Magnus listened to the evolution of Jax. "In some ways you're lucky, at least all of your happened basically at once. Others think they are finally getting a grip on it after a few years only to get another power manifest and start all over while keeping the first power in check. So are your eyes hard or soft? we need t know if we need to get some goggles to keep them safe or not,"
He's just about to lead Jax on when the infant and the ogre pass by. The smallest being rather perturbed for no good reason with an apologetic thug in tow.
"That was Babyface, his teen-mom manifested super-genius so he did too. He was born able to use all his mind with some telekinesis, his body is still catching up to his brain so he has the hoverchair and a voicebox. One of the best gags around here is to screw with the settings on it to make him talk in brazilian or a chipmunk, one kid got it to do all showtunes for a week. The big guy is bassalisk , things he stares at start to turn to stone for a while before turning back."
"The x-men are... well yeah vigilante is pretty accurate. we do what the law cant on behalf of the good side. Xavier thinks we can all live in peace beside each other. My grandfather thinks mutants should rule the world and the humans be made secondary citizens. More mutants are born every day, in a couple decades they will be a recognizable percent of the world population and then global politics will come into play rather than each country handling it themselves. My vote is all mutants to Latveria."
Now that they had the kitchen all to themselves, magnus split up the Sushi between the two of them so that was three plates worth for each. It was always odd the way rooms would swarm and vacate between the blink of an eye. Just the mercurial nature of children, he supposed.
"My thanks, I was prepping the food when you arrived. I've always had a thing for Asia from food to culture, so thats my official study as a student here is language and cultures of other countries via an Anthropology Major. Any ideas what sort of schooling you want to study?"
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Most Recent Posts
Birth Name:
Иванович полнолуниеСтраж
Ivanovich PolnoluniyeStrazh
Ivan Moonguard
Assigned Name:
Ian Mogul (a steam locomotive having a two-wheeled front truck, six driving wheels, and no rear truck.)
Age:
35
Attached Photo:
Psychological Profile:
Untrusting product of the system. Orphaned at childhood left him overly cautious yet has strong underpinnings to a need for family that sit in conflict with each other. A lifetime of stealing to survive has left a kleptomaniac like compulsion to pocket whatever he can get away with whenever possible. He has an innate connection to dogs and seems to have an empathy with canines that borders on psychic but has no measurable effect aside from making him an excellent trainer. Everyone has their vices and where most Russians find comfort in drink, he stays warm in another's arms. He looks like an obsessive eater, but this is a physiological condition, not a psychological one.
Medical History:
Ivan is a carrier of the Lycanthrope genetic condition as inherited from both of his positive parents. When he was 6 he received a load of silver buckshot soaked in wolvesbane. This would kill any natural werewolf in a transformed state or cure an infected werewolf, but as he had not had his first change, it prevented him from ever having his first change. Just before joining the PCMC, the rounds were removed from his body in combat and after joining the PCMC a bio-regulator was installed to allow him a controlled way to increase or decrease his conditional features. At his own request, a kill-switch was installed in case he should ever loose control or be used against his fellow soldiers
The bio regulator comes in two parts and designs, When walking around the facility he wears what resembles an insulin pump that feeds diluted wolvesbane essence through his system. 24 hours before a mission he removes the pump so his body can metabolize the 'tea' and he can access his transformation. In several locations inside his body, there are small pacemaker sized devices that each draw or dive a silver needle into him to control the ratio of change his body is allowed.
As for his condition, there is a reason the PCMC uses enhancements and cybernetics, its to level the playing field against the supernatural. In 'stage one' he is in the same physique as everyone else, 200 lbs man able to lift twice his body weight before injury. He is able to see well in low light environments due to an increased rod cell count in the eyes at about 300 million where the average human has 125 million but trades off in seeing in pastels rather than full color or monochrome. He can hear from 10 Hz up to forty kHz, twice higher than a human but less than a dog. The number of olfactory receptor cells in his nose are around 50 million, not the 4 billion in a bloodhound but compared to just 5 million in a human.
When he engages in 'stage two', it is not his muscle mass that increases, but rather the neural inhibitor threshold of the body to prevent injury is lowered so he can do more with what he has. This effectively increases his strength limits to 800 lbs. before the instinct to halt engages, this phenomenon is similar to what is called the 'orderly toss' of 90 lbs. psychiatric patients who go super calm as they heave three hundred pound men one armed with ease or rip bars out of windows. It is to note that this is not with the effects of adrenaline which let him lift a semi truck the same way a human mother can lift a car to save her child.
At 'stage three' he actually changes in shape as his body takes on a cancerous condition, the mitosis rate of his body reaches an exceptional level of renewal. This is where the mythos of regeneration comes into play where a werewolf is downed but comes back up seconds later. This allows Ivan to heal from wounds in hours what should take days but not the mythic level of shaking off machine gun fire with a sneeze. Part of the rapid natural process also increases his metabolic rate by the same level, he keeps spare food in the same pockets as ammo clips in order to feed his bodies needs for protein to make up for the lost resources, this is also where werewolves develop the 'bloodthirsty animal' myth as they are seen eating other animals raw just to keep from starving during this raised metabolic rate.
Stages four and five have not been authorized yet.
Technical Proficiency:
He is skilled in the self defense of sambo for the last twelve years, he is an olympic class archer with his 'slingbow', but his true skill is tracking. He has been forced into this role to survive for years as a need before it ever became and option to want to.He could track both in the wilderness as well as the city with effort, but now that his lupine heritage is enhancing his trained skills, he has become the personal bloodhound of the PCMC
History With the PCMC:
His latest six year of life were spent under the scalpel and surgical lights, doing every damn test they could think of under every condition. At first nothing more than a test subject slated for experimentation and dismissal for better werewolf hunting techniques. Fearing for his own life, he staged an accident by opening several oxygen tanks before an operation. When he saved the head scientist from a lab explosion with his own body, they now owed Ivan their life. They angled the experiments to see if he could become a weapon for the PCMC rather than just target practice. It was here that he gained his regulator. His first mission was Chernobyl zombies, a necromancer had decided to raise the dead and shuffle them into major cites dressed as homeless on every street corner to quietly kill everyone with radiation poisoning then raise the new dead and keep spreading. He was not the meatshield they were expecting him to be, he was a hum-v not a tank, positioning himself for each strike before moving again. Since then he has proven himself loyal to his new pack and doesn't see that changing anytime soon.
Prior History:
Up until the age of six, all he knew of his family was that they raised raised dogs, from dogfighting to award winning purebreeds and all things in between. There was to be a week long family reunion outside of Moscow for the three days of the full moon as well as the two days before and after. This moot was meant to introduce him to the ways of being a werewolf through oral history with song, dance and demonstration. Many children changed during this time that were exceptional or alpha material, except for Ivan, this just meant he was a late bloomer. But the PCMC interrupted the Moot on the fourth day when the moon was fullest with a storm of silver anti-tank Sabot rounds and a sweeper team armed with silver dipped buckshot soaked in wolves-bane, enough to kill a true werewolf in full form or cure an infected, but he was neither. He took a blast to the back and was left for dead versus the greater threats.
He crawled away and made his way to the city where he fell in with other orphans. From six to twelve he ran with a street gang that replaced his family and instilled the hording nature as a survival mechanism. The gangs favored tactic was to all rush into a store and grab as much as they can before mobbing out the back or side door. Sadly when a russian store owner pays protection money, they expect to be protected. The gang ran across the Russian mob and was torn apart as party favors to all the other soldiers. He was given to a man named Hunter.
He spent his fist week in total isolation of a ten by ten room with nothing but oatmeal and water poured down a pipe to a bucket. One day he awoke in some steam tunnels with a buck knife in his hand. He wandered the tunnels for hours before a dart landed in his shoulder, this dulled his senses and reaction when Hunter came to beat Ivan around until he blacked out.
He awoke in the same room as before with wounds tended, days passed with oatmeal or water from a pipe into a bucket as his wounds healed until one day he awoke in the middle of a forest with all bandages removed and "run" written in the snow. So he ran. He ran until his lungs burned and he found a dart in his neck before Hunter returned to beat him into unconsciousness. Days turned to weeks of isolation, each interrupted with a new terrain to be hunted in. Sometimes he hid, sometimes he fought back, sometimes he ran. Each time it took a little longer to be caught with the dart and every so often he found something new in his room as he recovered from sweets to books to keep him sane. The longest he ever lasted was three weeks in the middle of red square with full police assistance to keep him safe, that is until the officer watching him removed a prosthetic nose while popping the dart into Ivan's foot.
Eventually after must have been a few years of this, Ivan awoke in the steam tunnels with that damned dart gun in his hand for once and a soft sobbing of a child. He easily followed the sound to a small boy just on the end of innocence with a knife in hand. He shot the boy as he had been shot but could not bring himself to the beatings he had suffered. Time and again he found the boy, Ivan used the knowledge of every trick he had used himself against Hunter to be the child's undoing. He was the prey but now the predator, without the streak of the monster above him to blind him he could see the truth of the hunt and hone in his skills in ways that seemed supernatural. For years more he chased the child but never tormented the boy across every terrain he himself had been cursed with until one day it was over and he was brought before the one who first put him in Hunter's hands.
At eighteen he was officially put into the Russian mob as a bounty hunter who doesn't murder, he will kill those who try to kill him but he wont shoot the woman and child who saw him pass by chasing a target. In this time he discovered his favorite weapon is the bow for its silence and lack of scent over the noise and stink of guns. In his last mission after six loyal years for the Bratva, he was hunting a woman through a hospital when she passed through the radiology department. The MRI she cranked to high gear not only broke his wrist with his own iron Rolex but also tore the buckshot from his body. His body changed on its own for the first time in an effort to save himself from the traumatic damage and without the silver to inhibit him like it had for the last two decades. While he survived, he didn't have twenty years of adjusting to such a change and still blacked out on the imaging floor, It was a miracle of happenstance that the PCMC were sweeping the hospital for vampires when they came upon him as an unlikely bonus.
Иванович полнолуниеСтраж
Ivanovich PolnoluniyeStrazh
Ivan Moonguard
Assigned Name:
Ian Mogul (a steam locomotive having a two-wheeled front truck, six driving wheels, and no rear truck.)
Age:
35
Attached Photo:
Psychological Profile:
Untrusting product of the system. Orphaned at childhood left him overly cautious yet has strong underpinnings to a need for family that sit in conflict with each other. A lifetime of stealing to survive has left a kleptomaniac like compulsion to pocket whatever he can get away with whenever possible. He has an innate connection to dogs and seems to have an empathy with canines that borders on psychic but has no measurable effect aside from making him an excellent trainer. Everyone has their vices and where most Russians find comfort in drink, he stays warm in another's arms. He looks like an obsessive eater, but this is a physiological condition, not a psychological one.
Medical History:
Ivan is a carrier of the Lycanthrope genetic condition as inherited from both of his positive parents. When he was 6 he received a load of silver buckshot soaked in wolvesbane. This would kill any natural werewolf in a transformed state or cure an infected werewolf, but as he had not had his first change, it prevented him from ever having his first change. Just before joining the PCMC, the rounds were removed from his body in combat and after joining the PCMC a bio-regulator was installed to allow him a controlled way to increase or decrease his conditional features. At his own request, a kill-switch was installed in case he should ever loose control or be used against his fellow soldiers
The bio regulator comes in two parts and designs, When walking around the facility he wears what resembles an insulin pump that feeds diluted wolvesbane essence through his system. 24 hours before a mission he removes the pump so his body can metabolize the 'tea' and he can access his transformation. In several locations inside his body, there are small pacemaker sized devices that each draw or dive a silver needle into him to control the ratio of change his body is allowed.
As for his condition, there is a reason the PCMC uses enhancements and cybernetics, its to level the playing field against the supernatural. In 'stage one' he is in the same physique as everyone else, 200 lbs man able to lift twice his body weight before injury. He is able to see well in low light environments due to an increased rod cell count in the eyes at about 300 million where the average human has 125 million but trades off in seeing in pastels rather than full color or monochrome. He can hear from 10 Hz up to forty kHz, twice higher than a human but less than a dog. The number of olfactory receptor cells in his nose are around 50 million, not the 4 billion in a bloodhound but compared to just 5 million in a human.
When he engages in 'stage two', it is not his muscle mass that increases, but rather the neural inhibitor threshold of the body to prevent injury is lowered so he can do more with what he has. This effectively increases his strength limits to 800 lbs. before the instinct to halt engages, this phenomenon is similar to what is called the 'orderly toss' of 90 lbs. psychiatric patients who go super calm as they heave three hundred pound men one armed with ease or rip bars out of windows. It is to note that this is not with the effects of adrenaline which let him lift a semi truck the same way a human mother can lift a car to save her child.
At 'stage three' he actually changes in shape as his body takes on a cancerous condition, the mitosis rate of his body reaches an exceptional level of renewal. This is where the mythos of regeneration comes into play where a werewolf is downed but comes back up seconds later. This allows Ivan to heal from wounds in hours what should take days but not the mythic level of shaking off machine gun fire with a sneeze. Part of the rapid natural process also increases his metabolic rate by the same level, he keeps spare food in the same pockets as ammo clips in order to feed his bodies needs for protein to make up for the lost resources, this is also where werewolves develop the 'bloodthirsty animal' myth as they are seen eating other animals raw just to keep from starving during this raised metabolic rate.
Stages four and five have not been authorized yet.
Technical Proficiency:
He is skilled in the self defense of sambo for the last twelve years, he is an olympic class archer with his 'slingbow', but his true skill is tracking. He has been forced into this role to survive for years as a need before it ever became and option to want to.He could track both in the wilderness as well as the city with effort, but now that his lupine heritage is enhancing his trained skills, he has become the personal bloodhound of the PCMC
History With the PCMC:
His latest six year of life were spent under the scalpel and surgical lights, doing every damn test they could think of under every condition. At first nothing more than a test subject slated for experimentation and dismissal for better werewolf hunting techniques. Fearing for his own life, he staged an accident by opening several oxygen tanks before an operation. When he saved the head scientist from a lab explosion with his own body, they now owed Ivan their life. They angled the experiments to see if he could become a weapon for the PCMC rather than just target practice. It was here that he gained his regulator. His first mission was Chernobyl zombies, a necromancer had decided to raise the dead and shuffle them into major cites dressed as homeless on every street corner to quietly kill everyone with radiation poisoning then raise the new dead and keep spreading. He was not the meatshield they were expecting him to be, he was a hum-v not a tank, positioning himself for each strike before moving again. Since then he has proven himself loyal to his new pack and doesn't see that changing anytime soon.
Prior History:
Up until the age of six, all he knew of his family was that they raised raised dogs, from dogfighting to award winning purebreeds and all things in between. There was to be a week long family reunion outside of Moscow for the three days of the full moon as well as the two days before and after. This moot was meant to introduce him to the ways of being a werewolf through oral history with song, dance and demonstration. Many children changed during this time that were exceptional or alpha material, except for Ivan, this just meant he was a late bloomer. But the PCMC interrupted the Moot on the fourth day when the moon was fullest with a storm of silver anti-tank Sabot rounds and a sweeper team armed with silver dipped buckshot soaked in wolves-bane, enough to kill a true werewolf in full form or cure an infected, but he was neither. He took a blast to the back and was left for dead versus the greater threats.
He crawled away and made his way to the city where he fell in with other orphans. From six to twelve he ran with a street gang that replaced his family and instilled the hording nature as a survival mechanism. The gangs favored tactic was to all rush into a store and grab as much as they can before mobbing out the back or side door. Sadly when a russian store owner pays protection money, they expect to be protected. The gang ran across the Russian mob and was torn apart as party favors to all the other soldiers. He was given to a man named Hunter.
He spent his fist week in total isolation of a ten by ten room with nothing but oatmeal and water poured down a pipe to a bucket. One day he awoke in some steam tunnels with a buck knife in his hand. He wandered the tunnels for hours before a dart landed in his shoulder, this dulled his senses and reaction when Hunter came to beat Ivan around until he blacked out.
He awoke in the same room as before with wounds tended, days passed with oatmeal or water from a pipe into a bucket as his wounds healed until one day he awoke in the middle of a forest with all bandages removed and "run" written in the snow. So he ran. He ran until his lungs burned and he found a dart in his neck before Hunter returned to beat him into unconsciousness. Days turned to weeks of isolation, each interrupted with a new terrain to be hunted in. Sometimes he hid, sometimes he fought back, sometimes he ran. Each time it took a little longer to be caught with the dart and every so often he found something new in his room as he recovered from sweets to books to keep him sane. The longest he ever lasted was three weeks in the middle of red square with full police assistance to keep him safe, that is until the officer watching him removed a prosthetic nose while popping the dart into Ivan's foot.
Eventually after must have been a few years of this, Ivan awoke in the steam tunnels with that damned dart gun in his hand for once and a soft sobbing of a child. He easily followed the sound to a small boy just on the end of innocence with a knife in hand. He shot the boy as he had been shot but could not bring himself to the beatings he had suffered. Time and again he found the boy, Ivan used the knowledge of every trick he had used himself against Hunter to be the child's undoing. He was the prey but now the predator, without the streak of the monster above him to blind him he could see the truth of the hunt and hone in his skills in ways that seemed supernatural. For years more he chased the child but never tormented the boy across every terrain he himself had been cursed with until one day it was over and he was brought before the one who first put him in Hunter's hands.
At eighteen he was officially put into the Russian mob as a bounty hunter who doesn't murder, he will kill those who try to kill him but he wont shoot the woman and child who saw him pass by chasing a target. In this time he discovered his favorite weapon is the bow for its silence and lack of scent over the noise and stink of guns. In his last mission after six loyal years for the Bratva, he was hunting a woman through a hospital when she passed through the radiology department. The MRI she cranked to high gear not only broke his wrist with his own iron Rolex but also tore the buckshot from his body. His body changed on its own for the first time in an effort to save himself from the traumatic damage and without the silver to inhibit him like it had for the last two decades. While he survived, he didn't have twenty years of adjusting to such a change and still blacked out on the imaging floor, It was a miracle of happenstance that the PCMC were sweeping the hospital for vampires when they came upon him as an unlikely bonus.
Name: Johan Crossbow "Yo-han Kras-bo"
Age: 8
Sex: Boy
Occupation: Scribe, ex-noble, Priest in training
Sword: Kashoku
Personality: Quite the willful little bastard, former nobility started by crafting the weapon of war lowered to priestly deeds has left a chip on his shoulder the size of a pagoda and he is more than eager to let people know it. He's been chosen by God to help win this war, who the hell is anyone else to say otherwise?
Background: Fourth-born son of a dutch lord, his family instills him into the church to secure prestige and a seat in heaven for having a bishop as a son since they already have an heir and two spares. He spends his time in the church until called to accompany a priest traveling to the land of japan to test the word of God against the demons. The day that they arrive in port there is a great storm and Johan is blown into the bay where he sees a shimmering golden sword by bolts of lightning. Now the priest follows Johan around as an aide since he has clearly been chosen by god to help save these heathens from the demons.
Skills: Read and write in both japanese as well as latin, paint
Equipment: Clothes to help him blend in as much as his white skin makes him stand out. two weeks worth of food and fresh water, Bible, writing and art supplies.
"Don't worry, you will get turned around anyways, everyone does. Its a dormitory college for people from thirteen to thirty. So you've been on a bad streak for six weeks, did you mutate two months ago or longer?"
Locking the door on the inside, he pulled it closed with a click as his silk sighed while he lead the way. It felt good to have the familiar weight on his thigh, a security to not rely on just his powers to protect him. Jax alone proved that eternal vigilance was the only save answer, just like in his home realm where the mutants were hunted down like dogs.
"The one most likely to detect you was the professor, and clearly he did. He may have disabled the defenses or set them to your signature, but setting the alarms without informing the rest of us seems risky. There are others, sure, but most often they don't need the schooling like most here if being aware of other mutants is your only power. I've heard it described as having that sixth sense, they have an aura, or there is a persistent sensation in their presence."
Back down the dorms hall, he made the same lack of noise with rote muscle movements as he almost loped to the main hall and turned again now away from either hall before. Passing the library, one of the many the classrooms, and following the familiar path to the kitchen. he stopped and pulled Jax to the side as some kids came flying down the hall, literally.
"Adding to the confusion of this place, every room but dorms has two entrances to prevent anyone from ever getting trapped. The library has top line computers, no macs or apples, each one is made here using their own software thought up by the residential geniuses but lots of folk here have a thing for the feel of a real book in hand. Classes are handled on a loose merit system with each class meeting about once a week to discuss things before being given the next week sets of assignments. You are never hard to find study groups here. If you have heard of the x-men already on the news or what not, any student team member has to keep a 4.0 in order to be a candidate for the missions, just like sports in regular high school."
Finally they arrived in the kitchen, he looked around for a mental roll call to give the proper introductions. Thankfully most of the sushi was still there to be enjoyed as he served up a plate of a dozen pieces to offer the bugboy. He served up a plate for himself with ginger and wasabi to begin eating as he talked.
"Kitchen is 24 hours, food is color coded for vegetarian, vegan, kosher and halal. Eavery single thing in the kitchen is to be washed before and after each use to prevent allergic reactions. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at noon, afternoon snack at 4 and dinner at 8. Otherwise its open grazing as long as you clean your mess as you go."
"Everyone. This is Jax, new face. Jax, this is...""
Locking the door on the inside, he pulled it closed with a click as his silk sighed while he lead the way. It felt good to have the familiar weight on his thigh, a security to not rely on just his powers to protect him. Jax alone proved that eternal vigilance was the only save answer, just like in his home realm where the mutants were hunted down like dogs.
"The one most likely to detect you was the professor, and clearly he did. He may have disabled the defenses or set them to your signature, but setting the alarms without informing the rest of us seems risky. There are others, sure, but most often they don't need the schooling like most here if being aware of other mutants is your only power. I've heard it described as having that sixth sense, they have an aura, or there is a persistent sensation in their presence."
Back down the dorms hall, he made the same lack of noise with rote muscle movements as he almost loped to the main hall and turned again now away from either hall before. Passing the library, one of the many the classrooms, and following the familiar path to the kitchen. he stopped and pulled Jax to the side as some kids came flying down the hall, literally.
"Adding to the confusion of this place, every room but dorms has two entrances to prevent anyone from ever getting trapped. The library has top line computers, no macs or apples, each one is made here using their own software thought up by the residential geniuses but lots of folk here have a thing for the feel of a real book in hand. Classes are handled on a loose merit system with each class meeting about once a week to discuss things before being given the next week sets of assignments. You are never hard to find study groups here. If you have heard of the x-men already on the news or what not, any student team member has to keep a 4.0 in order to be a candidate for the missions, just like sports in regular high school."
Finally they arrived in the kitchen, he looked around for a mental roll call to give the proper introductions. Thankfully most of the sushi was still there to be enjoyed as he served up a plate of a dozen pieces to offer the bugboy. He served up a plate for himself with ginger and wasabi to begin eating as he talked.
"Kitchen is 24 hours, food is color coded for vegetarian, vegan, kosher and halal. Eavery single thing in the kitchen is to be washed before and after each use to prevent allergic reactions. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at noon, afternoon snack at 4 and dinner at 8. Otherwise its open grazing as long as you clean your mess as you go."
"Everyone. This is Jax, new face. Jax, this is...""
MistressCyanide said
^ I can't see it and now since I can't see it I want to see it, you dig.
http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/14600000/Avalanche-marvel-comics-14636210-225-470.jpg
MistressCyanide said I am so hyped I want to yell the word hype on top of a mountain which will start a you know what covering everything in snow and ice.
Posted for Magnus.
Zagan said
"Name is Smith, Jax Smith. Nice to meet you Magnus. Thank you - that is....understandable, but before this; I would appreciate some food, I would just like a bed, room mate or not, Is there a gym or something in this place? Holding tank? I can tell you my powers - I am very strong, I can fly and my eyes allow me to see in a sort of slow motion."
Magnus helped him to his feet, clearly feeling the strength the other possessed, he'd make a good front line fighter, flight also makes him a good scout. "You like sushi? I made some before you got the welcoming committee, if we are lucky there might be some left. I'll spare you my shortcut so i can show you around." Truth be told, the fight he walked in on made him realize how unequipped he was by leaving his gear down below to get scanned, he would feel better stopping by his room to grab a bag.
"First thing first, you are in the womens dormitories, that is one reason you made such a stir, second, the one with brown hair smelled someone new but the alarms didn't go off for an intruder, so she probably thought you had disabled the alarms and snuck in like an assassin or something. She's a bit tight wound, military brat doing push-ups at five instead of playing with dolls and the like."
He lead the new guy down the hallway of he ladies dorms to the descending staircase that showed the main foyer then up the opposing stairs to the mens dorms. Even in a relaxed walk, Magnus made hardly as sound as he moved, each foot raised and lowered on the caret without shuffle as his arms swung just away from his body so that his fabric didn't rustle. His tail swung in time with his walking to ease the weight being distributed.
"Each dorm as two floors, bottom floor of one bed rooms and top floor of two beds. Single beds are given to senior students and those whose powers are deemed unfit for shared space, mostly those with energy blasts or super strength, last thing you need is a nightmare going wrong and taking out a whole wall or the ceiling above you. That is why you need to spend a day in the scanners. You may have wings and strength now, but what if we put you in a room with someone who boosts your powers and you find out you can now call bugs, we wake up to beehives, ants nests and termites all trying to get a piece of you or you grow extra arms with an exoskeleton. Don't worry, it comes with an x-box and a whole wall is one screen. One sec."
At the end of the hall was Magnus room, he disappeared in a soft *BAMF* in front of his own door, there was a click and the door swung open. The room was dark as could be with a blacked out window. If Jax's compound eyes percived the ultraviolet then a true black light would illuminate much of the standard pagan bedroom with bookcases set into the wall and no bed to be seen. Thick rolls of incense and herbs hung in the air with the taste of brimstone cutting through while trance music's drumming beat like a heart. If Magnus could be seen, he slipped out of his sweats to slip on some black silky pajamas and strap on his thigh holster with a few tools tossed inside.
"Lets go see the rest of the place, If we're lucky Leon didn't eat all the fish. Leon's a cat-guy looks like a tiger. Kitchen to grab some food then off to the tank, after your time in there I'll show you where the Gym is."
In the wolverine Xavier is back in a chair even though he would be in a new body. why is that? My other wolverine question: why do wolverines claws not leave his hands a blood-soaked mess while he cant regenerate? Bullet wounds take minutes to hours, but 6 separate 8 inch blades don't need medical attention as often as he pops and draws them back in?
Why is that? *gets popcorn and settles in for the explanation*
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