went. But then the door opened and in walked Magni with Jim following slowly behind. Her gaze followed them both as they crossed the room. Just as a sliver of their thoughts started creeping into her mind, and she flipped the switch, severing the connection before she heard any other truths she could not handle while trapped in that room. Her arms crossed over her chest as she sank silently back into her seat, gaze unfocused and lost somewhere among the grain pattern of the table.

Magni settled into his chair beside Imogen, his hand naturally sliding in place just above the knee. He gave a reassuring squeeze, his thoughts trying to make clear that the matter was settled. He glanced in Tobias’ direction, giving him a small nod to signal he had taken care of the issue with Jim. The mood somehow seemed to have twisted slightly more volatile in a way he hadn't expected. Jim, for his part, seemed oblivious as he awkwardly shuffled around towards his chair, unable to look June in the eyes as he carefully sat down. He took a deep breath, his eyes glancing towards the glasses he left on the table. His eyes narrowed at a small flashing light in the lenses, an alert he had set up following his morning briefing with the tower's systems. Jim plucked the glasses, putting them on and tapping the side to watch a small security feed in the lens. He couldn't help but flash a small, incredulous smirk as he waited for the next shoe to drop.

June felt the shift in the room before she fully registered Jim taking his seat again, the quiet scrape of the chair against the floor somehow louder than it should have been. Her spine tensed almost instantly, every muscle along her shoulders and back drawing tight in a reflex she could not quite hide, and though her gaze flicked toward him for the briefest of moments, she did not speak. Whatever sat unresolved between them stayed there, sharp and humming and far too raw to risk touching in a room already full of fractures. Instead, she rose. The motion was smooth and immediate, almost too controlled, as though movement itself was easier than remaining still beside him, and she turned away before anyone could study what had tightened in her face, until he apologized to Imogen and the others for being so bluntly racist.... her attention shifted cleanly to Tobias, her posture settling back into something composed and command steady even as the tension still lived visibly in the line of her shoulders. [color=375a87]"Is there anything else useful?"[/color] she asked, voice even and precise, already dragging the conversation back toward the shape of the problem rather than the people threatening to splinter beneath it. [color=375a87]"Anything we should be changing immediately to keep the tower more secure for now?"[/color]

Tobias had remained silent for the most part, observing rather than partaking. When June looked back at him he sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to stand up straighter as eyes quickly followed. While he may have had two run-ins with these people, he didn’t claim to be an expert by any means. He tried to think of anything else, but only managed to shake his head. [color=796e9c]"I… No, I don’t think so. Nothing we haven’t already done."[/color]

June held his gaze for a beat longer, studying the careful honesty in his answer even as her mind was already moving far beyond it, spiraling outward into new, unwelcome possibilities. If the people hunting Bellamy had anticipated Tobias, then the tower itself could become compromised next. Watched and probed for weaknesses they had not yet accounted for. The thought rearranged her mental list at once, priorities shifting and slotting into new order with ruthless efficiency. Better external surveillance, access points, contingencies, evacuation routes, internal response times, backup systems. She went still for only a second, but in that brief pause her expression tightened, the strain of it flickering plainly across her face, an exhaustion so deep it felt as though it had settled into the marrow of her bones. 

Then, just as quickly, she tucked it away, smoothing herself back into something composed and sharp edged. [color=375a87]"Alright,"[/color] she said quietly, her voice carrying cleanly through the room as she folded her arms loosely across her chest. Her eyes swept across the table, dark and calculating, every inch of her already three steps ahead. [color=375a87]"No one leaves alone. No one leaves without telling someone where they’re going. And if anyone notices anything unusual, anything at all, you tell me, or Phil, Alfred, Imogen, or Jim immediately… please."[/color]

Outside the meeting room, Jules came to an abrupt stop a few paces from the door. She readjusted her suit, wincing as she could feel the swirl of possible outcomes slosh in her skull. There was a high chance they reacted negatively, but she had her story clear. She was called in regarding an anomaly by the IHA, and it turned out to be a 20-something Asgardian who promised she was here to help. It was stupid, so incredibly stupid that it was a truth they couldn't reasonably deny. So, Jules turned to face Rune with a tight-lipped smile before speaking softly. [color=cdb6d6]"Just follow behind me… and introduce yourself to everyone."[/color] It was a simple order, one she trusted the god to be able to manage. Without further pomp, Jules spun around and made for the door to the meeting room. She gripped the handle, took a breath, and opened it.

June had just drawn in a breath to speak after a beat, waiting to see if anyone had anything else to add, but when they didn’t, she carried onwards diligently. [color=375a87]"Before we adjourn, I’m working on bracelets for everyone in the event someone is taken, with Jim’s assistance,"[/color] she began, voice crisp and composed as her fingers brushed lightly against the table’s edge. [color=375a87]"Each one will have built-in assistance tailored to the wearer, metal Tobias can manipulate, extra web cartridges for Theo, things of that nature. If anyone has specific requests, tell me now or send them to J.A.R.V.I.S. I can have prototypes ready within three days—"[/color]

The door opened rather swiftly, with Jules letting out a beleaguered sigh and flashing an apologetic grimace as she saw everyone was already gathered and seated around the table. Her eyes naturally gravitated towards June at the opposite end, smartly dressed and standing as if she owned the space. In hindsight, she did really co-own pretty much the entire building. Jules let everyone's gaze draw in her direction before she spoke through heavy breaths. [color=cdb6d6]"Sorry I'm late, I was called in for an emergency and well…"[/color] Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted towards Bellamy. There was a faint look of confusion on her face, as if questioning how or why there was a new face. Maybe she was the reason for the meeting. It was convenient timing. Jules offered the stranger a polite nod. [color=cdb6d6]"It looks like I'm not the only one introducing a new face,"[/color] Jules jested half-heartedly, turning her head back towards the hallway. [color=cdb6d6]"Rune… why don't you introduce yourself."[/color]

Rune stepped into the room as though she had been invited into sunlight. For a fleeting instant, she lingered just beyond the threshold, framed by the open doorway and the bright hall behind her, all teal wool and impossible plaid and gleaming white knit layered beneath the sort of coat that seemed to have lost a fight with a paint box. The dreadful heels she had earlier abandoned now dangled from two fingers in one hand, swaying lightly beside the little soot sprite purse tucked against her hip. There was nothing self conscious in her posture, nothing wary or defensive. She entered with all the buoyant, wholehearted enthusiasm of a creature who had never once learned to brace for rejection, and the effect of it was almost blinding.

June’s words stopped dead. Her head turned, prepared for annoyance at best, only for Jules to step in—and then the stranger behind her came fully into view. For one catastrophic, silent beat, June simply stared. Her face visibly blanched, every thought in her head short circuiting at once as her dark eyes swept over the aggressively teal coat, the rainbow cap, the lemon earrings, the soot sprite purse, the white stilettos, the pink bag, the tinted glasses… an entire war crime of styling choices layered together with the confidence of someone who had never once been told [i]no[/i]. She was so profoundly, spiritually horrified by the fashion cartography before her that for perhaps the first time in recorded history, Juniper Wayne was momentarily too stunned to speak.


Rune smiled a bright, open thing that transformed her whole face at once, warm as sunrise over fresh frost, eager and guileless and entirely unaware that her mere existence, let alone her outfit, had detonated in the center of the room like a glitter bomb hurled by fate itself. She lifted her free hand in a jaunty little wave, fingers fluttering with cheerful confidence, and if there was tension thick as wire strung between the gathered heroes, Rune either did not notice it or mistook it for anticipation.

[color=544aba]“Good morning,”[/color] she said, and her voice carried strange music in it, formal and clear, touched by an accent that was not quite British and not quite anything earthly at all, the cadence elegant and old fashioned, softened by something distant and unmistakably Asgardian. It rolled through the room like a bell struck in an unfamiliar temple. [color=544aba]“I am Rune Helasdottir.”[/color]

She gave a small, almost ceremonial incline of her head, though the motion was undermined slightly by the fact that she was visibly bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to keep still for more than a breath beneath the sheer force of her own excitement. [color=544aba]“Daughter of Hela, sovereign of Hel,”[/color] she continued brightly, as though this were not an introduction likely to alarm at least half the room. [color=544aba]“My mother sent me in answer to your call for aid, and I have come to offer what assistance I may.”[/color] Her smile widened, dazzling and earnest and just a touch breathless. [color=544aba]“I am exceedingly pleased to be here.”[/color]

And then, because silence clearly had no place in her joy, the words simply kept coming.

[color=544aba]“Truly, I am. I have never before belonged to a team, you see, and I have always wished to know what such a thing might feel like. There were chariot races, of course, that the spirits sometimes arranged, which did involve multiple participants and occasional shouting, but I am not wholly certain those qualify as proper teamwork, as several of the contestants did attempt to sabotage one another, and all of them were quite dead long before the race began, which rather complicated the judging.”[/color] There was not the faintest trace of irony in her expression. She said it all with the bright sincerity of someone recounting a fond childhood memory.

[color=544aba]“In any case, I am hopeful that this shall be different.”[/color] She clasped both hands briefly in front of herself, the heels swinging absurdly from her fingers like some strange ceremonial offering. [color=544aba]“Also, I should confess that I very much dislike hiking. I had to do quite a lot of it to reach this place, before I met with Jules who very kindly offered me assistance with the big metal contraption she operated, and I found it considerably less romantic than stories suggest. So, if there is not to be much of that in future, I should count it a tremendous blessing.”[/color]

Her shoulders lifted in a tiny, graceful shrug, almost sheepish now, though the excitement still radiated from her in waves. She looked around the table with unabashed interest, green eyes bright and curious as they moved from face to face, taking each of them in as though they were marvels rather than strangers. There was compassion there, too, threaded through the wonder, something gentle beneath all that glittering enthusiasm. Something observant, even if it wore delight like a banner. [color=544aba]“But I am very happy to meet all of you,”[/color] she finished, and for the first time her voice softened, sincerity settling into it like gold leaf into lacquer. [color=544aba]“It is an honor to stand in the company of those who answered such a call. I do hope you will have me.”[/color]

Then she beamed again, luminous and wholly sincere, still swaying lightly in place with all the misplaced, irrepressible energy of a golden retriever who had bounded into a war council believing, with her entire heart, that she had just arrived at a birthday party.

The second Rune had stepped into the room, Magni's eyes narrowed. It was hard to place what exactly had tipped him off that she wasn't Midgardian. Having grown up in Asgard and spending much of his adult years in the realms, it just became an instinct. This woman reeked of something he did not well know, for Hel had been forbidden for him to tread. When she spoke, he recognized the accent as Asgardian adjacent. Her words and dialect were far more mortal though. It wasn't until she spoke her name that the reality solidified in his mind.

At that point, Magni's thoughts spiraled with the sound and force of an angry mob. Hela was one of the few beings in all the realms who would have the strength and cunning to deal with the mighty Thor. She had always sought a greater station, and to seek revenge on the family that had all but banished her to the lowest rungs of Yggdrasil. He had a hard time believing that any mortal could have subdued his father, and the sight of the offspring over such a villainous god made clear that there may have been divine influence in the disappearances. The foes they shared were more formidable than he could have possibly imagined.

Every word Rune uttered further damned her complicity in the grand machinations he had sworn to dismantle. To be sent by Hela, with such saccharine words and a jester-like appearance… it was all a ruse or trap. She was sent to kill them, or spy on them, or harvest their souls for some grand design. This Rune was a villain, an enemy, to his friends and his entire realm. She was his foe, and he had dealt with far mightier ones than her. He needed to move quickly, decisively, and with purpose. He needed to shatter her jaw and rip off her hands before she could manage a spell. He needed to kill her before she could kill him.

Magni's hand shifted from Imogen's thigh, his other hand resting on the table as his muscles began to tense. He waited for Rune to finish speaking before he made his move. He was swift, and the slight movement he managed was devastating. The chair beneath him shot backwards and impaled itself into the wall. His feet scooped small craters in the linoleum and concrete beneath his feet. His hand had shattered a section of the wooden table before him, sending splinters flying. He was ready to fly across the room in a moment and handle this, but he never made it past his spot at the table.

Imogen had resided to be a fixture in the room for the remainder of the meeting, silent and unmoving with her hand resting on top of Magni’s and her gaze staring unfocused at the surface of the table. That was until the door opened, snapping her out of the hollow void of her thoughts and dragging her attention toward Jules and a second, unfamiliar face. If there wasn’t a deafening silence that spoke of a million things happening at once, she might have spent a beat longer dissecting the fashion war crime assaulting her eyes, but she simply catalogued it away as someone having similar inclinations to a toddler being given the opportunity to dress themselves for the first time. 

Whatever walls Imogen had put up to sever her telepathic connection with everyone quickly vanished. Thoughts, images, and feelings flooded into her like a tidal wave, but quickly broke apart as they crashed into her own mental dam, cutting through the cacophony to hone in on the stranger with a striking focus. Welcome or not, she sifted through recent memories and thoughts trying to find deception, truth, or any sort of clarity that was not openly given. The moment the girl’s name and parentage left her lips, Imogen’s gaze darted sideways, locking on Magni as her fingers curled around his hand. She remained unchanged and stoic, her mind bouncing back and forth between Rune and her lover as she tried to find the truth in the words of a stranger while monitoring Magni’s quickly rising anger. 

The moment he moved and the chair slammed backwards into the wall, Imogen was on her feet. She didn’t hesitate to step in front of him, placing herself between the single most devastating source of power in the tower and everyone else. In a single beat pale ivory skin shifted to diamond as her hands pressed against his chest. She was strong enough to potentially hold him in place, but if Magni tried to push back against her or use even a fraction of his strength, she would have no more control over him than a toddler clinging to their parent’s legs… a hindrance and an annoyance, nothing more. She looked small and breakable standing before him, knowing that even in her diamond form she was no match for him.

[color=a8f9ff]"Magni… [i]Magni…[/i]"[/color] Her voice was quiet and gentle as she tried to coax his attention down toward her like calming a feral animal. She patiently held her ground, thumb softly stroking rhythmically against his chest as she waited for him to meet her gaze. When Magni finally looked down, her prismatic eyes slowly returned back to their rich blue framed by blonde lashes. Her diamond form melted away as a show of silent trust, because she knew that out of everyone in that tower, Magni was the last person who would harm her. He didn’t frighten her, but she didn’t want him doing something rash either. She wasn’t trying to fight him or tame his rage, but help him hear logic from the one person who could strip away lies and pretense for the truth. 

Imogen shook her head slowly while holding his gaze. [color=a8f9ff]"She’s telling the truth,"[/color] she whispered quietly and while the words were for him, they carried through the silence of the room and held breaths like a dropped pin. [color=a8f9ff][i]If this girl was sent to be used as a tool for Hela, she is oblivious to it,[/i][/color] she added into Magni’s thoughts for only him to hear.

Magni's gaze was sharp, glancing up at Rune as he restrained himself from sudden action. [color=00aeef][i]My cousin would not dispatch her spawn to aid us. There is some trick here.[/i][/color] His thoughts were clear and readable to Imogen, his eyes unwavering as he observed the Princess of Hel. He took a proper look this time, noting that unwavering optimism and joy and completely odd fashion. She was not from here, certainly. At best, she was simply a tool or weapon meant to strike them later. At worst, her magic concealed her true motives and she was already making moves to destroy them all. Regardless, he didn't like this. He spoke with authority as he addressed Rune directly. [color=00aeef]"The Queen of Hel hath wrought great pain and suffering on my home many times. I hath buried my brothers and sisters in arms because of the machinations of thy realm. How do we know thou wilt not bring ruin to this tower at thy mother’s behest?"[/color]

The words struck harder than any blow could have. For one suspended heartbeat, Rune simply stared at him, the bright, eager warmth that had lit her face guttering out so quickly it felt like a candle pinched between wet fingers. Disgust flashed first, sharp and instinctive, then hurt, then something older and deeper, a wounded offense that seemed to reach all the way into the marrow of her. She did not shrink. Her chin lifted instead, green eyes turning brighter, stranger, lit from within like foxfire under glass as she fixed Magni with a stare that was no longer guileless in the slightest. 


[color=544ABA]“If thou hast had to bury brothers and sisters, it was not by my hand,”[/color] she said, and the softness in her voice had hardened into something clear enough to ring as her speech pattern took on the more formal way of speaking she had been taught first, and then taught out of by the spirits she so adored. [color=544ABA]“Nor is it the fault of Hel that death exists. My realm is no blight upon Asgard. It is its necessary counterweight. Asgard may have its glory, its feasts, its shining banners and golden halls— but none of it stands without the sacred balance of an ending. Hel keeps what must be kept. We hold what must be held. We cherish those who come to us, because they become ours to cherish. We are the hand that closes the circle when life has spent itself.”[/color] Her mouth tightened, and when she spoke the next word, she gave it all the reverence that he had not, each syllable placed with care. 

[color=544ABA]“[i]Realm.[/i]”[/color] The correction was quiet, but it landed like a slap. [color=544ABA]“Speak of it with respect. The spirits who come to me are not refuse to be tallied in thy grief. Each one is received with honor. Each one is treated with dignity. Death is not desecration simply because thou hate it.”[/color]


Her breath caught. The force of her own anger faltered beneath what rose after it, and that was worse. [color=544ABA]“Those spirits were my first companions,”[/color] she said, and now the hurt showed plainly, hot and sudden and impossible to hide. [color=544ABA]“My first friends. The first voices that spoke to me with kindness. They were the only family I knew, because [i]thy[/i] father and all [i]thy[/i] shining blood cast me out before I had done aught to deserve it, because of what I was, because of who bore me, because it was simpler to fear me than to [i]know[/i] me even when I was a mere child.”[/color] She took one involuntary step backward then, as if his accusation had struck her square in the chest after all. The movement was small, but the pain on her face was not. It flickered there naked and immediate, a bright raw thing, before it vanished beneath a stillness so complete it might as well have been a locked door.


When she looked at him again, her expression had gone cool and composed, though the wound beneath it had not vanished so much as frozen over. [color=544ABA]“I knew thou wouldst not welcome me,”[/color] she said, and her voice had grown quieter, more dangerous for the lack of volume. [color=544ABA]“My mother told me enough of that, how thy realm never wanted me, and I tried my best to make my peace with that. But I had thought, foolishly, it seems, that perhaps necessity might make room where bloodline did not.”[/color] Her fingers tightened around the absurd white heels in her hand until the knuckles paled. [color=544ABA]“If thou canst not bear my presence even now, then I shall gladly return to Hel. At least there, the dead are kinder than the living, and the spirits of my so-called betters have shown me more heart than any family Asgard ever offered.”[/color] She twisted around without another word, turning from the room and the door and [i]him,[/i] trying to pretend her eyes weren’t burning. 

She should have told her mother she didn’t want to come, she missed Hel so much already, but Rune knew that her mother would be there when she returned to comfort her, it was so clear she could almost hear her voice like the echo of a memory in her mind. [i][color=236630]"I tried to warn you, but I’m here, it’s alright my Rune."[/color][/i] She would pull her in close, wipe away her tears softly, and go back to sheltering her daughter, molding her to be a better successor of Hel, to be someone who did not need what Asgard refused to give… acceptance. [i][color=236630]"Remember, the worst punishment of all is not death, but banishment."[/color][/i] She felt foolish for being optimistic enough to want to misplace the belief of the first lesson she’d ever learned, if only to be able to have someone she could call…family.

[color=cdb6d6]"She's not a spy."[/color] Jules’ statement was simple, stepping out between two gods with profound confidence. Jules smoothed her jacket with her hands, glancing about the room as she stiffened her back. [color=cdb6d6]"I've been in the espionage game since I was a kid, and I've only made it this far because I got really good at spotting moles."[/color] Her expression shifted slightly, as if sharing something personal about herself was painful to such a large group. She was so used to telling lies that a factual, intimate statement felt like she was putting herself at risk. Jules recovered, pressing her lips together as she refocused her words. [color=cdb6d6]"The point is… I grilled her on the ride here. Rune is clean… and I think she belongs here."[/color] The last statement was an olive branch of sorts, a tiny ray of compassion in an otherwise tense room towards the bright and happy stranger she had just met.

Magni shook his head, his brow knit in both confusion and concern. The accusation was preposterous, that Asgard had thrown out one of their kind or rejected her. He had never seen Rune, never heard of her, and his father had never shared that Hela had borne a daughter. He knew of his other cousins, even his uncle's child who had proven to be a remarkable trickster in their own right. Thor had learned from his father's mistakes, even if he made his own. But above all, there was a single god who could see all and whom Magni had only recently asked about threats his father had faced. Heimdal made no mention of a daughter of Hela, even when asked if his cousin had any other co-conspirators that could have taken his father.

The pieces knit together like a tapestry, parsed from Rune's admissions. She was kept from Asgard and the other realms, told they would reject her, and then was sent without knowledge of any grand scheme. If Hela was involved in the great plot to subdue the king of Asgard, Rune was not a willing weapon in that conquest. She had no living friends, and served her station with an honor greater than he had served his when he was younger. His outburst only seemed to prove the lie she had been told. Pushing this demigod away would only serve to further Hela's machinations. He would not make Odin's mistakes again. He had to be better.

Magni took a breath, passing a sorrowful look down to Imogen. He nodded as he met her gaze, acknowledging fully what she had meant to warn him. Unlike her brother, Magni was not willing to wallow in shame and hide from his actions. He walked around the table, towards Rune and Jules. He stopped a couple paces away, letting out a sigh as he nodded for Jules to stand down. He spoke much softer this time. [color=00aeef]"Before this moment, Asgard knew not of thy existence."[/color] His gaze briefly fell to the rest of those gathered around the table, before settling back on Tobias. He should have known better, given his friend's past. [color=00aeef]"I am sorry, cousin, for my presumptions. My father is missing, taken by forces we do not yet know. The others gathered in this room are bound by the same purpose: to find our lost kin."[/color] His gaze returned to Rune, swallowing hard as he spoke earnestly. [color=00aeef]"I feared thou wast responsible… but… I fear now I may have been mistaken, just as thou art mistaken about Asgard's rejection of thee."[/color] He let those words linger for a moment, hoping that the only family he had in the room would believe him.

Rune had already begun to turn when Jules stepped between them, and that alone stopped her. The white heels in her hand hung still at her side, the little sway gone out of them, her fingers curled tight around their straps. She listened without moving, first to Jules’ plain certainty, then to Magni’s softer voice as he came nearer, and though she did not flinch this time, the sharpness remained in her face. The bright, buoyant energy she had carried into the room had not been false, only shelved, set carefully aside beneath the weight of something far older than wounded pride.

Her gaze fixed on Magni and stayed there. She searched him with an intensity that felt almost unfamiliar on her, green eyes steady and luminous, her breathing shallow in the hush that followed his apology. Rune had spent a lifetime among the dead, among spirits who lied badly when they lied at all; she knew how guilt sat in a voice, how grief bent the mouth, how truth could ache even when it offered comfort. She found no mockery in him, no hidden satisfaction, no gleam of cruelty dressed as mercy. When she swallowed, it was small but visible, the motion catching in her throat as though the air had thickened around her.

[color=544ABA]“I was told that I was banished from Asgard the day I was born,”[/color] she said at last, slowly, each word set down with care, her voice slipping back into the measured cadence she had first carried through the doorway, no longer as formal as it had been. The sentence seemed to surprise even her once it was spoken aloud, because the implication that something she’d known as fact her entire life had been a lie... a faint crease formed between her brows, her mouth pulling into a troubled line as something deep within her shifted, small at first, then enough to unsettle the ground beneath her certainty. [color=544ABA]“I… accept thy apology,”[/color] she added after a beat, formal with this, and there was honest bewilderment in it, as though the very shape of an apology from him had not fit the world she thought she knew. [color=544ABA]“And I am sorry as well. I…”[/color] The rest caught and thinned. She shook her head once, subtle and conflicted, her grip tightening on the shoes as if she needed something foolish and tangible to keep herself upright.

June stood in the wake of it all with the faint, disorienting feeling that the meeting had slipped entirely out of human hands and into the realm of some elaborate cosmic prank. Her mouth, which had apparently been hanging open for several long and undignified seconds, shut with a soft click as she stared at Rune, at Magni, at Jules, at the white heels still dangling from Rune’s hand like the punchline to a joke no one had asked for. The room felt too warm all at once, too crowded, too full of grief and ghosts and impossible revelations, and she turned her head just enough to throw Tobias a helpless look that said, quite plainly, [i]what the actual fuck is this[/i]. The bracelets would have to wait, she could already feel the bone deep exhaustion of drafting an email to this entire disaster of a team, picturing the inevitable reply all chain and wanting, briefly, to walk straight into the Hudson. 

She didn’t blame Magni for the way he’d reacted, under the circumstances, suspicion had been the sane response, but Jules arriving this late with an unknown demigod and a family revelation explosive enough to rattle the room left a fine, tight thread of irritation pulling behind June’s ribs. Her fingers pressed harder into the table’s edge, grounding herself against the spiral, and when she finally breathed in, it was slow and deliberate, the sort of breath taken by someone accepting that whatever this meeting had once been was now thoroughly, irreparably off the rails. Fuck, she needed a drink.

Tobias didn’t realize that every muscle in his body tensed until he caught a glimpse of his blanched knuckles tight on Bellamy’s shoulder and beneath her cold fingers that still clung to him like a lifeline. He was lucky that he didn’t have super strength, that his hold would only cause discomfort not physical harm. But the sight of it still made him withdraw like his touch was searing hot and could burn. His expression was sorrowful and full of regret as he looked down at his hand like another piece of him that was broken, like something else he needed to atone for. The muscle along his jaw pulsed as he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to breathe in the heightened emotions that flooded the room to the point of feeling suffocating. He cleared his throat and hesitantly placed his hand against the top of Bellamy’s chair, close enough that she could still have some semblance of comfort in the warmth of his thumb just barely brushing against her back, but not familiar enough for him to slip up like that again. 

Jim leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on the new stranger as his mind wandered over the near infinite possibilities of how this could all shake out. He didn’t put much faith in the offspring of any villains, let alone one sent by a goddess of a nordic death dimension. He didn’t care if she was a spy, a weapon, an ally, or a combination of all three: she was a new threat on the board. He glanced sideways to June, noting the small signs of her frayed stability. He sighed, running a hand up through his hair as he muttered quietly to her, [color=ed1c24]"I’ll add her to the list."[/color]

June’s head turned at the sound of Jim’s voice, the quiet murmur pulling her attention away from the chaos at the center of the room far more effectively than it should have. For a second she simply looked at him, taking in the tired line of his face, the hand dragged back through his hair, the familiar sharpness of his mind already adapting to the newest disaster dropped into their laps. The words themselves were pragmatic, almost clinical in the way only Jim could manage, another variable, another contingency, another name added to the ever growing list, but beneath them sat something gentler he likely did not even realize he was offering. He had noticed her unraveling edges. The realization softened something unwilling inside her chest, warmth threading through the tangled knot of frustration and hurt and lingering tension between them in a way that made her almost irritated with herself for responding to it at all. Still, she gave him a small, tight smile, grateful despite herself, her eyes lingering on his for only a beat before dropping away again. [color=375a87]"Thank you,"[/color] she said softly, the words so quiet they were almost mouthed rather than spoken.

When Tobias spared a single glance up toward the rest of the room, finding June looking back at him. The corner of one side of his mouth pulled tight into a lopsided… well, less like a smile and more like a grimace. His left shoulder rose and fell in a tired shrug of acceptance or maybe concession. It was easier that way. [color=796e9c]"[i]Look…[/i]"[/color] he started to add, his voice quiet and faintly strained like everything that had happened since he stepped into that room was slowly taking its toll. While Jules’s argument meant little to nothing to him, he had a difficult time trusting an ex-spy, he was not the type to cast the first stone either. [color=796e9c]"We can’t choose our parents. Zaria and I are a testament to that."[/color] His attention drifted toward the blonde on the other side of the table for a moment before sweeping across the room with a small sigh. [color=796e9c]"Innocent until proven guilty… [i]Right?[/i]"[/color]

Magni nodded, letting out a deep sigh as he took in his friends’ words. He was right. He had been far too presumptive, even if Rune’s arrival felt more like a bad omen than a hopeful reunion. Rune gave no outward impression that she was seeking them harm, and he did need to trust at this point that those gathered around the table were there to aid in their common cause. So, Magni flashed Tobias an apologetic smile.  [color=00aeef]"Thou art right, Tobias. I meant no offense to thee."[/color] He glanced back in Rune’s direction, taking a step closer and lifting a hand to clasp onto her shoulder. His tone shifted slightly, a steadiness settling into his voice that was right for his station. When he addressed Rune, he spoke as if issuing a decree. [color=00aeef]"We shall have much to discuss… but know that I, as Prince of Asgard, welcome thee as kin. If thou wishes to help us to find the missing, thy aid will be most welcome."[/color]

Rune stood very still beneath Magni’s hand, the tension in her shoulders no longer sharp enough to cut but not yet gone either. The room felt different now, quieter in some strange internal way, though her thoughts had only grown louder. [i]Kin.[/i] The word echoed oddly in her chest, unfamiliar despite how badly some part of her had once wanted it. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Tobias at his defense, then back to Magni. For a moment she looked younger somehow, not in face or stature, but in the uncertainty she could not quite smooth away. [color=544ABA]“Thank you,”[/color] she murmured softly. And this time, she had nothing else to say.

June let out a slow breath through her nose, the sound quiet beneath the lingering tension still clinging to the room like smoke after a fire. Her fingers loosened from the edge of the table at last, though she still looked faintly overwhelmed by the sheer scale of what the meeting had devolved into, and somewhere beneath all of it, the increasingly fragile illusion that any of them actually knew what they were doing. [color=375a87]"I’ll send out an email with the bracelet information,"[/color] she said, voice clipped but tired now, the crisp efficiency of earlier worn thin around the edges. [color=375a87]"Requests, specifications, concerns—send them directly to me or J.A.R.V.I.S. once you’ve looked everything over."[/color] Her gaze flicked briefly toward Tobias first, then Alfred and Phil in turn, searching their expressions for any sign that this disaster still had structure left to salvage. Finding none immediately comforting, June pressed her lips together and tilted her head slightly, exhaustion making her blunt where she normally would have softened the edges. [color=375a87]"I’m happy to welcome Bellamy to the tower, anything she needs we can have ordered…”[/color] Her eyes finally settled on Imogen, something pleading in June’s expression, as if she knew the other woman had to be as fed up as she was, and ready to call the meeting to an end. 

Imogen felt the weight of the glance before she saw it. The meeting had quickly turned into a powder keg that tiptoed too close to imploding far too many times to count. One more body or hurled insult could send the whole thing spiraling to a point where there was no coming back. So rather than rehash everything a second time and further stir the pot of big personalities and bigger tempers, she elected to take it upon herself to end things there, while there was still some semblance of a team remaining. 

She stood up slowly. The office chair’s wheels rattled and creaked along the tile as it rolled backwards behind her. She leaned over the table slightly, hands pressed against the edge of the wood, damp blonde hair swept over one shoulder hanging loosely as she looked around the room. [color=a8f9ff]"Well, the problem obviously isn’t mutants,"[/color] she started with a pointed comment that landed like a brick dropped in the center of the room, heavy, loud, and unavoidable. But even as she said it, her gaze focused on the wood grain of the table rather than finding its way toward her brother. [color=a8f9ff]"I don’t think retracing our steps, arguing the semantics of rules and our concerns about what this means for the future, will garner us any new information or perspectives."[/color]

Imogen’s palms ran along the edge of the table as she slowly stood more upright. [color=a8f9ff]"I think it is for the best that we adjourn before this [i]team[/i] spirals into disrepair over the course of a single meeting."[/color] She lightly folded her arms across her chest, pausing for a moment to see if there were any arguments to the contrary. Then she nodded her head before continuing. [color=a8f9ff]"If anyone realizes there is something we’ve missed, feel free to ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to schedule a meeting for tomorrow and I will be sure to bring a talking stick,"[/color] she added with the faintest bit of sarcasm laced through her otherwise tired tone that clung to what sliver of patience she had left. 

[color=a8f9ff]"Otherwise I have—"[/color] she nearly said ‘more important things’ but caught herself. While a date with Magni was a pleasant escape from the chaos that was unfolding around them… a way to seize the day. She was also aware that it wasn’t as important as their mission, and saying otherwise would be in poor taste given everything that unfolded messily over the past hour. [color=a8f9ff]"—other matters to attend to,"[/color] Imogen concluded before starting to make her way toward the door. 

As she rounded the head of the table, Alfred’s voice came gentle and grounding like a steady offering in choppy waters. [color=d6d6d6]"Ms. Frost, everything has been gathered per your request."[/color]

Imogen slowed, just for a second, long enough to spare the older gentleman a warm smile. [color=a8f9ff]"Thank you, Alfred."[/color]

Approaching the door, she paused beside the pair of Asgardians, trying to put on the most sincere and welcoming smile she could manage after the whirlwind that uprooted her day since the moment she awoke. Imogen cleared her throat, then held out her hand toward Rune in a gentle offering. [color=a8f9ff]"I am Imogen. It’s a pleasure to meet you."[/color] Her blue eyes lifted to give Magni a quick sidelong glance before looking back towards the girl opposite her. [color=a8f9ff]"Don’t worry. Family drama is pretty common here. You’ll fit right in."[/color] Her smile grew, just a fraction, with that sort of irony that was a little too raw to be anything but the truth. 

Rune looked at the offered hand for a moment before gently taking it, her grip careful and cool against Imogen’s skin. The smile that touched her mouth wavered faintly at the edges, fragile now where earlier it had been effortless, and her bright green eyes flicked once between Imogen and Magni as though trying to reconcile two entirely different versions of the same world.

The comment about family drama should have been amusing. Under different circumstances, perhaps it would have drawn one of those soft little laughs from her. Instead, something tightened painfully in her throat, leaving her quiet in the wake of Imogen’s kindness. No words came. Only a small nod, grateful and a little lost, before Rune slowly released her hand and stepped away, white heels dangling silently from her fingers.

Imogen turned toward Magni, resting a hand affectionately against his side with a gentle stroke of her thumb. [color=a8f9ff]"Seven o’clock. No peeking in my penthouse beforehand."[/color] She shifted up onto her tiptoes, craning her neck to place a fleeting kiss upon his cheek. Without another word, she gave his side a gentle squeeze and excused herself, slipping out the door and heading for the elevator.

Magni was caught between two wildly conflicting emotions, but both stemming from the same unbridled compassion he wore so blatantly on his sleeve. His eyes followed his cousin, fighting his distrustful instincts as he watched her. Her arrival had dropped a bomb on his heart, and he had a lot of rubble to sort through before he was ready to sort out Rune’s purpose here. Of course, with her, he saw an opportunity to steer her on the right track. She seemed far kinder than he had been at her age, but times were far dire than they were when he was a student. Not everyone in the tower was welcoming to her, but there was a chance rejecting her would pose a greater threat than keeping her in the loop.

And then, of course, there was the mixture of disappointment and yearning that lined Magni’s stare at Imogen’s departure. He didn’t like the idea of being left to his own devices until the evening. There was a pleasant warmth that came with being in her company that he hadn’t felt in years, and even in those times it was mere artifice. He lingered a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the door.

June watched Imogen take control of the room with the sort of exhausted diplomacy only someone raised by Emma Frost could manage, and by the time the meeting was finally, mercifully brought to heel, she felt tension slowly unwind from her spine in thin, reluctant threads. A soft sigh escaped her, quiet enough to be lost beneath the shuffle of chairs and low conversations, but the relief in it was real all the same. The room still felt bruised around the edges, full of fresh fractures and poorly concealed wounds, but at least it had not detonated entirely. She lingered where she stood for a moment, dark eyes following Imogen’s retreat toward the door, catching the fleeting kiss pressed to Magni’s cheek, the softness in her expression that had survived despite everything else. Something complicated tugged through June’s chest at the sight, fondness, worry, envy for the simplicity of affection freely shown, and she swallowed it down before it could root too deeply.

Her attention shifted back to Magni as he remained by the doorway, Rune hovering nearby like someone uncertain where she belonged now that the storm had passed. June’s brows furrowed slightly, though the smile she offered him was wry enough to soften the edge of it. [color=375a87]"I’ll find you later, Magni,"[/color] she said, one hand sliding loosely into the pocket of her trousers. [color=375a87]"Before seven, I promise."[/color] There was a beat of hesitation before the rest followed, her voice gentling almost despite herself. [color=375a87]"I understand wanting to catch up with… family."[/color] The last word tightened faintly at the edges, carrying too many meanings at once for her not to feel the strain of it. Then she turned away before the ache beneath it could linger, composure slipping neatly back into place like armor settling over bruised skin.

Magni raised an eyebrow as June spoke, nodding towards her as she addressed him. [color=00aeef]"Aye, I can afford the time to grant thee an audience."[/color] He flashed a warm grin and a nod, taking in a deep breath. He had a lot of things to figure out before the evening, and he knew just the person to aid him. He looked over towards Phil, sat at the other end of the table. [color=00aeef]"Son of Coul… a word if you will?"[/color] The man nodded, his steady gaze betraying the surprise just beneath the surface. He rose from his seat and crossed the room so the two men could slip out and speak privately.

Theo looked halfway to escaping himself when June’s gaze landed on him. She pasted on a bright, almost suspiciously pleasant smile that did not quite reach her eyes and tilted her head toward him with practiced patience. [color=375a87]"Do you have a moment, Theo?"[/color] she asked sweetly. The man blinked several times, clearly blindsided by the reminder, as though her earlier request had been entirely buried beneath the avalanche of catastrophes that had followed. His hand tightened instinctively around Myla’s, and he glanced toward her with a questioning sort of look, one that she couldn’t [i]see[/i] but could certainly [i]feel,[/i] caught somewhere between caution and confusion. June simply waited, smile fixed in place with eerie calm, tablet tucked against her side while the wheels in her mind continued turning far too fast to ever truly stop.

Myla’s head turned slightly, quirking like an animal attuning its hearing. Her hand softly tightened around Theo’s, keeping it in place before he had the opportunity to stand. She shook her head faintly, and not a moment later, Ronnie rose from her seat. The woman strutted past them like she owned the room and because it seemed like she was incapable of learning a lesson, her hand drifted dangerously close to Theo’s shoulder. Before she could touch him, Myla slipped her hand from his, reached behind him and slapped away Ronnie’s hand with a sharp sting that echoed throughout the congested conference room. [color=962929]"Fuck off,"[/color] she snapped with a coldness that was eerily calm, without ever turning to face the woman. Rather than escalating things further, [i]thankfully[/i], Ronnie took a hint, scoffing and rolling her eyes as she disappeared out into the hall. 

A second or two passed before Myla sighed. The tension that had gone rigid up her spine released and she slumped forward, running her fingers along the back of her neck. Her head turned just enough to address both June and Theo as she spoke. [color=962929]"Sorry. I think I’d rather base jump without a parachute rather than share an elevator with her."[/color] She shrugged with a playful innocence and tired laugh. Her hand fell to Theo’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze along with a small smile. [color=962929]"It’s fine. I was going to help Bellamy anyway."[/color]

June watched the exchange with growing disbelief, dark eyes narrowing the closer Ronnie’s hand drifted toward Theo like someone approaching an open flame with all the self-preservation instincts of a moth. The sharp crack of Myla slapping the woman’s hand away echoed through the room, and for one dangerous second June had to press her lips tightly together to stop herself from laughing outright. Approval flickered unmistakably across her face instead, quick and bright and deeply unhelpful for maintaining authority. Her gaze tracked Ronnie’s retreat toward the hallway, jaw locking hard enough to feather tension along the line of it, and somewhere in the increasingly concerning depths of her mind a thought surfaced with startling clarity. 

Perhaps Veronica’s bracelet [i]should[/i] include a small shock mechanism. Nothing harmful. Just enough to discourage bad behavior. Like training a particularly obnoxious dog. The idea lingered far longer than it probably should have before June forcibly dragged her attention back to Theo as Myla stood, smoothing her expression into something more professional despite the faint glimmer of amusement still threatening at the corners of her mouth. [color=375a87]"I’ll try not to keep him long,"[/color] she said dryly, though there was genuine warmth beneath it as her eyes flicked briefly toward Myla again. [color=375a87]"I need some help with the blueprints of the bracelets, want to walk with me?"[/color]

Myla gave a small smile and nod towards June. [color=962929]"I can’t keep his smarts all to myself,"[/color] she mused, giving Theo’s leg another little squeeze. She then went to stand, pushing against the table, chair wheels scraping across the tile as she rolled backwards. She slowly stood up and grabbed the ice pack from the table that had long since melted leaving behind a small puddle in its wake. She went to take a step towards the front of the room, then stopped and turned back toward June. [color=962929]"How would we go about ordering anything she might need exactly?"[/color]

Before June could respond, Alfred stood up. [color=d6d6d6]"I would be happy to assist you, Ms. Murdock."[/color] He made his way around the table toward her, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder following her toward the door. 

[color=962929]"I’ll be right back."[/color] She flashed Bellamy a small, reassuring smile before stepping out of the room. Rather than drifting toward the elevator, Alfred guided her down the opposite end of the hall to continue their conversation. 

Theo was already half rising from his chair the moment Myla stood, instinct moving faster than thought as his eyes tracked her automatically through the crowded room. The sharpness that had settled into him after Ronnie’s stunt eased little by little as he watched Alfred gently guide Myla toward the hall, steady and patient as ever while she immediately pivoted toward helping Bellamy instead of dwelling on herself. Of course she did. Of course even bruised and exhausted and stubbornly held together by spite and cauterization, Myla’s first instinct was to make sure someone else felt less alone. Something warm and unbearably soft unfurled low in Theo’s chest at the sight, spreading through him so quickly it almost made him ache, and before he could stop himself a quiet, dreamy sort of sigh escaped him under his breath as he watched her disappear through the doorway.  

June’s voice pulled him back before he could get too lost in it, and Theo blinked once like someone waking from a pleasant daze before turning toward her with an easy nod. [color=feffb5]"Yeah,"[/color] he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted away from the table. [color=feffb5]"I don’t mind helping you."[/color] But before he followed her, his gaze slipped, almost against his own will, toward Jim. Theo hesitated there for a second, expression tightening faintly as though he were arguing with himself internally about whether this was worth the effort. Eventually, though, he exhaled softly through his nose and tipped his chin toward the other man. [color=feffb5]"Hey, Stark."[/color]

He waited until Jim actually looked at him, until there was at least enough acknowledgement to make sure the words landed where they were supposed to. Theo’s posture stayed loose, shoulders relaxed, but there was an earnestness in his face now that hadn’t been there earlier, something honest threaded beneath the usual humor. [color=feffb5]"Honestly, I can’t tell if you’re emotionally stunted or just kind of a prick,"[/color] he admitted, tone dry but lacking the earlier bite, like he was trying very hard to meet the man halfway without entirely lying about his opinion. Then his mouth twitched faintly to one side and he shrugged. [color=feffb5]"But… that doesn’t excuse me not being in control of my temper, so I’m sorry. For earlier. I was wrong."[/color] He glanced briefly around the room, the tension, the chaos, the mismatched collection of people somehow trying to become something functional, and then back toward Jim. [color=feffb5]"You belong here. And this team probably wouldn’t have happened without you..."[/color]

A small huff of breath escaped him after that, equal parts awkwardness and reluctant sincerity, and Theo finally turned toward the door, moving ahead of June with his hands shoved loosely into his pockets. He didn’t look back as he spoke again, voice lighter now but carrying easily through the room anyway. [color=feffb5]"I don’t know, man,"[/color] he said with a crooked sort of honesty that sounded almost disappointed beneath the humor. [color=feffb5]"If you weren’t so… we could maybe be friends."[/color]

June lingered for a second near the edge of the table after Theo passed her, dark eyes slipping toward Jim with something unreadable flickering briefly across her expression, but she offered him a small smile before she finally followed after Theo into the hall.

Jim didn’t wait long before rising from his seat, slipping his glasses into his pocket. He slid his hands through his hair, shaking his head. It was hardly a sign of peace the spider had offered, incapable of realizing the hypocrisy given his own lack of formal apology earlier. He shook his head, making for the exit as his mind had already moved on. He had work to do, something that everyone else in the tower seemed allergic to. Jules, left awkwardly standing off to the side, took it as an opportunity to slip out the room behind him without a word.

James looked over at Aria with the quiet sort of relief that was clear to read across his face. He didn’t wait for the room to clear or for her to say she was ready to leave. That was quite enough excitement for him for one day… or like a month. He’d take what he could get. As everyone started standing and heading for the door, he gave Aria’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before releasing it. He stood up with a quiet groan, less than subtly letting his chair roll backwards and bump into Luke, acting like a small barrier to keep the dickwad in his place while they left. Once Aria was ready to stand he helped pull out her chair without giving it much thought, like chivalry was subconscious, ingrained in him since birth, not learned. He nodded his head toward the door in a silent bid for her to lead the way. [color=cb6b06]"Wanna see if there’s a bar in this place?"[/color] he asked with a quiet chuckle and a lopsided smile.

Zaria practically lit up at the suggestion, the tension that had clung to her shoulders since the meeting easing all at once beneath the promise of alcohol and escape. A breath of laughter slipped from her as she fell into step beside him. [color=00674F]“God, yes, please,”[/color] she said easily, the words tumbling out with heartfelt sincerity. [color=00674F]“Any sane person would need a drink after a meeting like this.”[/color]

She followed him into the hallway, the lingering heaviness of the conference room still pressing faintly against her spine like storm clouds refusing to fully break apart. As they walked, her gaze flicked back only once. Bellamy still sat at the table, pale and folded inward like someone trying to make herself smaller beneath the weight of grief and memory and too many watching eyes. The sight tugged painfully at Zaria’s chest, but there was nothing she could offer the girl here, not now, so she turned away again and matched her pace to James’s instead—drawn instinctively toward the steadiness of his presence, toward the promise of dim lights and a drink strong enough to burn the edge off the day. However, when she spotted Rune still standing near the door, looking lost, she offered a kind smile to the woman.  [color=00674F]“Did you want to come with us?”[/color] She asked after a beat, throwing an uncertain glance toward James, wondering if he’d mind. She just looked so… alone, so confused, it felt weird to leave her there alone. 

James shrugged. He was probably the easiest person to convince, or perhaps the most unbothered by whomever everyone’s parents were. Hela, Magneto, Doctor Doom… [i]whatever.[/i] We were all people and until one of them gave him a reason to hate them, then he didn’t care. [color=cb6b06]"There’s always one more seat open on the weirdo wagon,"[/color] he offered with an exhausted laugh and a lopsided grin. [color=cb6b06]"We can teach you about the horrors of Midgardian booze, and worse… [i]hangovers.[/i]"[/color]

Rune looked between the blonde woman and her companion, expression conflicted, but something in the softness of the woman's gaze, and how easily the man offered a laugh,  compelled her to agree. [color=544aba]"Okay,"[/color] the Asgardian murmured, trailing behind the pair out of the room with the air of a lost duckling. 

Tobias sighed as the room finally started to empty and he felt like he was able to breathe for the first time since the meeting started. His free hand raised to pinch the bridge of his nose, then slid back through his hair with another deep breath. [color=796e9c]"Thank god that’s over,"[/color] he muttered quietly, barely loud enough for Bellamy to hear seated before him as his hand lifted from the back of the chair to rest against her shoulder. [color=796e9c]"Take a second,"[/color] he reassured her with a gentle stroke of his thumb as his gaze trailed after Myla and Alfred stepping out into the hall. [color=796e9c]"I need to ask Alfred something real quick. Be right back."[/color] He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze then slipped out of the room after them. 

Bellamy let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped inside her lungs for the entire duration of the meeting, slow and shaky as it escaped her in pieces. The tension in the room had pressed against her from all sides until she’d felt brittle beneath it, and only now, with people beginning to leave and the sharpest edges of conflict fading into the hallway, did she realize how tightly wound she’d become. Her fingers loosened where they’d curled in her lap, and she tipped her head back just enough to look up at Tobias when his hand settled warmly against her shoulder again. [color=bdddff]"I’ll be here,"[/color] she said weakly, though she managed the best smile she could muster for him all the same, small and tired and still a little fragile around the edges after the whirlwind they’d just survived together.

After he slipped from the room, Bellamy sat still for another beat before finally pushing herself to her feet. Her legs ached faintly from sitting curled in on herself for so long, and she stretched carefully, shoulders rolling back with a quiet wince before she drifted toward the windows again almost unconsciously, drawn to the open space beyond the glass. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she gazed down at the pool below, sunlight scattering across the water in bright ripples that looked impossibly calm compared to the storm that had just torn through the conference room. For a moment she simply stood there in silence, watching the surface shimmer and sway, wondering distantly what it must feel like to move through water without fear, without grief sitting like a stone in her chest, without the terrible awareness that her entire life had split cleanly into a before and after she could never stitch back together again.

The tower stirred with prodded tempers and frayed egos as the meeting disbanded with a startled speed, scattering like beetles cast in light. While much was discovered, little was settled, and the only thing for certain was that they were somehow farther from being a team than they had been at the beginning of the meeting… A startling truth that no one wished to address.

… What could possibly go wrong?

[b][i]End of Part 2[/i][/b][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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