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ᵀʰᵉ Last Avatar & ᵀʰᵉ Red Lotus.

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Upper Ring · Morning · [&.Exit]Upper Ring · Late Afternoon · _ Zhen’s morning started at the Metropolitan Club of Ba Sing Se. One of the city’s oldest social clubs currently was housed in a modernist building, seated in the middle of one of the canals that ran through the Upper Ring. The top level was a gorgeous Chuiwan course, always packed with people spending more time discussing business than they did actually trying to hit the ball into the hole through the finely crafted maze of obstacles. Those who tried to work on their stroke spent time at the practice range, hoping to improve their score on one of the city’s most fiendishly difficult courses, frequently sending another ball out into the water. The lower levels of the building actually dipped below the water line of the canal, letting the occupants see into the clear blue waters whenever they looked out the window. The restaurant section of the club used this to the greatest effect; all three levels were covered in a wedge of floor to ceiling windows, like a transparent ship’s bow set in the water. There wasn’t a single table with a bad view. This was where Zhen found herself, showing up for the regular breakfast meeting of esteemed ladies of the Upper Ring. Who showed up varied, but one of the staples was Kazuha, who was talking as Zhen sat down. “So they’ve rented the stadium for the rally on short notice, I’m impressed they had this all ready only a few days after the incident. Everyone is walking in; finding their seats and the sound system is ready. The speaker is prepping himself before he goes on. And back here they’ve got this massive, just enormous pile of Chu jerseys, ready to wheel them out when the time is right for the bonfire. One of them even has got the flamethrower ready and he’s trying it out on scraps of paper, doesn’t even care if he sets off the smoke alarm. Anyway, the two people in charge are standing there and they just keep going back and forth if they should go through with it. One of them says it’s a great visual to have big pile of burning jerseys, then the other says but it’d be traumatic, and too similar to what Chu did. Some third genius chimes in with the fact that apparently burning objects in public could be a sign of respect in the days of the Fire Nation, and then they’re all shouting about what do we do with this giant pile of jerseys we collected, can’t give ‘em back, can’t just forget about them. So that’s when I tell them ‘I don’t care what you do with them, but if you don’t figure out something right now then I’ll be needing that flamethrower over there because I’m going to use it on the check that would’ve been my next donation to you’ “ Somewhere in Kazuha’s tangled mess of a family tree lies ties to both the Moons and the Satos. She is far too removed to have involvement in the interests of either, and her fortune isn’t even close to making the list of the cities richest. It’s still far beyond what an ordinary citizen could attain, and gives her the ability to live a life of luxury and buy influence. She deploys it strategically; hunting for wherever will give her the most influence for her Yuan; now she sits on the board of half a dozen major organizations and even more small ones. Zhen knows her because she’s on the Board of Supervisors for the University of Ba Sing Se; others might know her as one the biggest supporters of the Equalist League. Also with her was the other stalwart of the breakfast gatherings, Shujia. Shujia’s husband is the Duke of Gaoling. He rules over nothing, Gaoling is just another territory on the map, shaded in as Republic territory, but the most it ever sees are a few planes flying over it; Shujia’s family has never set foot in it, practically no one from Ba Sing Se has since the Great War. The title of Duke lives on, and off of it the family has continued to accumulate influential positions without any justification other than the title they hold. There is one more with them, the youngest of the group, Yunjin. She is a former RSF pilot who founded her own company a few years ago. It’s seen explosive growth and is said to have all three of the Zaibatsu submitting bids to buy it, rocketing its founder into a realm of wealth and status she had never known before. She sits ram-rod straight, just like they taught her in the service, and wears an immaculate outfit that is two seasons out of style. She doesn’t talk much, shifting her eyes around and struggling to find an opening in the conversation. After joining them they talked about the usual business of the upper ring, dominated by rumors about other people in their social circles. When Zhen discussed her foundation’s work or progress on her manuscript, Kazuha and Shujia feigned interest, not wanting to appear uncultured; Yunjin genuinely wanted to hear more but each time it goes on too long the conversation drifts back to particulars of the personal lives of the royal court or the indiscretions of the corporate elite. When the waiter came by they all place their orders: Smoked Sea Slug for Kazuha, Wild Elephant Koi rolls for Shujia, Tsampa for Zhen and Moo-sow bacon for Yunjin. They had accepted Zhen’s bland, vegan diet into their social circle, but as a newcomer, Yunjin wasn’t spared their scrutiny. She explained that she was always fond of Moo-sow bacon from her time in the service, the commanding officer always made sure they ate well before they had a particularly grueling mission, no matter how many favors he had to call in with the quartermaster. There was a silence as Kazuha and Shujia refused to respond, cultivating the awkwardness as a way of highlighting her lack of sophistication, until Zhen came in and turned to a more intellectual topic, discussing food insecurity in the Lower Ring, sharing what she had learned recently. When the waiter came he set their plates down quickly, the height of the breakfast rush gave him little time to pause. He pushed a heavily loaded cart up a spot a few tables down, but he forgot to engage the brakes. While he was looking away, it began to roll, picking up speed and heading towards Zhen’s seat. Shujia screamed when she saw it. Once Zhen noticed, she leaned back in her chair, tilting it onto its hind legs. As it was almost falling over she holds her hands up and touches the floor when it starts to come down, supporting her weight on them, then pivots the rest of her body to complete the flip. She stood tall, giving her shirt and her pants a wipe to clear out the wrinkles, looking over the aftermath of the collision of the cart and the chair. None of the fallen food reached her. Shujia stared at the waiter and shouted to him “What is your name?’ “Vang” He said “Go home now. Don’t come back, ever. Also don’t bother applying to any jobs at any other respectable dining establishment on the upper ring either.” She said “Uhmmm?” Then Shujia stood up out of her chair and began to walk towards him. She said “Do as I say while I still have some patience left. Don’t bother bringing this up with your supervisor, it’s best to leave now. Dally and you may find yourself facing criminal charges.” Vang was out of there as quick humanly possible without hitting anyone else. Kazuha said “That was an impressive maneuver there. I’m surprised you find time to stay so fit, professor. What’s your secret?” “I bet it’s yoga.” Shujia said “It’s not any one thing, but I prefer to keep the details to myself. Having some secrets can be fun, after all.” Zhen said “Look at you professor, keeping secrets, doing yoga, eating like an Air Nomad, reading Bender texts. Some might say you’re going soft.” Shujia said “If people wonder about my views I would direct them to read my books. If one reads them they should have a good grasp on what I believe.” Zhen said “What would you say to those who don’t want to read them?” Kazuha said “I’d say what I say to some of my students, unfortunately I am not your mother and I don’t have the time in my schedule to read you a book and tuck you in at night. Although I might prefer that to having to sit through another one of these meetings about all the minutiae of reopening the university after last week’s incidents.” Zhen said “Are they taking steps to ensure the campus is safe from Benders?” Kazuha said “They are, along with discussing other priorities.” Zhen said “What could be a higher priority that keeping Benders away from our young students?” Shujia said “It is not an issue we are ignoring, I can assure you.” Zhen said Before anyone could answer, Yunjin spoke “Any of you ever kill a Bender before?” “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Kazuha said “I was saying, you guys talk a lot about them but I was wondering if any of you has ever killed one of them before.” Yunjin said “No…none of us have. Why would you ask?” Shujia said “Because I have, and I don’t think any of you would know what it’s like. It didn’t feel good. Didn’t really feel bad either, didn’t feel like much of anything. For me, up in the VTOL bird, I just lined one up in the gunsight and squeezed the trigger. Let the first burst go and it hit the mark, no need for a second. I just saw them in the blurry little black and white screen, they twitched for a moment when the bullets hit them and that was that. They fell over and never moved again. The radio was loud after that, some people asking for a confirmation, some hooting and hollering, but I was quiet.” Yunjin said. There was more silence. “Anyway, what I meant was, we spend a lot of time thinking about them, building ‘em up like some kind of monsters, but in the end they’re just flesh and blood. I don’t like ‘em, and I did the right thing that day, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotta keep how much I hate them always on my mind. I can live my life better if I don’t have to think about them all the time. Not every problem in the world is caused by Benders.” All three were quiet. Zhen was stone-faced, a calm and blank expression revealing no feeling. Kazuha seemed to want to say something but held off, never saying a word. Shujia gave her the type of contemptuous glare that came from generations of privilege, wishing she could stare so intensely that it would evict Yunjin on the spot. The finished up breakfast and parted ways with little further discussion. Yunjin and Zhen made sure to exchange contact details with as they left, out of sight from the other two. Yunjin might not be welcome back at the breakfast gatherings again but Zhen admired her courage. Zhen took the monorail home. In the upper ring it is clean and always on-time, but few residents ride it. The main users are the workers, those who commute in from elsewhere to serve the denizens of the upper ring. She used the time to compose a message to one of her assistants at the Doing What We Can Foundation. Subject: New Pilot Program – Direct Cash Aid to local leaders I have a new idea for deploying our funds that I want to investigate with a pilot program: direct cash aid to the Lower Ring, to be distributed by a local leader. I would like to begin promptly with an initial one-off trial, budgeting four hundred thousand Yuan. Please work on guidance for the recipient although we won’t impose strict controls at the start. We will ask them to keep records and then rely on those and our own auditing before we consider expanding it. This could potentially increase the speed and reduce costs associated with deploying funds. Please implement this when you can. I know the first recipient and can forward them instructions once the funds are available. She also saw there was another message for her, but it was of a nature that was too sensitive to check in a public space. That would until she got home. Zhen looked out the window and saw neighborhoods pass; each one had a particular character to it. There’s one for the old money, another has mostly nobles, one that is where government officials settle, and each of the megacorps have their own place where they encourage their executives to live. The one where she resides is a collection of miscellaneous professions, the homes there are beautiful but some of the more humble by the standards of the Upper Ring. The house Zhen and Xiaoxu lived in was a clean black rectangle, apart from one notable feature: a semi-opaque glass façade covering an inner garden, complete with trees and a pool of water. The interior was more conventional, filled with sharp angles and minimalist décor, but the basement held something that not every house in the Upper Ring had: a space specially treated to prevent any outside surveillance and allow for classified communications. This was where she headed after entering, going to return the message she saw on the bus. The secure area was divided into two halves, so that both she and her husband had their own work area; he needed his for consultations with the Ministry of Justice, and as far as he knew hers was for handling the classified spiritual texts she had access to. She could see him on the phone when she went in. She made a call to one of the “men upstairs”, the people who had a say in just about anything in her life and were particularly keen on guiding the operations of her foundation. To her surprise, they picked up when she called. The conversation was brief, she asked “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” “Oh, not much. Just wanted to let you know there might be a change in priorities when it comes to where your foundation’s funds are directed.” “What kind of changes?” “I’m afraid I can’t share that yet. We will let you know when it is time. For now, just wait; be nice and obedient and ready to do as we say. That is all.” He hung up. Zhen took some time to process it then stepped out just in time to see her husband wrapping up his call. As soon as he was in the hallway he shouted. “FUCK! FUCK THEM ALL!” “Uhm, uh, what happened? Zhen said “Those pricks at the Ministry of Justice put everyone with two braincells to rub together on the case of the Advisor caught bending, but when I ask if I can be part of it they tell “Oh, Prosecutor Zhang , we need you on this other very important case” I wasn’t asking for much, just a speaking section at the trial, doesn’t even has to be cross examination, I know they’re picky about those because you have to make the witness breaking down believable for everyone watching on the screen but come on, the trial is a big event, can’t they find some spot in it for me? I was the king of Mock Trials back in law school, undefeated, perfect record. You can’t leave a talent like me out even if it would’ve been my first trial. Anything else is going to be a downgrade.” He said “I’m sorry to hear that. I think they will regret their decision once they’ve had time to reflect.” She said “I don’t want to give them time; I want those imbeciles to own up to how wrong they are. Nothing is going right. The day I get made prosecutor the city explodes in a mess of bending and that’s all anyone can talk about. The big gala got rescheduled and of course it’s all going to Benders this, Benders that. Even the little things are going wrong. Two days ago, we were supposed to celebrate my promotion, but you had that little emergency meeting with the government.” He said “I’m sorry about that; they needed an expert on Bender history on short notice. We still got to celebrate the day after.” “It wasn’t the same; it ruined the reservation I had at The Fat Turtle Duck. I couldn’t celebrate there by myself; it wouldn’t send the right message. Because I had to reschedule to a time when you were available, I ended up at Narook’s again, like every other middle manager celebrating their promotions.” He said. Zhen thought it was best to change the subject. “What about the case that they did give you?” She asked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Some dumb bitch that decided to shoot a security robot the same day her fiancé turned herself into a human torch in the middle of Badgermole stadium. I think I only got this one because I wrote that law review article arguing for full equivalence between crimes against RSF officers and ones committed against RSF robots. Cranked that one out over a weekend but they liked it, I knew they would. Anyway, so my first case is against this nobody, An Tamura or something. If anyone else remembers her name, I hope it’ll be because of how bad I destroy her. Maybe if I do well enough they’ll give me Chu next, assuming they catch her alive. Huh, I wonder how many people in the prosecutor’s office have ever gotten both members of a couple on separate occasions, let alone done it back to back. If I do that I’ll have to tell people about it, maybe even make an award, they can call it the Xiaoxu Award, it’ll go to anyone who nails both members of a couple back to back.” He looked very satisfied with himself after saying that, while Zhen looked puzzled. “When I say nailed, I mean, in the courtroom, y’know. You wouldn’t know because you aren’t part of those circles but we do talk like that, it’s common slang, trust me.” “I will take your word for it. I have one meeting at the University today, other than that I’ll until it’s time to get ready for the Gala tonight.” She went upstairs, looking forward to getting a moment of quiet in her busy life.

ᵀʰᵉ Last Avatar & ᵀʰᵉ Red Lotus.

Zhen Mie Lun

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Name: Zhen Mie Lun
Age: 35
Gender: Female
Element: Air

Residence: Upper Ring
Occupation: Professor at the University of Ba Sing Se

Who are you?

My childhood was normal until the age of seven. My parents were both well placed government officials and from families with illustrious histories and high expectations. The Lun family has historically relied on their wits and their reputation for excellent work; they did not have a noble title or great wealth that could carry them, a single disappointing generation could ruin all that they had. Having a Bender inside the family was not an option for them, and so as soon as I turned seven and was old enough that the test was accurate, they administered a test for bending ability; they would do the same for my younger siblings. Unlike them, I was a Bender. What followed next was an extremely loud screaming match between my parents of which I only remember portions of, but my Grandfather’s files have helped me regarding the details.

Eventually they stopped shouting about whose side of the family was at fault, if the claim of five hundred years of nonbenders on my father’s side was false, how their admittedly far-fetched dream of having me grow up to marry a certain young prince was now completely impossible and worked on a course of action. They explored whether they could go to the RSF without any public exposure or if they should simply try to handle the matter in the privacy of their own home and concoct a story about a tragic accident, but then my Grandfather mentioned another option, one he learned about when he received the security clearances necessary for his term as Minister of Economy, Trade, and Industry: The LSF.

All was arranged for my parents, the paperwork for my trip to “boarding school” was produced, and if I died they were assured that all of the official records would say nothing of the actual circumstances. The years in training were unpleasant; I am told I cried a lot at first, more than most, but also that I displayed a commendable amount of endurance and malleability. I recall them comparing me to wet clay.

After training they determined other ways that I could be useful. At the time there was a classified project inside the RSF to catalog the old spiritual works of the benders, and I was invited to join them. It was a welcome change, and all of those hours inside the classified library are times I look back fondly on, especially as my relationship with my parents never fully recovered. My work proved useful when a new directive came from the highest levels of the government; a plan to replace the previous official policy of total censorship regarding the works of the past with an effort to develop a counter-narrative. They laid out a plan for my adult life; I would be the intellectual spearhead of this movement, a philosophical wunderkind. It went exactly as expected; my first published work was a scathing and authoritative analysis of Bender spirituality, immediately it was hailed as the definitive treatment of the topic. More acclaim followed, I became a staple of televised debates, my books reached the bestseller lists, and my rise in the philosophy department at the University of Ba Sing Se has been one of the fastest in the long history of the college. I broadened my horizons, producing works of moral philosophy that argued for a new, modern system based on utilitarian concerns, creating the Doing What We Can charitable foundation, which is committed to using its money towards whatever cause would save the most lives per Yuan, and marrying an equally fast rising law professor. In all outward respects, my life has been a success, my Husband and I are constant fixtures at prestigious social gatherings, I have humiliated my philosophical opponents in public debates, and I live in a lovely house in the upper ring that’s only downside is having to commute to the middle ring when it is time to teach classes. None of this matters, none of this can make me happy. I have a two thousand page manuscript sitting unfinished where I am to defend notions that I have long stopped believing, obsolete ideas like objective truth and free will. It doesn’t matter how many people tell me I am right if I don’t believe it myself, if I can’t see the world as anything except a collection of particles. I feel like I would be happier without the fame, without the prestige, if I could just go back to those days where I sat all by myself in the classified library. My marriage is one without love, it lumbers onward sustained by sheer inertia, neither I nor my husband invest any intimacy or care in it. I suspect he finds it elsewhere, while I learn to do without except for the rare moments of daydreaming of another relationship. The only thing I can say I truly like is teaching, whether it is instructing Ba Sing Se’s finest at the university, or helping to sharpen the next batch of LSF, there is something satisfying about shaping someone’s mind and seeing them grow.


What is your opinion on Benders?
I would like to preface this by saying that I am well versed in the philosophical works of the Bender era. I have read the religious and philosophical works of six Avatars, along with the spiritual works of Guru Pathik, Guru Laghima, Tenzin, Katara, Iroh, Zaheer, Unalaq, and Jinora and many other important works. I would venture to say that I have read more comprehensively on this subject than anyone else known to the public (I acknowledge to possibility there may be some with greater knowledge who aren’t yet known). I have found all of these works to be wanting and inferior to modern philosophy, full of untruths and sloppy logic. I find more value in analyzing their words as an insight into primitive psychology and anxieties rather than taking them as serious attempts to answer philosophical questions.

Those words were about the Bender’s philosophical system, but I am equally hostile towards the act of Bending. The legacy of Benders has been one of strife, inequality, and a feebleminded worldview that destroys any hope of progress. Bending is simply incompatible with a modern society, one that guarantees welfare for all and finds truths that were obscured by old superstitions. I say this without any malice to individual Benders; I will even admit our present system is excessively cruel. I wish that I could persuade all of them to see what is at stake so that would give up voluntarily, and even if there are some who cannot be swayed, I want their neutralization to be swift and without any suffering. This is the cost of the modern world, where modern agriculture and medicine have saved more lives than even the greatest Avatars, and one that surely has even more wonders we have yet to see. Perhaps tomorrows scientists shall abolish death, put joy in a pill or find a way to download ten thousand minds into a device the size of a pebble. Will there be a moment when we have found the last answer, when there is no mystery left in the world? I don’t know, but the present system is the only thing that has any hope of reaching that goal. That alone means that there is no cost I would not bear to uphold it.

Bending Skills
Master-level Air Bender
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Equipment:
Combat Suit:


Features:
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Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Dr. Strange

What he had learned from the prophecy meant that Strange needed to get in touch with Magik as soon as he could. A telepathic message would be the normal way, but Magik lived a very eventful life; one never knew if she would be off in another galaxy or visiting some demon realm. Not being familiar enough with her signature to locate her without expending some effort, Strange decided the best option was to send a general message in the direction of Krakoa; someone there would know how to reach her. That gave him time to wait for a reply, and so he looked into another mystery,

Strange figured out that the meal ordering app on the back of the business card he found was a way of arranging a covert meeting. It advertised one free dine in or carry out meal anywhere in Manhattan, all he had to do was select the time. The fact they had timeslots open all week as soon as one hour from now showed that they were serious about trying to reach him.

The place he chose was called #1 Authentic World Famous Ray’s Original Pizza Manhattan. Despite the constant flow of tourists from the bus terminal every local knew it was awful. Inside there was a line out the door, full of people wearing newly bought “I <3 NY” shirts, speaking in a half dozen languages as they waited to grab a lukewarm piece of greasy pizza from one of the grumpy teenagers working behind the counter. Strange surveyed the place once he arrived and waited in the short line to pick up his order, as soon as he grabbed it a man sitting in at an empty table in the back started to walk towards him. He was in his mid-40s, wearing the midtown finance bro signature of Chinos, a plaid shirt, and Patagonia vest. Strange turned to the right, then to the left, and noticed the man still came towards his place, following the twisting path through the crowd. In all likelihood, that was the man coming to meet him.

Strange waved his hand and a field of magic fell over the area. Time slowed to a crawl, a spilled drink stayed mid fall, people stayed mid stride, and a dozen conversations became just extended noises. Then for his next trick he opened a line of telepathic communication to the main that was following him, confident he had the right person based on both deduction and magical intuition.

Strange sent his first message

“Don’t be alarmed, time is still moving, just at an extremely slow pace. Physically, neither of us will be able to do much but telepathically we can still have a full conversation in the time until the spell wears off. I apologize about not asking, but this is a very secure way of doing things. Not only is our telepathic broadcast warded and controlled enough that it will be difficult to notice, this will make it very short and nigh-impossible for an eavesdropper to understand. I hope you appreciate the security.”

The man replied

“I do, might take me a bit to get used to, hit me out of nowhere. You know I’ve gotten a little bit of telepathic training, purely defensive stuff but necessary with the threat model we deal with, and even before then I was with SHIELD and the three letter agencies when they started getting interested in this kind of thing.”

“Intriguing. I would like to know more about why you contacted me, whoever you are.”

“You can call me Agent Graham, and I’ll be honest with you, I’m from Orchis. What do you know about us?”

“Three things: The boilerplate on our website, the fact your ads ran alongside a lot of anti-mutant material in major press outlets, and that the Mutant Legal Defense Fund has added you to their list of anti-mutant hate groups.”

“Yeah…about that. I can’t exactly beat around the bush here but what I can say is that they don’t have the full perspective. Might not do much good to say it, but I’m not some Greydon Creed, Cameron Hodge type who just starts foaming at the mouth the moment they smell an X-gene on someone. I’ve never done anything to them personally, I’ve interacted affably with the few I’ve known, and I think you’d be surprised by how many of them would prefer us to that Krakoa business.”

“Whether I choose believe that or not I still don’t understand what you want to tell me. I think you know my current perspective based on my past actions, and my stance on recent issues is not yet settled. I would like to hear what your aim is.”

“Glad you asked, I’ll get right to it. Now, to start I’m gonna throw out an MLK quote, and it’s probably not one of the one’s you’d think. ‘Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.’ King said that when there were thirty two thousand nuclear warheads in the world. What he didn’t know was that even then there were people walking the earth born with powers inside them that would dwarf every one of those bombs put together. There were a handful of them then, there are many more now, and who knows what the future will bring? Let’s talk about it in a different way.”

Agent Graham concentrated and a square of text and images appeared by his side, superimposed into the pizza restaurant. In the tone of his telepathic delivery Strange could tell he was surprised in a good way by his ability to leverage the medium and project something other than simple messages.

“Sorry some of the contents of my mind look like a powerpoint presentation it’s a bad habit I picked up. Believe me, I used to be the kind of guy that dove into papers back when I was the Kennedy School and SAIS, but enough years in the government will change you. To get to the point, I’ve got a couple of graphs that should tell the story.”

He flicked through a dozen charts, each showing trends over time of very serious matters. They included a logarithmic scale of known superhuman and their power outputs, a count of the postgenius level intellects on earth, a list of recorded incidents where extinction was narrowly averted, and more. Strange found them generally accurate, he could guess most of the datapoints; a few were missing but mistakes were inevitable, and all showed an upward trend over time. Then the agent wave his hand and all of the charts became divided into two colors, one representing mutants and one representing humans. Now an even clearer trend emerged: Mutants had been grabbing a greater and greater share. The agent said

“I minored in Math, but you don’t need me to tell you the way it’s going, heck even drawing a line on it is overkill. I’ve got another set.”

He pulled up charts related to the mutant population over time, all of the valleys from moments like the Genoshan genocide and M Day were clearly present, and supplemented them with a chart of mutants as a percentage of births, showing that although the population had faced a setback, it would rebound to even greater heights in the future.

“One final one, the showstopper.”

The charts from before returned, but now an additional feature: these showed what would’ve been without those incidents, how the mutants would’ve held an even greater share than they do now, and more than that, they showed the future projections, of mutant power spiraling so far the axes of the graphs had to be adjusted, so dominant that the human portion fell to an imperceptible sliver underneath.

“The funny thing about showing off these graphs is that it’s something most mutants agree with, something they’ll tell you it all if you ask them and it’s a point of pride for a lot of them. Everything I said here could be recycled into a Magneto speech and none of it would feel out of place. I’ll agree with all of the stuff Magneto says about the awesome power of the mutants, how they’re so much above the humans, except for one aspect, one point where I disagree with him: the ethical dimension. Homo Sapien and Homo Superior, there is one thing all of us share: the same hardwired instincts from our animal ancestors, underneath us all is some beast that is categorizing the entire world into things it wants to kill and things it wants to mate with. We can fight it, we do a pretty good job of in modern society, but we’ll never eradicate it, and mutants are no stronger against it than anyone else on the street, they just have way, way worse consequences if they do ever go sideways. If the mutants were a race of saints, down to every last one of them, maybe we could just go back to sleepwalking through our lives, but you and I both know that is a chance we can’t take. There is a loaded gun pointed at the temple of the human race, and we’ve got to find some solution other than hoping the mutant holding it doesn’t feel like pulling the trigger.”

Strange replied

“Interesting that there is one area missing from your chart, yet it is one that you alluded to: the spiritual dimension. I’ve never seen your agencies try to measure it, and if you did I wouldn’t trust your results, but I have seen much of it and I can speak from experience that it is the great equalizer. I’ve probably met or corresponded at least once with every one of the postgeniuses on your chart and I can tell you it is remarkable how little their talents correlate with magical aptitude; every attempt to find some inherent trait that will foretell who has a special genius for magic has failed miserably. I’ve tried to tutor Richards, Stark, Pym, Cho and others, none of them ever got far when it came to the mystical arts, and I’m only aware of two individual who have reached high levels in both science and magic. There’s even figures like Arash the Fool, an illiterate Persian mystic who never learned to count beyond ten or any mundane trade, but had magical power great enough to rearrange realms merely by misremembering where everything was before. Imaginary numbers came into existence when someone tried to teach him math. It seems to me that in the magical dimension we are all equals, human and mutant alike. I certainly haven’t seen any threat of mutant domination in that area.”

“Haven’t seen any yet.”

“I don’t indulge in fear-mongering. Even if I did, I wouldn’t trust your solutions. I prefer to see people as changeable, not fixed, and believe that moral character is something that can be built, can be honed and taught. I’ve always believed for that, I’ve always worked for that, and if your statistics are true then my work is more important than ever before. I see no reason to abandon my approach.”

“So you’ll do what? Hold some teach-ins, do some consciousness raising, and hope that’ll be enough to awaken the world and usher in a new age where we all just hold hands and sing?”

“You have a very small view of the possibilities.”

“Maybe I do, but I don’t deal with that kind of stuff, I deal with the concrete. Give me a call when you start to get worried, because you will, sooner or later. Every human will.”

Time began to move again and they both turned off in opposite directions, never exchanging a single spoken word.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Dr. Strange

The simple pleasures of a shave and shower in his own place had been exquisite, enough to clear any lingering feelings of remorse of losing the title of Sorcerer Supreme. He didn’t doubt Wong’s capabilities, it was just that Strange had gotten used to the role, and adapting would be one more part of the adjustment of returning home. After he finished up and ate some breakfast, Strange spent the morning gathering some of his belongings, and then stopped by the foyer on his way out to say a temporary goodbye to Wong.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? Your room is just like you left it, and I’m sure there’s plenty you can do around here.” Wong said.

“No, I’m good. I’ll leave my stuff there and I might pop in, but I want to get out of my comfort zone. It’s all too familiar here.” Strange said.

“Alright, but just remember, you’re welcome any time.” Wong said

“Sure, and I’m glad things have been going well while I’m out. I think you’ll do a great job as Sorcerer Supreme.” Strange said.
“Thank you, It’s a great honor to have this responsibility. I just hope I can live up to the previous examples.”

“I’ve only heard a little bit but it sounds like it’s going well so far. Any goals you’ve set for yourself?”

“Well, I think comparisons between us are going to be inevitable, so I might as well work off of that benchmark. I’m aiming for the same amount of saving the earth; maybe a little less mess along the way.”

“Fair. If there’s anyone I trust to do that it’s you. I’ll see you around.” Strange said as he stepped out the door.

One of the old tricks of the Sanctum Sanctorum was that the back door would deposit someone on any street in Manhattan as long as you thought about it hard enough. That tripped up quite a few visitors, but for Strange it was just an easier way of getting to the library. He had four months worth of news to catch up on and some time to kill while he waited for his check-in at the hotel. Strange grabbed whole stacks of back issues of the newspapers and magazines from the periodical section and walked over to a table where carved out space for his pile. Even before he was trained in the mystical arts, Strange had a knack for reading quickly and remembering most of it; it was hard to get through a top flight medical school without that. The pages flitted by as he went through the events of the past quarter, as soon as he had finished reading one another floated over and opened itself, continuing the rapid pace. An animated pen filled up a scroll conjured from underneath his cloak with notes, half-muttered, half transmitted through telepathy. It was a symphony of activity around Strange, hyperfocused and devouring information with mystifying speed. The thrill continued until he felt someone tap him on the shoulder and suddenly it all paused. An old lady with a library ID badge had gotten his attention, and spoke in a voice that was trying to be firm but clearly startled “Ummm, sir I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to take your activities elsewhere. You’re scaring our other patrons.” Strange looked up slowly and saw that everyone in the room, from those seated at the table to the ones just walking by had stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him, and made sure to give him a wide berth.

While walking through Bryant Park after his unceremonious exit from the library Strange stopped by a news stand. He looked over the newspapers and magazines and bought a few different ones, even though all of their headlines were about one thing: Krakoa. He could tell it was a big deal when he was going through the back issues in the library, and even before he got inside he saw two rival groups holding rallies in the park. They were still there, just as determined as before. The pro-mutant side was clearly enjoying themselves; despite the signs they held it had the atmosphere of a celebration. Everyone on the anti-mutant was angry, whether it was simmering anger or blinding hatred varied from person to person. They chanted their slogans and alternated between glaring menacingly at the pro-mutant side and the cops manning the barricades separating them. Strange took a roundabout way to the subway station to avoid them.

On the train Strange enjoyed a proper New York bagel for the first time in what felt like thousands of years. Interdimensional wars didn’t care much about good food. Part of the reason he was so focused on the present and catching up was because it let him block out memories of the war. It had consumed him so fully for so long that much of it melded together into one massive event. He wish he could say he had come out of it better, but there was nothing he liked about it now, not even the “gift” they gave him at the end, a glimpse of the future as a way of thanking him for his dedication. That one would take him time to unpack, like many prophecies it operated on multiple levels, he had seen images, heard words, felt auras and so much more. Examining it would be for another time. For now he just focused on his food and the copy of the New York Times he had floating in front of him, reading about the UN recognition of Krakoa. No one on the subway thought it wise to bother the man who could make a newspaper levitate.

His room at the Hotel Chelsea was ready for him now. The clerk gave him a standard warning about how it was New York’s most haunted hotel, and Strange did his best not to laugh; while the clerk was talking he could see a whole host of malevolent spirits fleeing the premises, having realized who would be their new neighbor. Perhaps Wong could get one of the students to track them down before they found another place to haunt. Before he even opened the door he noticed someone had left a business card in the frame; oddly it was solid black, not a single mark on it. There was no magic residue at least, so Strange picked it up and filed it away as a curiosity.

Traveling was easy with magic, even a small bag could hold an enormous amount and with the right spell it could pack or unpack itself. As soon as Strange was sitting down his record player had already settled itself and loaded a Mahavishnu Orchestra album, and the electric kettle was readying a cup of tea. He held the business card in hand and twirled like one of those cheap birthday party magicians, then came up with an idea as he supped on his tea. A spell let him see the past of the object, and with that he saw what had been printed on it before it was covered in black: The web address of a meal delivery service on one side, and a logo he had never seen before on the front, along with one simple phrase “We’d like to talk”. It could’ve just been an advertising gimmick, but Strange had a lifelong belief in meaningful coincidences, and filed the logo away in his memory as he set the card down.

From the stack he opted to start with was a special issue of Time, “Krakoa: A Guide”. Most of it was basic, a lot of the profiles were of people who he had met personally, some of it was incorrect; overall it did help him learn about the power players and the features of Krakoan society. Strange kept reading and noticed a particular slant to the advertising, not a single slot was filled with the usual material about soft drinks and car brands. The most premium places had been taken by interests affiliated with Krakoa, the largest was an open letter from Xavier to the nations of the world, and further spaces were taken by the Hellfire Trading Company, the His Dream Foundation, Summers News and Media, and other mutant affiliated causes. All of it was glossy, well done, a little heavy on PR speak but clearly an earnest attempt to win the hearts and minds of the world, Human and Mutant alike. The rest of the ads were more numerous but less polished, and they all shared one feature: absolute opposition to mutants. It was impressive how every one seemed to come from a different group. Some of them tried to act highbrow, claiming to raise legitimate concerns about international law, world security, and human rights, couched in the sort of language common in the halls of power; those were credited to NGOs with little history and very generic names. Other ads came from groups aligned with old foes of mutantkind like the Friends of Humanity and the Church of Human Potential or new organizations like Facts and Logic About the Mutant Experience, and their content was downright vile. They featured headlines like “Magneto: From Nazi Collaborator to The Quiet Council”, “Decimation Wasn’t Enough: How You Can Continue Wanda Maximoff’s Legacy” and “The Genoshan Genocide: Mutant on Mutant Violence”. Whatever he could say about Krakoa, it had certainly given the anti-mutant groups a new sense of urgency. The next page made him pause.

It was an ad that was vague about their intentions, just mentioning some conference on “safeguarding the human race”, but something struck him about the logo, which he had seen only once before: on the card left in his doorway. The only thing other identifying mark on the ad was the name of the group, listed in fine print near the bottom: Orchis. This inspired Strange to pause his reading, maybe pull out his aging laptop for some internet searches, but as he set the magazine down he saw something else that grabbed his attention. By chance the page of the magazine he left facing up was a profile belonging to Ilyana Rasputin, better known as Magik. They’d met before, but now seeing her photo triggered something inside his mind, it dredged up the prophecy he saw in the war, it made him relive those visions, and it explained a part of him. Now it was clear as day to him, he had seen Ilyana in the vision, she was at the center of it all. Outwardly he remained calm, standing, staring at the wall for minutes on end. Inside, all he did was go over the words of the prophecy again and again, repeating the poem in his head:

“You Strange shall know earth's next sorcerer supreme
None born human shall hold the title again
All you know will be like water turned to steam

Make straight their path, depart and find peace at the end of mankind's reign
What more light, what glory shall be left for your eyes to ascertain

Mankind draws near finality and sorrow
Both you and they shall live without tomorrow”

ᵀʰᵉ Last Avatar & ᵀʰᵉ Red Lotus.

___________________________________.......

Ba Sing Se University · Late Afternoon · [&.Exit]Ba Sing Se University · Late Afternoon · @Exit _ Zhen was in a classroom in one of the old buildings of Ba Sing Se University, holding a question and answer session for one of her seminars. Natural light was pouring in through the massive windows, built in an era before electric lamps, and she was seated at one end of the table, while the nine students who had bothered to show up were at the other end. Most professors liked to have their assistants handle these sessions, but in the times when Zhen’s busy schedule allowed she preferred to run them. She had expected attendance to be sparse, on a holiday such as this only the most dedicated or the most desperate bothered to come. The first question was asked by Siku, who was not very bright but tried hard. He seemed genuinely worried about the low marks he got, perhaps unaware of how the university could “adjust” the grades of students who came from families as wealthy as his. Zhen never interfered with this, but liked to make her initial grades honest, giving them a glimpse of the truth. He asked “Could you explain Emotivism? You said something about it when covering ethical philosophy but I didn’t understand.” She smiled, then said. “Of course. Emotivism is the school of thought that ethical statements have no true or false value, no logical content, and the only thing they convey is the speaker’s own emotions regarding something. This takes some unpacking. Let’s take given an example of a statement with a clear truth-value: I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings. Obviously, that’s false. How do you know it is false?” Siku said “Well, uhhh, duh I can just look at you. You aren’t any of that. Did I need philosophy for that?” Then Huanyan spoke up. She was one of the most dedicated students, earning excellent marks and showing the type of enthusiasm Zhen liked to see. Perhaps Zhen could persuade her to join her handpicked seminar on Bender Spirituality next semester. Huanyan said “A better way of stating it would be that we can falsify it using empirical evidence, it contradicts our sensory experiences." Zhen said “Correct. Now, two more example statements, one of which is has truth-value, the other doesn’t: Chu Hua Yuan is a good stickball player, Chu Hua Yuan is good. Can you identify the one with a truth-value?” Several of them spoke at the same time “The first one” “Correct, the description ‘good stickball player’ is something that we can ground in other concepts, it relates to the game of stickball, and we can link it to physical characteristics such as her stamina, the accuracy of her shots, etcetera. But once we remove the second part and reduce it from ‘good stickball player’ to merely ‘good’, we are adrift. Without the ability to tie it to reality, the only thing we can glean from it is that the speaker has positive emotions attached to Chu Hua Yuan, it’s semantically identical to shouting ‘Chu Hua Yuan! Chu Hua Yuan!’ like a rabid fan in the stadium crowd. The problem is that all ethical statements are like the second type. Stating ‘killing is wrong’ or ‘making people happy is good’ is the same as our example from earlier, devoid of any content except for emotions. Even if we try to ground them by saying something like ‘Killing makes people feel bad’, we have merely sidestepped the problem, that is a practical statement, but we would still need to eventually make an ethical statement, such as ‘making people feel bad is bad’.” As she was speaking her last words there was a pink flash outside the window, and everyone stared to see what happened. A beam of light had shot up into to the sky, disappearing after a few seconds. Then the window rattled from a pressure wave, luckily it was not enough to cause any serious damage. All of them were silent, then Huanyan started to say “I think that was by the…” As she spoke Huanyan pointed at the window and summoned a burst of air strong enough scatter all of the papers in the room. After that the room was as silent as graveyard. Then she pulled her hand away and tried to gesture that she meant no harm, but that too summon a gust of wind that blew everyone’s hair back. When she tried to speak her words produced smaller blasts of air, like a light breeze, but enough for everyone to feel. Huanyan started shaking, trembling, fearful of what was happening, trying to avoid any large motions. There was no mistaking it, Huanyan was airbending. Zhen felt the power too but retained her composure, like the tightly wound spring of a mechanical watch. All of the students let out a scream in unison but then Zhen spoke with a commanding tone. “Quiet. There is no reason for anyone to panic, including Huanyan. I will find her the assistance she needs. Everyone else is to remain here, and call the proper authorities if anything else comes up while I am away.” They did as they were told. She held Huanyan’s hand tight in her grip, pulling her along down the hallway. The trail of papers blown by gusts of wind followed them as they went, heads turned, and people screamed. Bending was happening elsewhere in the building, Zhen was sure of it, but she had to deal with the problem closest to her first. Eventually they made it to Zhen’s office, Huanyan shaking so much that she merely slumped down after the door closed. She looked around the spacious room, seeing the well organized shelves stocked with books, the awards on the shelf, and the array of photos displayed above her desk. There were many of them, every one related to some occasion where Zhen’s work with the Doing What We Can foundation brought her into the spotlight. So many of them were of Zhen smiling, reacting with awe as she accepted a donation from one the most illustrious families of Ba Sing Se. The Sorans, the Varricks, the Satos, the Moons, all of them had contributed, as though they had turned a charitable venture into a way of one-upping the rest of the elite, but among all of the photos one was front and center: the time that King Wu had made Zhen among the fortunate few to receive the Order of Republic Excellence during the New Year Honors. Huanyan sat there in the center of the floor as Zhen rushed about the room. Zhen was closing the blinds, dragging a large trunk out of the closet, checking that it was empty, a lot of actions that didn’t make sense to Huanyan, but she was tired and scared, not asking any questions as she saw that her breath was still causing a small breeze that rattled the papers. Zhen stopped her work and crouched down beside her, making strange hand motions that Huanyan didn’t recognize. She asked Zhen “What are you doing?”. Zhen said “An act of mercy” Huanyan said “What? I don’t understand. Is there something I should be doing?” her voice growing weak as she spoke. Zhen said “No. Nothing at all. Just sleep. There’s nothing you need to do anymore, nowhere you need to be, nothing you need to be. It’s coming on now, best thing is to embrace it, join in the emptiness. No use in fighting because there’s nothing after this.” Zhen could see the air current’s swirl around Huanyan’s face, forcing her lungs full of pure nitrogen, her eyes closed slowly and her muscles relaxed, dropping her to the floor as she fell into a painless and final sleep. Zhen was by her side, holding her hand the whole time. When she felt the pulse stop she cracked a small smile before she began to compose a message for the corpse disposal division.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Doctor Strange

Name. Stephen Vincent Strange, MD, PhD

Alias. Dr. Strange
Age. 55
Place of Birth. Philadelphia, USA

Powers.
Dr. Strange has a vast and versatile array of spells and mystical abilities, augmented by his arsenal of magical artifacts. They range from the stereotypical options such as flight, energy blasts, shields, teleportation, and astral projection, to more esoteric charms and curses. All magic must be powered by something, and some of Strange’s most potent spells draw from entities that can demand a heavy toll on the user if abused. Strange is also still a human, with all of the weaknesses that entails, and invoking magic frequently requires him to be able to make certain gestures or utter certain phrases. Aside from his magical skill, Stephen also has great medical knowledge and a mind for thinking of creative strategies on the fly, and is an expert martial artist.

History.

Stephen Strange drove himself to become the world’s greatest neurosurgeon due to guilt from his sister’s death. A car accident damaged his nerves and forced him to abandon his surgical career, he searched for a cure and after many failures he came to Kamar Taj, where he studied under The Ancient One. He quickly became a Master of the Mystical Arts and claimed the title of Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme, defending the planet from magical threats. Over the years he’s met other sorcerers, fought invasions from other realms, joined superhero teams, had over a dozen people/otherworldly entities add him to their “mortal enemies” list, been involved in a complicated romance with a sorceress from the Dark Dimension named Clea that still isn’t resolved because neither is sure how to properly handle divorce procedures for a magical soul bond, gained new powers, lost new powers, made some questionable fashion choices and helped save the world a couple of times.

The most recent disruption to Strange’s life came unexpectedly. The Sorcerer Supreme’s role had been quiet lately, Baron Mordo was dead (for the time being), Dormammu was losing a Dark Dimension civil war badly enough that he had no time to mess with Earth, the Fear Lords had some kind of falling out and were fighting amongst themselves, and Shuma-Gorath was doing whatever he does when he’s not actively trying to devour everything. All was well, until the Vishanti called him for a great mystical war, the War of the Seven Spheres. He tried to resist but was pulled in anyway, into a dimension where time did not flow as it did in mortal realms. The war lasted millennia, scarring Strange’s psyche from the extreme length and constant fighting, but when he returned to Earth only four months had passed, and his body was none the worse for the wear. In his absence, Wong had assumed the role of Sorcerer Supreme and done an admirable job of defending the realm. Now Strange is adrift, searching for what to do and dealing with the lingering effects of the epic conflict, trying to find a role for himself in a rapidly changing world.

Story Arcs.

Nunc Dimittis
During the war Strange saw a vision about who the next Sorcerer Supreme would be. He hasn’t fully decoded it or unraveled the other meanings hidden within, but he knows that it could have grave implications for the future. He’ll try to find this next holder of the title, but what will be left for him after this, and what else will he uncover on his quest?

Dormammu I’ve Come to Bargain (for real this time)
Strange attempts to negotiate a lasting peace treaty between Earth and the Dark Dimension. That’s going to be a challenge, and one that he would prefer not to take up alone. He’s going to have to sit down with some of his bitterest and most duplicitous foes, and also his ex-wife. People say it’s impossible, but Strange is no stranger to doing the impossible.

Sage

Name. Tessa
Alias. Sage
Age. 34
Place of Birth. Former Yugoslavia

Powers.

Machine Brain: Sage’s mind is not a literal computer, but is closer may be closer to one than any other organic brain on earth. It has granted her extremely fast processing speed, excellent multitasking and photographic memory. She has used this to develop a great deal of physical and mental skills, especially those related to espionage.

Telepathy: Sage is a skilled telepath. Her greatest ability is her extremely strong psychic defense, manifesting as a powerful firewall that can reflect psychic attacks back at less adept opponents.

Genetic Sight: Sage can get some insight into people’s genetics and potential by close contact. In the past, she has even been able to “jumpstart” dormant mutations in other mutants, though in most cases nothing happens.

History.
Tessa’s history with X-men started when she was just eighteen and met Professor Xavier in the mountains of Afghanistan. She was the first to find him after his legs had been crushed by a boulder, and he noticed her mental talents. He began to train her when the X-men were only a vague idea in his mind; and he found a place she could use her talents: espionage. Tessa became Xavier’s mole inside the Hellfire Club, rising to be a trusted advisor to their leader, Sebastian Shaw. She worked with Shaw and Emma Frost to outwit the telepathic billionaire Elias Bogan in a high stakes game of chance, forming a lasting grudge. Years later, Bogan would exact his revenge by kidnapping and torturing her, until she was rescued by Storm.

From then on, Tessa joined up with Storm and adopted the name Sage, becoming part of the team Storm assembled to search for a set of prophetic diaries left behind by the precognitive mutant Destiny. Her time with Storm’s steam saw encounters with foes such as the international terrorist Viper, the mutant hunting cyborg known as The Fury, and another showdown with Elias Bogan.

After M-Day, Sage moved to England and joined Excalibur. This diversion turned into a dimension hopping excursion with the Exiles, leading to a lot of experiences Sage is still processing. At various points she peered into the blackbox of a Celestial, visited a world where humans were wiped out by robots, had an interdimensional guardian dump a heap of cosmic knowledge into her head, and helped the team battle no less than ten evil alternate reality version of Xavier.

After all of the multiversal travel, Sage returned to Earth and laid low for a while, working in the background until recent events. With the establishment of Krakoa, Sage has become a key part of the island’s operations. She helps to manage the island’s gateway network, and is one of the members of X-Force, Krakoa’s department in charge of clandestine operations.

Story Arcs.

Cobwebs in the Attic
Tessa's mind has taken a lot of unresolved damage. She's done her best to patch over it, but incidents like the time The Fury hijacked her mind and turned her against her teammates or the massive information dump from Roma have created corners that even her machine brain doesn't dare examine. What is buried can never stay that way, and if it resurfaces at the wrong time it could potentially turn a key piece of Krakoa's security into an internal threat

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

World's okayest telepath

Name. Tessa
Alias. Sage
Age. 34
Place of Birth. Former Yugoslavia

Powers.

Machine Brain: Sage’s mind is not a literal computer, but is closer may be closer to one than any other organic brain on earth. It has granted her extremely fast processing speed, excellent multitasking and photographic memory. She has used this to develop a great deal of physical and mental skills, especially those related to espionage.

Telepathy: Sage is a skilled telepath. Her greatest ability is her extremely strong psychic defense, manifesting as a powerful firewall that can reflect psychic attacks back at less adept opponents.

Genetic Sight: Sage can get some insight into people’s genetics and potential by close contact. In the past, she has even been able to “jumpstart” dormant mutations in other mutants, though in most cases nothing happens.

History.
Tessa’s history with X-men started when she was just eighteen and met Professor Xavier in the mountains of Afghanistan. She was the first to find him after his legs had been crushed by a boulder, and he noticed her mental talents. He began to train her when the X-men were only a vague idea in his mind; and he found a place she could use her talents: espionage. Tessa became Xavier’s mole inside the Hellfire Club, rising to be a trusted advisor to their leader, Sebastian Shaw. She worked with Shaw and Emma Frost to outwit the telepathic billionaire Elias Bogan in a high stakes game of chance, forming a lasting grudge. Years later, Bogan would exact his revenge by kidnapping and torturing her, until she was rescued by Storm.

From then on, Tessa joined up with Storm and adopted the name Sage, becoming part of the team Storm assembled to search for a set of prophetic diaries left behind by the precognitive mutant Destiny. Her time with Storm’s steam saw encounters with foes such as the international terrorist Viper, the mutant hunting cyborg known as The Fury, and another showdown with Elias Bogan.

After M-Day, Sage moved to England and joined Excalibur. This diversion turned into a dimension hopping excursion with the Exiles, leading to a lot of experiences Sage is still processing. At various points she peered into the blackbox of a Celestial, visited a world where humans were wiped out by robots, had an interdimensional guardian dump a heap of cosmic knowledge into her head, and helped the team battle no less than ten evil alternate reality version of Xavier.

After all of the multiversal travel, Sage returned to Earth and laid low for a while, working in the background until recent events. With the establishment of Krakoa, Sage has become a key part of the island’s operations. She helps to manage the island’s gateway network, and is one of the members of X-Force, Krakoa’s department in charge of clandestine operations.

Story Arcs.

Cobwebs in the Attic
Tessa's mind has taken a lot of unresolved damage. She's done her best to patch over it, but incidents like the time The Fury hijacked her mind and turned her against her teammates or the massive information dump from Roma have created corners that even her machine brain doesn't dare examine. What is buried can never stay that way, and if it resurfaces at the wrong time it could potentially turn a key piece of Krakoa's security into an internal threat

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

The Doctor is in

Name. Stephen Strange, MD, PhD

Alias. Dr. Strange
Age. 55
Place of Birth. Philadelphia, USA

Powers.
Dr. Strange has a vast and versatile array of spells and mystical abilities, augmented by his arsenal of magical artifacts. They range from the stereotypical options such as flight, energy blasts, shields, teleportation, and astral projection, to more esoteric charms and curses. All magic must be powered by something, and some of Strange’s most potent spells draw from entities that can demand a heavy toll on the user if abused. Strange is also still a human, with all of the weaknesses that entails, and invoking magic frequently requires him to be able to make certain gestures or utter certain phrases. Aside from his magical skill, Stephen also has great medical knowledge and a mind for thinking of creative strategies on the fly, and is an expert martial artist.

History.

Stephen Strange drove himself to become the world’s greatest neurosurgeon due to guilt from his sister’s death. A car accident damaged his nerves and forced him to abandon his surgical career, he searched for a cure and after many failures he came to Kamar Taj, where he studied under The Ancient One. He quickly became a Master of the Mystical Arts and claimed the title of Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme, defending the planet from magical threats. Over the years he’s met other sorcerers, fought invasions from other realms, joined superhero teams, had over a dozen people/otherworldly entities add him to their “mortal enemies” list, been involved in a complicated romance with a sorceress from the Dark Dimension named Clea that still isn’t resolved because neither is sure how to properly handle divorce procedures for a magical soul bond, gained new powers, lost new powers, made some questionable fashion choices and helped save the world a couple of times.

The most recent disruption to Strange’s life came unexpectedly. The Sorcerer Supreme’s role had been quiet lately, Baron Mordo was dead (for the time being), Dormammu was losing a Dark Dimension civil war badly enough that he had no time to mess with Earth, the Fear Lords had some kind of falling out and were fighting amongst themselves, and Shuma-Gorath was doing whatever he does when he’s not actively trying to devour everything. All was well, until the Vishanti called him for a great mystical war, the War of the Seven Spheres. He tried to resist but was pulled in anyway, into a dimension where time did not flow as it did in mortal realms. The war lasted millennia, scarring Strange’s psyche from the extreme length and constant fighting, but when he returned to Earth only four months had passed, and his body was none the worse for the wear. In his absence, Wong had assumed the role of Sorcerer Supreme and done an admirable job of defending the realm. Now Strange is adrift, searching for what to do and dealing with the lingering effects of the epic conflict, trying to find a role for himself in a rapidly changing world.

Story Arcs.

Nunc Dimittis
During the war Strange saw a vision about who the next Sorcerer Supreme would be. He hasn’t fully decoded it or unraveled the other meanings hidden within, but he knows that it could have grave implications for the future. He’ll try to find this next holder of the title, but what will be left for him after this, and what else will he uncover on his quest?

Dormammu I’ve Come to Bargain (for real this time)
Strange attempts to negotiate a lasting peace treaty between Earth and the Dark Dimension. That’s going to be a challenge, and one that he would prefer not to take up alone. He’s going to have to sit down with some of his bitterest and most duplicitous foes, and also his ex-wife. People say it’s impossible, but Strange is no stranger to doing the impossible.

ᵗʰᵉ Last Avatar.

<Snipped quote>

Wait, wait, wait, I've seen this one!

*Pulls off Yukiko's mask*

If you get it, you get it XD

Also we now have every element in contest... *nervous sweating intensifies*

@KillamriX88

Yup, Armstrong is definitely one of the influences on her character, along with some others (disclaimer: I don't particularly like any of these thinkers I just used them as idea fodder).

ᵗʰᵉ Last Avatar.

I was busy but I snuck it in before the deadline. I had trouble picking an element but I ended up choosing the one that I felt had the most contrast with her (initial) personality, and so would lead to opportunities for drama and character growth. Hope I didn't cause trouble for anyone.

Yukiko

Name. Yukiko
Age. 25
Gender. Female
Element. Air

Residence. Lower Ring
Occupation. Day Laborer

Who are you?
Yukiko has a lot to say and not much of it is subtle or gentle. She will tell whoever wants to listen about her politics (an incoherent ideology dubbed Anarchro-Kuvirism), what people should be striving for (physical strength, inner toughness, self-reliance), if violence is an acceptable way to solve problems (almost always), what's wrong with technology (it makes people weak and passive), and what's wrong with modern society (same). If she has the chance she’ll talk about her theory that all of this will inevitably lead to either a long slide into oblivion as humans lose the ability to desire or accomplish anything unaided and no longer are worthy of being called human, or result in a massive and sudden outburst of violence that overturns everything. You can guess which one she wants.

Though her thoughts are always restless, Yukiko's life is simple and dominated by repetitive cycles. She lives in a flop house in the lower ring that's built like a shoddy imitation of the capsule hotels found inside the inner rings; its minor miracle the place hasn't collapsed yet. All of her belongings fit into two large dufflebags, the only ones that would have any resale value are her phone and the old conventional pistol she keeps stashed away for self-defense. When there's jobs that pay well, or when rent is creeping up, she puts in long hours doing whatever needs doing around one of the endless construction sites in the lower ring. She doesn't have the skill for fine work, but she's strong and has the stamina to keep going, and that is enough. Nothing is ever finished being built, especially when so many are lost to poor construction or the RSF clearing out "unauthorized" buildings. When she has the time she trains martial arts with a crew of local toughs, they all get along well even if they have trouble finding a consistent gym. Whether she is working or training, she keeps at it until the sheer exhaustion stops her, going to be drenched in sweat every night, and relaxing by reading whatever bootleg literature is circulating around or listening to radio broadcasts full of anger and conspiracy theories. That's most of what there is to her routine, she doesn't venture far from her neighborhood, after her last stint in jail the RSF gave her an exhaustive list of conditions specifying everything from what areas she can travel through to the hours she has to stay off the streets. The RSF might be understaffed in the lower ring but she would prefer not to play the odds by getting lost in an unfamiliar part of town and having a pack of them corner her.

For all of Yukiko's bluster and confidence, there are many things she prefers not to discuss. If someone prods her she'll tell them that she grew up in Jiulong, a neighborhood in the lower ring that used to be where descendants of war refugees lived before a bit of "urban renewal" came to it. Sometimes she'll mention that she hasn't seen her family in a while or that she has a criminal record; those are other things that she doesn't want to dig into. What Yukiko buries deepest, underneath the anger, the striving for power, the judgment and the proud exterior is fear, the ever encroaching feeling that the world is ruled by uncaring, irresistible forces that will grind her into dust the same way they have countless others.

What is your opinion on Benders?

In Yukiko’s mind, there were great benders in the past, people who shaped history; yet when the world saw their power they choose the wrong response. They treated as if they were gods or saviors; that is the road to stagnation, passivity, and slow decay. Instead of being inspired to emulate them, to sharpen oneself in hopes of being able to challenge them, they chose the path of awe and blind obedience. Non-benders lived in a sleepwalking state, going through the motions of life while trusting that the benders would tell them what to do, what to think, and take care of all the difficult problems in life. The Benders themselves grew self-assured, forgetting their own struggle and getting distracted by philosophical navel-gazing and robotic repetitions of the same motions. The panic was the result of weak minds, people so terrified of self-reliance and self-discovery that they would burn the world down in search of the Avatar before they would be willing to stand on their own two feet.

As benders have disappeared, humanity has come to rely on an even more pernicious evil: high technology. Technology has supplanted benders because it has been better at coddling humankind, everyday these artificial gods are entrusted with more and more of the responsibilities of the human race. Although Yukiko hates the new order, she does not long for a return to the old one either, she dreams of something better: a time when every person, bender or non-bender can realize their own potential and fight their own battles instead of outsourcing them to someone or something they see as above them. Yukiko is uninterested in the teachings of the benders, their spirituality, their ways of training, but she does see value in learning from the biographical details of them. If someone succeeded in carving their name into history, their life is worthy of study and emulation, regardless of if they were a Bender or not.

Extra. Nothing at the moment

NPC:

Ah Jong

Name: Ah Jong
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Residence: Lower Ring
Occupation: Labor Representative (officially) Low-level triad leader (unofficially)
Ah Jong the guy you see in the neighborhood if you need to get something done. His biggest business is making sure construction work goes smoothly, and he has the right combination of friendships, bribes, and people willing to throw down in a street fight to make that happen. Yukiko connected with him during her stint in prison. On paper he’s an Earth Kingdom restorationist like the rest of his gang, but really he just cares about making money off his construction and Pai Sho rackets. Although she dislikes his politics, Yukiko admits he’s easy to talk to and a man of his word. He helps her find work, and she’s happy to do odd jobs for him, over the years they’ve developed a sort of brother and sister relationship