Current
I feel like, past a certain point, I should be arrested for writing character descriptions due to my unlawful use of adjectives.
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5 mos ago
If there were to be a MARVEL Pool Championship, who would be the victor: Captain America or Cyclops? 😎🎱-- Heheh, feel free to VM your answer for the fun of it.
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5 mos ago
3 hours spent incorporating about 3 edits into my story (shifted/adjusted scenes, content extended, text adjustments) - and I consider that an afternoon well spent.
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7 mos ago
Those days when you wake up and think: "That's not the accurate wording for that sound effect." Then delight in finding just the right one.
7 mos ago
Wow. The range of sound you experience when you listen to stuff through headphones! 🌌
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Bio
It all never happened ~ but in your mind! It all never happened ~ but in your mind!
Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s. Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer. Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.
'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me. 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.
The Reality Is: It's getting me through.' The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'
The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the X-Men -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them ~care to embark on the eXploration with me?
*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into FOX Movies theme🎵*
Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.
Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards.
Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.
Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now. If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.
He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.
The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.
There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.
All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's. However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.
The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.
And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time.
She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the sub-basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.
Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.
The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.
As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.
When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely survived; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.
She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise.
Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .
While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.
She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall.
If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged. Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.
Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.
And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.
Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.
She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.
Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.
At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now.
Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call.
That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation: Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.
Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.
While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect. Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.
Xavier even answered calmly. "I'm pleased to see you're still lively. In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment. As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers." He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. "He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"
Cyclops was questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, when she had initially escaped.
He didn't buy it. Something was up. Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to? Or she wasn't going there at all.
It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride?
His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.
That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire.
"What the Hell?!"
Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. 'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?' For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear.
More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. This was not good.
Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before -- He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.
His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically felt what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly. Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.
She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use.
She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.
Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. "AA-AH-AHHH!" His hands, too, clutching at his head.
Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.
He couldn't be among them -- he couldn't be. The townspeople were bold, but not that bold. If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was.
They weren't joining this fray.
One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of 'is it following me?!', perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.
This one did ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.
The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand.
The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.
The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.
It CRASHED down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one SLAMMING into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.
If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.
Cyclops had managed to stand up. This was one time he should've stayed down.
A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale CRRRKKKKHHs resounded.
The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath CUT, the pain SEARED, breathing felt perversely like the absolute WRONG thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.
But he was so in need.
He lay literally gasping for his life.
His mind clouded over....
And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.
Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.
Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.
....Jean. He'd thought of her. He'd seen her.... No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this. He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken. They filled gradually, deeply, painfully. Yet they didn't shred. Another... ...Familiar lips on his.
* * * * Three Weeks Later
"I still say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene I would've left. Only worse. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in your mind when your power was only considered too dangerous. I mean come on -Scott was nearly among those in the pile out there." concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.
Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been right there when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. "That carnage was a reactionary result," Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, "Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."
"She's been unconscious. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."
"We're not waiting, Logan."
"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."
"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed," came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, "though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."
"So far. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."
And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion. The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".
Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.
The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.
They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic.
They didn't delude themselves either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible.
A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.
In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter. And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.
He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation.
Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.
They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.
Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.
Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had.
This apparent fact pleased him all the more.
Cool. Reserved.
Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply. So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered.
Chief among it all, Jean Grey. The center of his world.
She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.
Had. Knew.
Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind, from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.
Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.
Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . . The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.
Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . . Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and that defined everything about his life going forward.
Was that why. . ?
Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . . Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .strange.
And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.
She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one.
Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. But with Jean. . . Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?
Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.
Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. . . .none of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.
What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.
They had to have been hit by something. . .
A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.
. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact encountered something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil.
So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? Planned? Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it? Was this their intended result? Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?
He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. . . .that strange sensation growing stronger.
Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office. And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood paused outside that door.
Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean. So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.
. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.
He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start over. Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. . . .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.
That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway. But there was also the matter of. . . . .
X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX X-Men franchise. Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but don't miss out!!
The flash of neon blue took all the X-Men off guard save Wolverine --who even in his throes of combative rage had sensed the arrival of the last of their party -and didn't doubt she was bringing the final firepower.
As united as they'd started, the X-Men ceased as one -sinew and muscle twitching in Wolverine's case, though he was able to hold himself back from sashimi-ing the rest of "Becker".
Paused adrenaline gave way to a varying stunned feeling as they all heard Umbra's declaration.
If a thought was shared among the X-Men in that moment, it would've been: 'Still [alive] after all that?!'
Wolverine popped his claws again, throwing one arm back in prep for another strike
"Wait! The physical form's been taken care of," Cyclops spoke with a perspicacious sense, "now it's a mental fight." And honestly, this rose in Scott a sense of disturbance rather than ease. A mental fight was one he couldn't participate in by his own will. His mentor, his father figure, and Ryder, a kid whose whole life was built around extricating herself from this, a kid who for all her independence Cyclops still counted as in his charge, were now staring this down on their own.
Cyclops breathed in a steadying way, while the X-Men collectively kept at the ready in case this fight wasn't over for them.
Xavier had taken the opening within the fight to exact some existence onto Umbra -- realizing the assault the entity was taking from the experience of pain, Xavier took control of the cerebral scenescape to depict something like an eventide sky, with scenes of emotions and sensations, both random to this situation and specific, streaming past like clouds in a time-lapse video - a disorienting blur of humanity; an awesome weight of feelings.
There was a time in the X-Men's history when the binding of an entity with one of their own, overwhelmed by human sensation, had lead to dark things. . .Though Xavier felt this case would be different. It wouldn't be fuel.
He felt the pressing weight of Ryder just ahead of her appearance. An ounce of his thought flickered to the reality of that weight. An ounce of his heart to the hope that things might've felt more. . .level between them in this moment. But there hadn't been enough time for that.
Understanding on her appearance that his X-Men's efforts had safeguarded Ryder against certain oblivion here, Xavier eased back on his influence. As much as he'd wanted to snuff out Umbra's flame - or would that be, ignite Umbra, to obliterate their darkness with light? - This was Ryder's conclusion to reach. As he had realized Umbra was not life, Xavier also realized ending them would not take anymore from Ryder.
In a now starless night of astral space, at once an apparent closeness and expanse of nothingness that was pure, Xavier looked to Ryder. He did not give a nod, as this was not a situation for him to permit. Though he kept his eyes steadily on her; his body turned exactly towards the mid-point of where Ryder and Umbra were.
Xavier now standing authentically in Ryder's corner. He would interject himself again only as needed.
Keyrs smiled in a self-satisfied way before getting into the car and situating herself both comfortably and safely - seatbelt on. Though, she did casually keep her hand near the seatbelt disconnect mechanism should she need to make a quick escape.
And that was feeling all the more prudent as the leader looked at her while carrying on his phone conversation. I mean whatever operation ruinings this Artemis fellow caused couldn't possibly have an impact on her present arrangement, but one could never be entirely sure. They could need to make some rapid change of plans of which she couldn't be privy and be about to boot her from the car themselves.
As it turned out, they were roping her in tighter.
Colour Keyrs intrigued.
"I prefer to keep my hands clean, but that's what the tech is for," Keyrs responded, having the impulse to lace her fingers together and stretch them out/crack her knuckles in a forward motion, though she and the Delgatos were still only on "just met" terms and she didn't think being free with sudden hand movements was quite the thing to do yet. "Any preference on which?" she asked on the "get them out or silence them" bit, her disposition indeed conveying interest -and ease.
Getting them out sounded most appealing to her, a trickier puzzle -Keyrs wagered- than merely scrapping them. But if the leader preferred the other route, well, they were "do-badders", weren't they? Getting them off the streets permanently wouldn't register on her conscious.
Even if it did. . .her methods would be on the merciful side of the scale, simply because she was efficient like that. Leaving people to suffer? How uncouth.
While the Delgatos considered her offer, Keyrs made another mental note regarding her tech: Consider remote-controlled wrist-- mental impulse controlled wrist discs. Perhaps she should have been thinking what she would do if this all went sideways.
Thankfully, it didn't.
At the leader's response of the boss being in the market for someone who "knows their way around tech", Keyrs flashed a smile that quite plainly said: 'well I'm that someone!'
A second mental sigh was breathed -or maybe not quite so mental- at the relent on the shopkeeper. He'd been the reason Keyrs did this ploy in the first place. A partially awkward partially reassuring grin was flashed his way, and Keyrs was just on the cusp of pushing her luck with a request when the Delgato leader motioned for her to head out. His accompanying "we'll drive you" was the final quash to her impulse. Third mental sigh, this one not of relief but disappointment. I guess no solar crisps and soda for me. Unless they have a vending machine at their haunt.
"Excellent," Keyrs responded, while she proceeded out at a gradual pace. Very gradually loosening her folded arms to lower them to her sides. "I knew Anthony was no slouch in the brains department."
There were at least two ways Keyrs stunt could go, and it went the bad way (besides getting two people safely out of the store - a positive accident).
She was wearing her helmet, though it was designed with blunt force trauma in mind -like a bike helmet- not ballistic. Keyrs made a mental note to add that -at least as a custom option. Really why had it taken until this moment for her to think of that? Second mental note: definitely add it to her chest plate prototype (not currently being worn), and possibly-definitely to her boots.
"Maybe it does. And maybe how it concerns me could concern you. It must be rather the inconvenience to have to tread to umpteen shops every week. I'm a technologist. I could design an automated something, like a drone, to do the collections for you. Equipped with weaponry of course. Imagine what strides you could make in your business with all that time freed up? I mean, still making house calls in 2060?" Her mouth turned up on one side in a derisive smile.
Though knowing what she wanted, Keyrs walked casually through the aisles, interested to browse the different items and see if anything new was on display. She noticed the other shoppers, the young couple sparking Keyrs' imagination some -she liked to wonder about the people she observed- while the teens sparked more of her interest.
Her schooling experience had been different from the norm -she'd gone digital- and academy life was like an interesting genre of media to her. Real academy life more so than actual media depictions of such, which tended to get boring past a certain point in your life -or certain stage in your mental development, said things not always coinciding.
She turned when motion caught her eye and sported a little smile in response to the familiar, friendly cashier, whom she was about to answer when she was rudely interrupted by a ne'er-do-well and his cronies conducting their illicit business -in broad daylight while the store had something of a crowd. For real: think of the children.
Though it was probably nothing they hadn't seen before in this city. Some of the appeal of skipping school, perhaps.
For Keyrs part, she folded her arms, waiting for the "transaction" to be over as though it were really no more than another check-out at the till. Or so it seemed. Keyrs could look unoccupied in form while she was quite the opposite in mind.
She'd considered getting in the extortion game. Though she didn't enjoy shaking down little old ladies and kindly older gentleman.
Okay- she didn't actually know how old the store keeper was, but older than herself, surely!
Stealthily, while her hand was still beneath her opposite elbow, Keyrs extended it that little bit to expose her wrist disc shooter, and with a generally miss-able clenching of her fist, discharged one of her hard light discs towards a shelf after casting it a sidelong glance in way of aiming-
-and apparently a glance wasn't enough. The absence of an impact sound, followed by a sliding one, told her she'd misjudged her angle and instead sent the disc off somewhere ultimately across the floor.
Anyone's attention it may've attracted would find -almost as soon as they clapped eyes on it- the tangible object dissipating into actual light, as untouchable and ephemeral as a rainbow.
At least there was that, as Keyrs hoped her ensuing frown could be mistaken for 'what the heck was that?' instead of 'I really should upgrade my targeting system to not require me to look', when she realized it wouldn't be at all suspicious to turn towards a sound. In fact it would be more so not to, so she did, and in looking like she was trying to find out what just happened, she was in fact getting a better look at the shelf she wanted to destroy enact a strategy on.
In the same moment as she reverted her attention to the front, she made that clenching fist motion again and this time succeeded in breaking a support bracket, causing one shelf to tip, spilling its contents (while the hard light disc that did it ricocheted away fast as -well, light, to the same dissipating result of the first try).
"Looks like you're doing a fine business, boys," Keyrs spoke up semi-casually to the Delgatos. "The man clearly isn't stashing away enough to put back into his."
It was an impulse. Maybe it was stupidity. But Keyrs sensed -whether wrong or right- a possible escalation from routine extortion to "that last cut seemed short. Sure you're not cheatin' us?", and she'd be darned if she wasn't going to stand on the side of her favourite chip and soda repository.
If Xavier had ever pushed his Astral self into a blackhole he doubted he would feel in a place more desolate. He doubted he would feel more desolate, as he understood with every cerebral connection of his being that this was no place.
It was a concept equally as intangible. The type of thing that if you input it into a computer the machine would crash for being unable to process it --for understanding it was being asked to process something where something didn't exist. A question without a thought.
But the truth of this non-reality didn't enclose him in as tight a vice grip as the silent scream which responded to him. More specifically the concepts it introduced.
Ryder existed to become Umbra's. She was a shell.
Reveals that obfuscated instead of illuminated.
Except on one point that set there in Xavier's mind like something in the sharpest relief and flashing neon.
This. . .Umbra wanted Ryder not as some weapon as herself, but as a vessel to subsume. What felt, to Xavier, as the ultimate destruction of Ryder's self. Nearly the difference between taking someone's life and removing their existence, except she would still exist in the places she impacted; in the minds who knew her.
Like Xavier's. If Umbra "thought" or "felt" or whatever Umbra was capable, that these formless words would work to deter the flesh and blood form that was Astrally present before them, they only served to cause Xavier to double down.
Umbra had called him "warmth". Xavier couldn't have felt colder towards any"thing" else.
It was at once not like him and yet, logical. Xavier was a proponent of life. Umbra was something decidedly removed.
Umbra was something that had to be removed. Ryder's earlier message about Umbra being conveyed to Xavier through Umbra "themself".
However, ahead of Xavier even being able to formulate a thought on how to exact his own power over his adversary,
one of his X-Men was exacting theirs without need for such a thought.
If there was any light down here it would've glinted tellingly off the adamantium claws that presently thrust towards Becker's body. An animalistic yell having been held in until the exact second its sound would no longer serve as an alert:
"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
It echoed like a rally cry and served as a compass point to the others -- if they hadn't seen Becker's form already, they certainly knew where to look now.
At once they sprang into concerted action -- literally in the case of The Beast, who came at their foe with unpredictable acrobatics and the second sharpest claws on the X-Men's roster.
Having decided a disorienting assault would be smarter than an easy to anticipate strike from one direction -at least as the opening- Cyclops sent several optic blasts in rapid succession ricocheting off separate points of the walls like some laser light show, augmenting Beast's errant movements with the plan Umbra wouldn't know where to look or from what angle a shot was actually coming -and trig-wiz that Cyke was, they were all coming.
He wasn't concerned about Wolverine winding up taking most of the blasts instead--if he was still that much on "Becker" when all the blasts where through colliding, serious damage will already have been inflicted; Wolverine had his healing factor to keep this move from being a sacrifice.
Beast though bounced back out of the fray with all the skill of an agile spy avoiding a laser field.
While Cyclops set up to let loose with that dialed-up, direct shot once he had a clear one- --clenching his jaw as Ryder's words -heard between the ricochets and now- laid heavy in his mind. Was her initial read on how to handle this in error? Did Cyclops make the wrong call? They were too close to hesitate now, and so...
...Storm all the while was living up to her name as a literal thunderstorm raged -- the crash of thunder intensified in the enclosed space. Lightning striking the floor where rainwater now pooled only beneath Becker's feet. . . .
Wolverine's too, but again, the healing factor, plus adamantium made a pretty good conductor --nothing like a sextet of lightning claws.
Location: Keyrs' Apartment - Border of Halcyon Heights and Mapleview | Morning
Keyrs scoffed as the newscaster on the radio equated "beautiful Summer morning" with "85 degrees". Of course they did. Most people did. Weather forecasts were such weatherists. 29 degrees -as it would be listed in her home country of Canada- in the morning was hardly cause for a smile. What was it going to climb to during the peak hours of noon-to-four? 29 was already about 5-6 degrees higher than Keyrs' preferred maximum.
Chance of showers sounded nice. At least that was reported neutrally.
In any case, she had a cooling system in her gear. A true "must have" -not a feature she even thought to offer optionally. She wasn't going to be one of those cash-sucker-sellers who required you to pay extra for features that honestly existed in the category of "needed for well-being".
The following crime report included mention of a body washing up on the shores of Halcyon Beach. Was nothing sacred anymore?! Not that crime anywhere was unusual, as evidenced by how that particular crime tidbit was reported with no more alarm than the rest, but still. A location named after symbols of peace and calm set certain expectations in one's mind. It was all just false advertising at this point.
From her balcony, where she was sitting working on modifications to her helmet, Keyrs looked up.
The apartment she called home was situated on the border between the aforementioned neighbourhood, and the poorest. Her balcony was positioned such that she could look left and see Halcyon Heights to the North, or look right and see Mapleview to the south -or, as the locations existed in her mind: the neighbourhood she deserved to be living in, and the neighbourhood nobody did.
Following moments of compassionate reflection and self-centered brooding, Keyrs reverted attention to her work. The laser sights/guns she was working to install on the bases of her antennae feeling all the more prudent.
But, something wasn't quite meshing. She set down her tools a moment later, pausing with another moment's consideration of the situation. "This calls for Solar Crisps," she declared in a matter-of-fact way to herself, shifting from her slouched, foot-against-the-railing position into one conducive to standing up. "Maybe some Five-St*rr Crush, too."
Keyrs bent over to pack her tools back into their kit with one hand while keeping her helmet on her lab with the other. Shutting the case, she then placed the helmet on her head before grabbing the former object and heading back inside.
She shut the screen and interior door behind her, engaging the lock mechanism of each in turn and closing the blind, set the tool case where it was meant to go, and after changing to casual "going out" clothes from her casual "staying in" clothes -and doing a few other pre-going out routine things- locked behind her the third door of the day -her front. After first unlocking it to get out of course. One could not live in this city without keeping the doors to their domiciles thoroughly locked at all times.
Extra thorough in Keyrs' case, and not by way of 4 different bolt locks plus a chain, though she had those too -analog was an essential backup should power outages by way of overtaxing the grid or EMPs occur- but by way of her own specialized security system which definitely was not for sale. As soon as you sell your technology that's when it can be co-opted; corrupted; exploited. Even sooner than that, really, but Keyrs had responses to hackers, too.
In any case, now on the other side of the door, Keyrs inserted a credit card-shaped USB into a camouflaged port, rapped three of her fingers on the drive's touchscreen in a certain way, then removed it and snapped the drive into a section at the inner-wrist of her glove.
That all done, she proceeded down the stairs -much more agreeable than the elevator- and once out on the street, placed her specialty-gloved hands into her pockets and started to walk to a convenience store in Riverside.
Detritus was visible on the streets on the regular which tended to prompt Keyrs to think of Riverside as What's-In-Your-Riverside, but oh well. It wasn't a bad walk, all things considered
"There are those who operate by established norms. Those who don't understand those norms. And those who realize the norms are stupid and think beyond them accordingly."
P O W E R S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Astute Mental Capabilities-
A B I L I T I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Upgradeable Helmet currently equipped with various scanning technology (vitals; radio waves; infrared; X-Ray etc.)
â—¼ Hard-Light Wrist Discs (projectiles from Gloves)
Keyrs was a promising new hire at Veridian Technologies until she made the error of jotting down ideas for her personal side project -a customizable, Ã la carte, multi-purpose suit that, yes, could be used for self-defense- which was blown out of proportion as mistaken for an agenda to dial Veridian Technologies back to its weapons manufacturing days via a coup against Maria Smith. Unable to articulate herself adequately to correct the egregious misunderstanding, Keyrs was unsurprisingly -or surprisingly, depending whom you ask- "asked to leave". Or so that's her side of the story.
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
Spurred on by her injustice at the collective hands of Veridian Technologies, Keyrs has become a lone wolf plotting to demonstrate the genius of the mind they -and dare she claim, the world!- left behind by utilizing her own technology and other abilities to do whatever is necessary to make the world conform to her ideals into the better place it absolutely has the potential to be.
Hopefully my Paint program mock-up is an acceptable portrait - I just wanted a (rough) visual for the gear I mention she has. : ) If anything or section needs clarification / expansion I'll be on again later!
KEYRS FRONFORD KEYRS FRONFORD
~!~TRONICAL~!~ ~!~TRONICAL~!~
"There are those who operate by established norms. Those who don't understand those norms. And those who realize the norms are stupid and think beyond them accordingly."
P O W E R S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Astute Mental Capabilities-
A B I L I T I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Upgradeable Helmet currently equipped with various scanning technology (vitals; radio waves; infrared; X-Ray etc.)
â—¼ Hard-Light Wrist Discs (projectiles from Gloves)
Keyrs was a promising new hire at Veridian Technologies until she made the error of jotting down ideas for her personal side project -a customizable, Ã la carte, multi-purpose suit that, yes, could be used for self-defense- which was blown out of proportion as mistaken for an agenda to dial Veridian Technologies back to its weapons manufacturing days via a coup against Maria Smith. Unable to articulate herself adequately to correct the egregious misunderstanding, Keyrs was unsurprisingly -or surprisingly, depending whom you ask- "asked to leave". Or so that's her side of the story.
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
Spurred on by her injustice at the collective hands of Veridian Technologies, Keyrs has become a lone wolf plotting to demonstrate the genius of the mind they -and dare she claim, the world!- left behind by utilizing her own technology and other abilities to do whatever is necessary to make the world conform to her ideals into the better place it absolutely has the potential to be.
In response, Cyclops merely turns and exits; not seeming put-out so much as trying to figure something out.
Colossus comes up to the others: "What happened?"
Shadowcat: "Cyclops set his phaser to kill instead of stun."
Iceman: "What was that thing, anyway?"
Shadowcat: "A dragon. Since this was my first sim as a graduate, Storm agreed to input something I suggested. I didn't know how she'd work it in." She adds to Colossus, "I was starting to think you'd find it like the minotaur in a labyrinth."
We re-join the X-Men's focused leader as he steps into the Control Room.
"Full replay with advanced data overlay, please."
Storm keys that in.
Cyclops steps more directly in front of the screens to watch. . .
. . .as we transition to another screen entirely.
Anchorwoman: "-serious water damage at an apartment complex has been confirmed to have been caused by an elderly mutant tenant. Given their landlady's statement of a rent increase enacted at the top of the month, an increase to which the mutant tenant tried to contest, this incident is being viewed as an attempt to avoid paying by claiming an uninhabitable environment."
The broadcast is shut off, and we see it was being viewed in Xavier's class,whom the Professor now addresses: "The news conveys the circumstance quite differently than what we know to be fact: an elderly mutant who experienced incontinence of their mutation before apparently losing the ability to access their power altogether."
One student raises their hand before asking: "Does this imply mutations break down with age, like the rest of a body?"
Xavier: "At this point I'm not sure." He smiles. "I haven't yet reached the age to know."
Giving a moment for his humour, Xavier then continues: "Though I do know how powerful a mind can be. It is possible this mutant subconsciously cut himself off from his power following the negative impact it caused to his life and others. Or that the stress of the event caused a suppression similar to how stress often activates the X-gene. However that would be a first, as far as I know."
We pan to another classroom.
Jean Grey: "For as much as we know about living with mutations, there's that much that we don't. For example, two individuals who may generally be classed as having the same can display that mutation quite differently."
Student: "Like how you and Professor X could both be classed as psychic, but only you have telekinesis."
"Right." She smiles, turning a phrase: "If you've met one psychic mutant, you've met one psychic mutant."
Jean resumes addressing the class as a whole: "There are also those mutations which could be classed differently yet are found to share properties. Such as Cyclops and Havok's. It's worth posing the question if we would observe this in all families with more than one mutant. At this point we don't have enough data to arrive at an educated answer, though our work today may bring us closer.
You'll find on your screens a series of sequenced X-Genomes. You'll also find they aren't labeled. I'd like to see if you can identify which belong to related mutants."
And while Summer classes are underway for those remaining at X-Mansion, others are using the holidays to visit family, including one of two such relatedmutants, presently downstate in an apartment in New York City. . .
Jacilon Chreyz: "Sorry, Holo. Looks like I've gotta' go into work today."
"Could I come?"
"Sure! The place is for youth, anyway."
Cut-To the sisters riding the bus.
With a couple blocks to go, Holo notices something out the window when the bus comes to a stop. She leans towards her sister, saying in a voice only loud enough for Jacilon to hear:
"The community garden's really sprung up."
Jacilon responds in kind: "A mother and son just moved here. He has quite the green thumb, just like you have a vivid imagination." She winks.
Getting it, Holo smiles.
On arriving at the Empowered Youth Center, Holo pauses instead of following her sister towards the door.
"Could I go check out the garden instead?"
Jacilon pauses to consider that a moment. "Sure. The boy will probably be out there soon, too. His name's Eeco."
So Holo backtracks the bus's route on foot. . . . . .and roughly ten minutes later comes up on the community garden.
Sure enough, a boy maybe her age looks to have just arrived himself;setting a pack down as he begins looking over the plants before he looks up instead, noticing her.
Holo offers a friendly smile. "Hi."
The boy seems unsure. "Hello."
"I'm Holo. I think you and your Mom know my sister, Jacilon?She works at the youth centre down that way," Holo extends her arm the way she came.
Eeco brightens in recognition. "Yeah."
"She told me you have a special way with the plants. Can you talk to them?" So he'll feel comfortable talking openly, Holo follows her question with a projected imagining of Eeco in obvious -though soundless- conversation with a Venus fly trap.
The real Eeco's expression turns from fascinated, to amused, to a kindred grin.He launches into an answer: "We don't talk, but I know what they need. More like I'm a scientist who does the analysis in my body when I touch them. Like, see-" He kneels down by one of the planters, "-this one needed better soil, and a different plant beside it than was here before." Eeco gently fingers the leaves, a studious look on his face a moment before he smiles with the affirmation "-it's feeling much healthier now."
Holo has joined him in kneeling by the planter. "Cool! Have you heard of the Three Sisters?"
Not long into their conversation, a woman who had been passing by pauses, staring at them.
Once again, Eeco notices, speaking to their frown in a shy but friendly way: "Would you like to take something? It's free and healthy."
"If you paid me I wouldn't eat that mutated food. I'll get the city to set you straight if you don't stop it." With a final scoff she goes on her way, muttering: "think they can convert us. Filthy muties."
The kids are crestfallen, though not for long as Holo speaks up; firmly if not privately: "I don't know what she can do, but I know she's making a mistake. This all looks way tastier than what's in the store."
"It is. What would you like to try?"
. . .and as a new friendship comes together, we head back to the X-Mansion where a temporary parting is taking place. . .
X-Mansion foyer
Bobby: "Enjoy your trip."
Rogue: "Take lots of pictures."
Kitty: "Thanks! I'll take a bunch for sure. I just hope I won't wind up wishing I'd stayed here."
Ororo smiles with pride: "Do not give us a second thought. This Summer is for your parents and their new graduate."
Kitty smiles back, then turns to Colossus who seems to be serving as her chauffer to the train station. Not expecting him to take her bag, Kitty thanks him as they head out together; a final wave cast towards her mutant family.
Bobby turns to Rogue and Ororo: "Either of you up for some basketball?"
Ororo: "Another time. My plants need my attention at present."
Rogue: "Ah'm game. Just gimme' a minute."
"Alright. I'll meet you on the court."
. . .but first we must meet back up with Cyclops, who finishes a basic, solo Danger session. . .
Shortly thereafter he goes to speak to Hank in the Lab, Cyclops still in his uniform though now with his glasses on; his visor handed over: "My optic power has changed. The data readout from the team session confirmed what I felt during it -a fluctuation. I'll be monitoring it, though for now it seems stabilized at the higher end."
"Hence your needing a change to your visors' parameters. So how much higher are we talking?"
"100%."
Hank is all interest: "I'll get on it directly."
"Thanks."
X-Mansion Grounds - Basketball Court
While waiting for Rogue, Bobby can be seen practicing against a defense of ice sculptures made in the likeness of familiar people.
While they don't provide much in way of competition, they do provide Bobby with bodies to weave around --plus a little extra challenge from the slippery puddles brought on by the Summer sun.
A figure steps up to the court; not Rogue. Though it is another youth looking to be about her and Bobby's age. This youth proceeds to watch this strange game for the few moments it takes for Bobby to sink another basket.
"You want an opponent who isn't so 'cool' and collected?"
Bobby turns around, surprised. "Sure." He passes the stranger the ball.
Catching it, the other youth turns his attention back to the ice sculptures, pointing to one: "This one's on my team."
Bobby grins.
They start their game.
Bobby: "So are you gonna' be enrolling or do you know someone here?"
The other youth bounces the ball off his "teammate", just to see what would happen. "I'm a couple years past graduating," he corrects the age assumption before answering: "I know someone who knows someone here. Or ones-- shoot."
Having just stolen the ball from him, Bobby gives a nod, but is now more focused on the game than on getting to know this guy. He tries to make a shot but the other guy blocks it with a laugh; in triumph, not mockery.
He then takes a shot but misses, and as Bobby gets the ball back he takes another himself --this time avoiding the other guy's block by shooting an ice slide underneath the ball, twisting it right into the net.
The other youth stares. "That has got to be a traveling foul!"
Bobby grins: "Let's see what you can do! Powers Ball is more fun."
"I'm cool to see more of yours, but who says I've got any?"
They fight for the ball.
"Sorry -I just assumed."
He smiles. "Well you're right. But who says I need them?" He'd lost the ball, yet just manages to hit it right out of Bobby's next ice slide.
Though Bobby is the one who recovers it: "Guess we'll see!"
--or not.
Suddenly a wayward white-hot blast obliterates the once-more airborne ball --nearly missing the other youth on his way to intercept it while instantly reducing the ice players to steaming, fast-shrinking mounds.
Rogue has arrived just time to witness this, and as one she and the boys look in the direction the blast came; finding trouble.
Bobby moves quickly on another ice slide --shooting his own blasts of ice to cool down shattered trees and sections of lawn set ablaze.
Alex Summers A.K.A. Havok: "Sorry, guys! That went out more intense than I expected; got a little away from me."
Bobby (coming to a stop nearby): "I'd call that more than a little."
Other Youth: "Yeah, great goin', man. You've becoming a real ace in the environmental destruction department." His tones speaks of an easy kind of relationship between himself and Alex, something nearing pals yet still more on the side of mentee/mentor.
Alex gives him a measured look: "I could leave you here."
Without missing a beat, the other youth shifts his attention to Rogue: "That couldn't be all bad. Hey, my name's Colbur."
Rogue gives something between a laugh and a scoff at his forwardness: "Ah'm Rogue. And ah saw you've been gettin' to know my boyfriend, Bobby."
Colbur raises a brow at the boyfriend part, interested though unconcerned,and reverts attention to the boy in question: "Somehow I wouldn't have taken you for a 'Bobby', if I had to guess."
"Well, you can call me 'Iceman.'"
Colbur (like he finds that silly): "Then I'm 'Rockman'."
Bobby looks like he's still deciding on his impression of this guy. "Well for someone who calls themself that, your game wasn't all that solid."
Colbur playfully recoils: "Ooo- freezer burn!"
However this conversation might play out, it's interrupted by another voice as Scott, now back in civilian clothes -different ones than we saw him in earlier- comes onto the scene; Alex's wayward blast having apparently caught the attention of more than just those who were outside: "Lex -what's going on?"
Alex spreads his arms in a frustrated shrug: "I need a new model of this thing or something!" He refers to the suit he wears -only the torse portion exposed- which appears at once similar to the X-Men's uniforms and unique; made of lighter material and containing on the chest three containment rings of descending size inside of each other, with a small point of connection between each.
"Actually I think it's messing me up like how they say wearing glasses makes your eyes worse over time -the times I lose control have gotten more frequent and every blast this thing absorbs now nearly fills it to capacity -I've had to make controlled blasts the past while just to make sure this thing can keep absorbing the uncontrolled ones, and then I can't even seem to modulate those the same."
Scott regards him thoughtfully before turning back towards the Mansion."Come on. We're going to the Danger Room."
Chaffing a bit at the older-brotherly insistence, Alex doesn't move: "Why? I've emptied it -I won't be a danger to my surroundings for a while -I just wanna' go see Hank."
Scott pauses. "Because there could be another explanation I'd like to test for and for starters, we kind of like our trees around here. And our basketball court."
Disarmed by the hint of a teasing smile on his brother's face, Alex yields; bending to pick up his discarded shirt as he follows him: "But if we're doing a sim, I set the specifics."
Cut-To close of the session; Alex joins Scott in the Control Room where the elder Summers is looking over the readout.
Jean turns when she hears the door open. She smiles. "Alex. Good to see you."
Alex gives a reciprocal nod: "Jean."
Seeing Scott looking over at the other work station, Jean provides:
"Hank is in the Ready Room with Xavier."
Scott heads there while Alex hangs back.
In the Ready Room, Hank and Xavier are working on what looks to be a new module of the console.
Xavier: "That should be the final correction."
"Then so completes 'Desktop Cerebro'; a most elegant blend of human and mutant technology. You can sojourn in peace knowing mutant activity will be detected as accurately as by yourself in Cerebro-proper."
The older man smiles: "Well I would like to think my mind still has something over machines, though this is a weight off of it-- Ah, Scott." Xavier turns at his entry. "Hank informed me of your power situation. I'm sorry to have caused a delay to your visor adjustments. I needed Hank to help with some final ones to Desktop Cerebro before tomorrow."
"It's fine." Scott shifts attention to Hank. "Actually I was coming to see you about Alex."
Xavier looks at him with interest: "I thought I sensed another Summers mind. What is the situation?"
Back to the Lab Scott returns to Alex and Jean in mid-conversation, the latter presently responding:
" ... even events considered positive can be sources."
Alex (glancing to Scott): "Like reuniting with a thought-to-be-dead brother."
Jean's look affirms as much, though she adds: "Being more than a year ago it's too long to be a delayed experience. Though it is a point of emotional change you two share, and are still adjusting to."
The brothers exchange a look; "still adjusting to" being an apt summation.
Jean adds to Scott: "I was just saying to Alex how I'd like to take fresh blood samples. I'm interested what changes might be observed from the ones I took previously."
Scott starts rolling his sleeve up higher in response.
Jean looks towards a supplies cabinet from where she takes out the necessary equipment via telekinesis. "Of course, Hank will have to field the analysis if we don't want to wait on results."
As if on cue, Hank had entered.
"A liberty I may have taken myself were it not afforded to me."
Scott explains to Alex: "Jean and the Professor will be attending the World Conference of Human Rights."
Hank: "Proclaiming the truth that 'mutant rights are human rights'."
While impressed by the endeavour, Alex remarks: "Be sure to take in the sights or something so it's not a wasted trip."
Jean acknowledges him in between setting aside one vial of Scott's blood and taking another one.
Scott: "Speaking of trips, you didn't get back to me on what you thought of the Summers Camp location last week." He curls his forearm to compress the gauze against the needle site once Jean has finished.
She moves on to drawing Alex's blood -Hank stepping back from having been making some note of Alex's suit, which we can see by the circles has absorbed another blast in the time since he came in.
Alex: "Guess I was busy."
Picking up on something in his disposition, Scott stares at his brother.
Whatever it might be goes unprobed for now as Hank speaks up from his work station: "It is fortuitous timing you should need an upgrade to your suit, Alex. The other day I had a sudden inspiration on how to optimize it. I'll implement that alongside the increase to its capacity."
"Thanks, Hank."
Later - evening sets in on the X-Mansion Grounds.
Rogue, Bobby and Colbur seem to have spent the day hanging out.
Presently their new friend looks out at the expanse; a couple of students seen coming back from a hack on the school's horses. "How'd you guys ever stand to be in class, here? You couldn't have paid me to sit still inside if all this was my backyard."
Bobby: "Well it's structured a little different from a regular school for one thing. And mutant teachers have a way of making class a little more interesting."
Rogue: "So do the students."
They share a smile like they're sharing a memory before Rogue looks at Colbur with a new thought: "Did Professor Xavier never come to see you, Colbur?"
Colbur looks to her: "What?"
"Lahk to see if you'd lahk to come here after you knew you were a mutant?"
"Oh," he kind of laughs, "I was a late bloomer. 'Here's your diploma, here's your membership to the Mutants Club'. Too late to get offered a spot in a nice mutant highschool."
While she and Bobby take that in, Colbur reverts to taking in this slice of seems-too-good -to-be-true, made-for-mutants world he's at once found himself in yet not a part of.
This mixed emotion settles as he spies Alex walking up to them; no complicated feelings there: "Hey. All fixed up?"
"That's the expectation." He stops in front of them. "I thought it would be a simpler fix. But it doesn't look you had a bad day here, huh?" He claps him on the arm.
"Nah it was cool." He gives an acknowledging glance to Rogue and Bobby before asking Alex: "So does your new suit mean you can concentrate on driving again?"
"Yeah. But you did a smooth job getting us here, why not complete the circuit?"
Colbur grins. "Score." He turns his attention properly back to Bobby and Rogue: "So hey, the Youth Center's having a party at the end of the week. Just a Summer thing we do. You two could come." He puts a hand casually in the pocket of his pants. "Like if you don't have anything else-" his eyes drift to the stables, "-any other plans already."
Rogue: "No. Sounds lahk fun."
Bobby: "Yeah, we'll be there."
Colbur smiles.
Alex: "You can probably carpool with Scott, if nothing gets in the way of him coming."
And on that, we advance a day to where nothing is getting in the way of the going of Professor Xavier and Jean Grey --except for a few items still needing to be packed in the Professor's suitcase.
The receptacle lies open on his bed beside the remaining articles, while a broadcast of the morning news accompanies his task.
News Anchor: "Authorities are looking for a Blackhawk helicopter which simply vanished from MacDill Air Force Base last night. No one reports having seen or heard anything. While personnel are working to shed light on this mystery, members of the public have already come up with their answer: aliens. And from aliens now to the otherworldly, a rare phenomenon saw a rosy haze descending over--"
Our attention goes away from the broadcast at the close of the Blackhawk report as Xavier lifts his gaze to the screen with a knowing look: "What are you up to, Erik?"
These thoughts are interrupted by the calm voice of Jean in his head: 'I'm ready at the front.'
Xavier: 'I'll be there directly.'
Adding a book to his stack of clothes, he snaps the suitcase shut.
Cut-ToX-Mansion Foyer
With a suitcase beside her, we see Jean standing in conversation Scott.
Scott: " ... goes better than Alex seemed to expect it will."
"So do I."
They're joined by Hank just ahead of the Professor.
Xavier (approaching with suitcase in lap): "Go ahead, Hank. I'd like to hear the verdict."
Jean and Scott turn curious looks towards Hank, who hands Scott his visor:
"Retooled to function accurately with your new power parameters. Off an inspiration of Charles', we've also installed a mini-computer to monitor your base power. Should a future fluctuation occur, you'll be alerted and provided with the new measurement in real time with no need for further servicing." He smiles toothily. "Though I am always happy to tinker."
Scott looks it over before shutting his eyes to swap his glasses for it. The scene now from Scott's perspective, we see a second after he opens his eyes -releasing his optic blasts behind the safety of the ruby quartz shield- a small output of data appearing in a corner of his visual field: percentage of power and if it matches previous read; simple to see and process in a moment. It disappears as his eyes shift from focusing on it.
While Scott's doing this Hank adds: "The inspiration came just in time for me to include a similar monitoring system in your brother's suit, yesterday. I should have a spare visor upgraded for you shortly."
"Thanks," he says to them both. "It looks perfect."
While Scott repeats the careful swap of eyewear,
Xavier, satisfied, gets on to other business: "Now, you'll find our itinerary by the phone in my office, should any trouble arise that warrants contact."
Something about Xavier's tone prompts Scott to question: "Are you expecting any to?"
"No. However we still don't know what Magneto means by his absence."
Scott gives a nod. "I'll keep vigilant."
Content the school's in good hands, Xavier starts toward the door: "We'll see you on our return."
Jean picks up her suitcase. "You and Alex take care of yourselves."
"Travel safe."
Hank raises his hand in a wave: "Give my regards to our itinerant teammates."
Cut-To - a following day - Ready Room
Scott is studying the screens, specifically the log files from Desktop Cerebro, when Bobby appears at the door.
Bobby: "We're getting a basketball game together, younger X-Men vs. older."
Scott doesn't appear to shift his gaze -and gives only partial attention: "Not today, Bobby. I don't wanna' miss anything."
"The alert system's hooked up across the whole mansion. You'll know from anywhere if one comes in."
"I mean, we've had 5 alerts in the last 10 days. That's distinctly unusual."
"Weren't most of those related to the weather? Doesn't seem strange to me; I used to go crazy in the heat before my x-gene activated."
"It isn't a pattern we observe every Summer."
Bobby glances at the screens, as unconvinced there's more to it as Scott's convinced there is. "Well, maybe taking a break will have it come to you. Even Hank's taking one from his labwork."
Scott: "No. .Next time."
". .But then the teams won't be even."
Finally, Scott gives him his full attention: "Notnow."
Bobby doesn't say 'lighten up', but he leaves with an expression that suggests it.
He doesn't get far, however, when the lights lining the sub-basement suddenly turn a familiar, Cerebro-blue.
Outside, we see the lights of the basketball court -not presently needed in the daylight- flicker on with the same hue.
Ororo, Hank, Rogue and Piotr turn to it with knowing attention.
Cyclops: "We'll take the Jet to Central Park. Colossus and Iceman, go on my motorcycle to the second location. And Colossus-"
"Da. No metal form while riding."
Central Park.
A quaking ripple spreads out from the epi-centre of an individual -a mutant with seismic --no, shockwave powers; able to send a destabilizing wave through even the air itself.
Screams are heard, though no real injuries --yet; people being evacuated as effectively as they can by the police while other officers train their weapons on the wayward threat.
Shockwave Mutant: "Space invaders!!"
Subordinate Officer: "What's he callin' us- aliens!?"Â
Senior Officer: "Mutants and their twisted mentalities. Don't let 'em cloud ya-- what the-?"
As if on cue, a fog suddenly accumulates in the officers' lines of sight.
Subordinate Officer: "One a' those X-Men are a weather mutant, aren't they? Do we engage?"
The Senior Officer's look hardens with consideration. Possibly consternation. "Let's ensure this crowd stays back--" he turns to address his other officers and the crowd, "alright everyone back! Let's move it back!"
On the other side of the fog, the X-Men have a clear view of the other mutant.
Shockwave Mutant: "Who are you now?! Some kinda' special ops?!"
Cyclops: "People just like you. And we're here to help."
The other mutant responds with another shockwave -nearly sending the X-Men off balance.
"What are you gonna' do about it!"
They make to get in closer, but where his initial shockwaves were linear, the next goes out in all directions.
"Make me stop!"
Reasoning seems out of the question as he ramps up the attack.
Cyclops: "He's makin' it too risky to take a shot -I can't steady it."
Rogue: "And ah can't reach 'im lahk this!"
Storm makes to fly out of the rippling reach to set up for an offensive move but the other mutant presses harder --resulting in the battle becoming less contained as he aims his aerial shockwaves to try and take down his flying foe --more screams heard as the crowd behind the fogline feels more of the assault --a distinct sound indicating something has crumbled.
Police crowd control can be overheard mixed with offensive coordination. "Move back in-- bring everything-- It could be us against every one. . ."
Things are going sideways. .
. .but Cyclops has noticed something through the targeted attack on Storm. Where the mutant isn't specifically focusing, the shockwaves are less. It could be enough.
"We're gonna' have to be fast!"
He starts blasting the ground --sending earth spraying up into their adversary's visual field from multiple points to disorient and primarily misdirect him.
Storm follows-through, soaring behind the other mutant before he notices she's gone, and sending a crashing bolt of lightening straight into him.
The quaking mutant goes down -however even unconsciousness isn't enough to stop the aftershock-sized waves from going out from his body! Their strength concentrated even more heavily on the ground now that he lays there.
If the X-Men don't find a permanent fix quick, they'll be looking at a fissure.
And so, Cyclops gives a command: "Time for a Southern Wind."
Quick as a squall, Storm catches Rogue in a mastered jet stream, sending her over the quaking ground and through the less turbulent airwaves to deftly deposit the younger X-Man in reaching distance --and having removed her glove on the way, Rogue now extends her hand towards the other mutant's exposed arm: "He asked for this!"
It takes Rogue a moment more not to release shockwaves from the borrowed
powers herself, but then finally, everything on this side of the fog is still. . .
. . .Meanwhile, at a construction site across the city, an unsteady game is being played.
We see a young teen boy touching sections of concrete making up a partially-constructed building; built enough to be serious trouble if it all came crashing down.
And from what the boy is specifically doing, it could.
A section disintegrates the span of his hand and about as deep, as he shifts from having his hand spread to a kind of reaching-in/holding motion.
The result being akin to have carved out and removed a chunk of wall, except with an equal amount of rubble spilling out of the hole.
With more effort, the boy is able to reintegrate this rubble, in effect reversing what he did; making the wall whole again.
He does this at intervals, testing what he can and can't remove before things seem unstable, like some odd game of life-size Jenga. And it looks like he's been at it for a while.
So long that it seems he may've reached his limit, as his next "move" sees him only disintegrating enough to leave a handprint as though in wet cement, only with
deeper fingertips. His quizzical expression evidencing his lack of intention to do this.
The young teen exhales, turning his hand over to stare at his palm, then looks up at and across the wall, seeing all he's done. With another sigh, he leaves his handprint and moves to a hole to see if he can reintegrate.
At first it's no-going, but then just as the young teen is about to leave with an unsettled conscience, he looks at his hand again as if some sudden sensation drew him to.
He tries again and reintegration is easy.
But a little grin is mixed with a discomfited knitting of his brows. .he fidgets in a certain way, like the sensation feels at least as uncomfortable as it feels good. . .and then his look back up at the wall speaks of an impulse. . .
. . . .leading to his next move.
First, he sets both his palms against the wall, clearly intending to go bigger before he goes home -yet his disintegration area surprises him. Second, all of his senses tell him he better put everything back before it's game over. Third, his fear impedes his ability to reintegrate -is it even his fear? While some of the chunk gets remade, the rest seems completely gone, as though he not only disintegrated too much but too thoroughly.
He frantically looks around for where the rest of the rubble should be-
-then back up at the building.
The young teen now paralyzed now in the shadow of what's threatening to come down--!
All of a sudden a sound like water from a firehose but sharper--
--the young teen watches as his gaps are filled in with ice coming from the hands of a man maneuvering around on a slide made of the same.
"Get out of here, kid!" Iceman stares at his work. "It isn't gonna' last long in this heat."
He slides over to where Colossus is sizing up concrete pipes.
Though instead of "getting out of here", the "kid" has come over to see if can he part of the solution. "I've got it!"
Stopping in front of one of the pipes, he positions his fingers as though holding a thick brick, intending to "cut-out" a like-chunk of the pipe. For the briefest moment he's managing to disintegrate only around the section he's "holding" while leaving the middle, but in the next he's watching, eyes wide, as a rippling disintegration spreads across the entire surface.
Colossus: "You have good attitude, bojskaut. But leave repairs to us."
The metallic X-Man then looks over towards a concrete mixer and bags of two of its components. He shifts attention to his comrade: "You think you can melt ice?"
Iceman considers before shooting his ice into a container, then creating a thick ice-lens to focus the sun; melting the contained ice expeditiously.
Transporting this into the drum of the mixer, Colossus then takes over -his organic metal form impervious to the particulate matter of the cement as he hauls it and the gravel into the drum. The keyless machine inert, Colossus proceeds to turn the drum himself, then -once the mixture is complete- disconnects it to bring it over to the destabilized building.
Iceman: "Maybe there's a job for you after all," he directs the young teen, "think you can disintegrate just my ice so he can fill the hole?"
Tentatively, the young teen tries it, touching one of the ice-filled holes with barely two of his fingers. It works -his powers not spreading across materials.
Colossus refills the cavity with the mutant-special concrete and, after doing this with all the holes in turn, all that's left is to erect a little framework and let time and science finish the job.
Afterward.
Iceman: "You should be more careful with your powers."
"I know. I just felt like- I just had to. It was making me crazy." He looks up, discomfort and concern mixed in his face. "It still is." He turns towards the building. "Like I just wanna. . !" He doesn't finish, either quieted by the enormity of his desire or not wanting to say it out loud.
"Mutations can hit hard sometimes." He glances at Colossus. "We get it."
The young teen looks back at them, wondering if they really do get it.
Colossus: "We come from a school for mutants. We can take you. You'll learn to manage along with normal studies."
The young teen casts them a careful stare. If that's true, he just experienced the result of their extracurriculars: "For real you guys went there?"
Iceman smiles: "We still live there."
Seeing him still considering, Colossus adds: "First we can speak to your parents."
The young teen suddenly shakes his head: "It's just my Dad. And he doesn't know."
Iceman recognizes his look: "Don't worry. He won't have to."
Meanwhile, in a location deemed safer should he start up again, the shockwave mutant awakes.
He looks at his hands similar to how the young teen had; as though looking at, or in this case, for something. He stands up, taking a stance like he's aiming when his eye is caught by the sun glinting off something that has just moved out from the shadows.
Cyclops fixes the man with a visored stare that quite plainly says: 'I'd make a different choice'.
The other mutant rounds on him. "What the hell'd you jerks do to me?!"
Rogue: "Just gave you a hand in calmin' down."
"I was finally scratchin' the itch! Feeling my power-- now look!"
He aims away from them with a frustrated focus, yet--nothing.
"You neutered me!!"
Rogue exchanges a look with Storm. "It should only be temporary. ."
Storm: "Perhaps the meantime could be used to consider something more constructive, for the next time you choose to 'feel your power'.''
The other mutant's seething eyes rove over the uniformed trio, "privileged do-gooding-pricks," he practically spits beneath his breath, his hateful gaze lingering a second longer on Cyclops.
Tense with anger and anticipation that they'll stop him, he turns to leave.
But there isn't anything else to do; the situation has been neutralized.
With looks of mixed uncertainty, the X-Men momentarily watch him go. And if they were then about to make any comment on things, they're interrupted by Iceman's voice over comm.: "Whenever things are wrapped up on your guys' end, Colossus and I could use a lift."
Cyclops engages his device to respond: "What's wrong with my motorcycle?"
Iceman (hint of play): "We can't really take our new student on it."
Cyclops cracks a smile.
But all is not positive as we Cut-Back-To the others.
The construction crew have returned to their site, and joining them are a few civilians; faces reflecting anger and/or fear.
In response, Iceman and Colossus have taken protective stances in front of the young teen. Colossus speaks, gesturing back towards the building: "No damages! Look! No problem."
The construction crew is more interested in assessing if that's true, some eying the building while others take inventory of their supplies, while the small crowd has a different focus:
Confrontational Civilian # 1: "I heard that boy! He'll bring it down if you let him-"
Confrontational Civilian # 2: "-he was trying to! They're just covering their backs-"
Civilian # 3: "Aren't those two of the X-Men?"
Confrontational Civilian # 1: "Protecting the thugs among them -it should be criminal just to be a mutant!"
Confrontational Civilian # 2: "Someone should get you all off the streets!"
But as tensions rise, so does a sudden wind. Similar to the fog back in Central Park, this wind is unnaturally divisive, seeing the crowd shielding their eyes while the duo of X-Men and their young charge seem to be just behind it.
Iceman: "Come on. That's the signal our ride is here."
He shepherds the young teen while Colossus peels off, and the wind barrier transitions to the second sudden fog New York will experience that day, while the aforeseen young teen witnesses the biggest surprise of his so far, as a Blackbird comes in for a landing on an accommodating stretch of asphalt.
We see where Colossus went as he carries Cyclops' motorcycle into the cargo hold, while Iceman introduces: "Everybody, this is Graysen."
"He should've had his powers back bah the tahm he woke up."
Bobby shrugs: "Maybe you've just leveled-up like Cyclops and Havok. We have needed your powers to finish the missions lately."
"Maybe. . ."
Bobby tries to keep going with it, adding with a smile: "Makes me excited for when it'll be my turn."
By his disposition or her own decision, Rogue drops her concern; teasing: "Don't think you're already cool enough?"
"Hey you tell me." He leans in, as does she, about to share a careful kiss when Rogue pulls back.
"Maybe we shouldn't raght now. If ah have leveled up. . "
Bobby flicks away any disappointment, keeping the moment light: "Think you'll be too much for me?" Taking her gloved hand in his instead, and running his other over her arm.
Gradually smiling, Rogue brushes her other hand over his ear.
Meanwhile, at a certain Youth Center.
Alex comes out having noticed a boy and his mother on the corner, considering the place with hesitation. He wears welcoming smile. "Hey there, folks! Nice day, huh?"
With encouragement from his mother, the boy approaches. Alex meets him halfway.
Boy: "My Mom's gotta' take some extra shifts so we can get groceries. Am I allowed just to hang out sometimes by myself, like this evening?"
"Sure can -you won't be alone at all! We've even got some snacks and stuff -enough you can take some home so your Mom doesn't miss out." He glances up at the mother with understanding. "And you've come on a lucky day. We're having a party here tonight."
With a little smile, the boy turns back to his Mom, flashing a thumbs up. She waves, giving an appreciative look to Alex before heading for a bus stop.
Alex ushers the boy towards the door: "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone who's here."
Back at X-Mansion, we now see Rogue filling a bottle at a water refill station.
Ororo (walking up): "I have not known you to be much for water unless you were under the weather."
Her choice of words succeeds in eliciting a smile from the younger woman. "Ah'm fahn. Mostly. .It's just these mutants we've been dealing with." Finishing, Rogue brushes some hair back from her face. "Ah don't it's just, it hasn't felt lahke it usually does after ah've touched someone. Lahk something different lingerin'. . ." Rogue's mouth twists with the complexity of the feeling. "Ah can't say it's really anything," she looks up at Ororo, "ah mean ah don't feel sick." Rogue shrugs, "ah just figured water's good for whatever."
Ororo (indeed): "When in doubt, turn to nature."
From there we go to a florist's on Crosby Street, where we see another mother and her son, this one we've seen before. It's Holo's new friend, Eeco.
Looking noticeably dejected, he walks into the store under the supportive arm of his Mother, who assures him quietly: "We'll grow as much as we can on our balcony."
Eeco looks up at her, unsure.
She meets his eyes; her manner caringly resolute: "You can have more in your room."
His Mom moves to speak to the florist while Eeco, after a moment, walks by a row of house plants, some with flowers. He gently touches each one in turn; communing with friends as much as checking the plants' health. At the end of the row he glances towards his Mom,looking like he'd like to get her one of these.
Looking back, he gasps, observing the now drooping state of each of the plants he'd touched, stunned confusion crossing his face as he watches the last one wilt before his eyes. .
. . while certain clarity may be coming into the eyes of another. . if we could see them: X-Mansion - Ready Room
Scott (attention reverting to screens): "That could be evidential to what I've been suspecting."
Ororo: "Whether that may be, that is not why I shared it with you."
Scott turns his head to look at her, perceiving a tone.
Ororo: "If you were not so occupied with what may be amiss elsewhere, you may have noticed yourself how someone at home is feeling abnormal."
When it's clear Scott doesn't have anything to say in answer, Ororo leaves.
Off her departing form, Scott inclines his head thoughtfully. . .
. . .Meanwhile, upstairs - X-Mansion Rec Room
We see Jones* watching TV beside Graysen, who has his hands in his lap, fingertips touching. His body language indicative of not feeling fully comfortable he's not going to accidentally disintegrate something.
*You remember Jones from X2, eh? He's the kid who can change channels with the blink of an eye! -Character-Refresher-Tra
We hear the audio louder as we come to focus on the TV. Meteorologist (lighthearted): "--egg on our faces for stating its rarity as incredible, we still have our confidence when it comes to the cause. Though that hasn't stopped some citizen scientists coming up with their own explanations."
The screen changes to interview footage.
Older Gentleman Wearing Aviator Sunglasses: "It's magic from the Otherworld seeping into ours! Or someone's plan for a new tourist attraction: 'come to New York, see the 'Mystical Mist'!"
Jones blinks to another channel.
Newscaster (speaking over a screen displaying a list of incidents): " ... venient excuse of 'I didn't mean to' and we normal individuals just 'don't understand'. Well what we do understand is that the majority of these recent cases have involved those previously thought to be normal humans, leading some to cry 'conspiracy'. A resident from a community hosting them speaks out."
Scathing Woman from Community Garden: "One of those people have been using their perversion to 'cultivate' the community's garden. Leaking their problem into the vegetables or doing it on purpose, I don't know what. But I wasn't taking any chances with my family and neighbors."
Footage is shown of the garden - now unrecognizable as the one Holo visited; the plants appearing to have been bleached to death.
Scathing Woman: "The respectable members of this community can start over once we determine the safety of the soil."
Newscaster: "The residents' concerns seem supported given an incident that occurred at a popular florist on Crosby Street earlier today, involving the mutant in question-"
Jones flicks to something else,
and we pan back to see Rogue and Bobby have been watching too.
Bobby (bothered/arms folded): "That garden's by the Youth Center. None of the cases that they're thinking are new mutants have even been from around there."
Rogue (likewise): "Downsahd to being anonymous. Once a mutant's outed," she unfolds one of her arms towards the TV, "they think something's in the water."
"Even if they don't watch the news they had to have heard about this at the Center. I wonder if that's going to change anything, tonight?"
Rogue: "Yeah- ah'd lahk to get goin'." Looking towards the door, Rogue just notices someone coming in.
Though Bobby's attention still on her, his following comment causes him to ironically miss it:
"We better go and get Cyclops then. I bet he's still fixated on those after-action reports.
Turning he now sees who's there -within earshot.
Scott draws a breath, though says nothing to that. "Ready to go?"
They proceed out together.
Once in the quieter space of the hall, Scott pauses: "Rogue."
Rogue turns, looking at him.
Bobby's paused too, though off a mild look from Scott excuses himself by way of: "I'll be at the car."
Scott reverts his gaze to Rogue: "It was brought to my attention you've been feeling affects from recent action. You know, if you're having problems I don't expect you to downplay them."
"It isn't lahk that." Rogue shakes her head. "I really don't think it's anything major."
Scott stands assessing her a moment before giving a nod, making a gesture then with his palm that they can proceed. . .
. . .The Youth Centre is a large, open concept space with multiple areas: games, lounge, kitchen, meditation area, media area, and some free space. Padded dividers currently propped against walls show the spaces can be made more private if desired - but for now open space is the word. The place is decently full.
An office area off to one side is the only proper other room.
Besides the bathrooms of course.
Near the media area, a couple of the youths are speaking with Bobby and Rogue.
Youth Center Kid # 1: "It's terrible- that garden provided us with a lot of good stuff."
Youth Center Kid # 2: "We didn't see who took care of it much. I mean we helped out sometimes, but that boy is shy. He doesn't visit here so we don't know how he's taking it."
Bobby: "Not good by the news."
Youth Center Kid # 2: "You mean that incident at the florist's? I'm sure they got that wrong."
Youth Center Kid # 1: "One thing we know about that kid, he'd definitely never hurt plants. Even if he was upset. And it's not like the florist was the monster who destroyed the garden."
These two go off to where a karaoke machine's been set up, intent not to let such "monsters" wreck another good thing by having talk of them monopolize the party.
And we join back up with Scott, now talking to his brother near the centre of the room.
" ... both used language accordant with needing a fix. With our new student it could just be 'growing pains' but the mutant at the park definitely appeared stimulated."
Alex's face is serious. "I don't know anything like that." He adds a little protectively, "and you can take my word for it none of the kids here do. Anyway you said it doesn't fit all your cases? So it probably isn't the answer you're looking for." He takes a sip of a drink in his hand.
"I might be wrong in thinking all of them are connected."
"What you're wrong about is where you think you are."
Scott stares at him quizzically.
Alex cracks a smile: "This is a party! Your brain can work on that problem in the background. Have a drink." He passes him a cup from his other hand.
Taking it, Scott soon realizes: "This isn't non-alcoholic punch?"
Alex points across the room to where the punch bowl is on the kitchen counter, "that is. But I got something stronger for us. 'fact mine's not even punch." He sips some more.
Scott appears unimpressed.
"There are other staff here, okay? Jeeze. And this isn't anywhere the kids can find it if that's what your problem is."
Scott's expression shifts to one like 'you're sure about that?'
Alex is unimpressed.
Back at the media area, we see why Colbur chose the name of "Rockman" as he produces middle-of-palm-sized rocks right out of his, giving them to some of the other youths to paint.
Once he's no longer "in demand", he joins Bobby and Rogue who are listening to the karaoke - all the latest hits by Dazzler; the Center's singers putting on quite a show of it.
"So do you guys have a drama class at the mansion?"
Rogue (ha): "Yeah, it's called Logan and Cyclops in the Danger Room."
Bobby smiles.
"Who's Logan?"
"Oh, he's another one of the X-Men. He takes some getting to know, but then he's really cool. Ah lahke it the best when he's around." A smile fades.
"He gone now or something?"
"He's been on a mission with one of the others. Well actually, not the same mission. They came back a couple tahmes but were sent out again so soon it feels lahke one long tahme."
Bobby adds: "Yeah. You wouldn't think he and the other X-Man, who goes by Nightcrawler, would've hit it off like that."
"Missions, danger rooms. You guys lead some strange life over there."
"To think about, yeah ah guess. But ah mean it doesn't feel that way living it."
Bobby: "The way I think about it, our lives were always going to be strange. Might as well be strange in a-" he sculpts an X within a circle in ice between his hands; the X-Men emblem, "-cool way."
Rogue smiles.
Colbur appears undecided towards this, and Rogue's expression suddenly shifts. Though we see it's for a separate reason as she asks, looking around: "You gahs have any gym equipment around? Ah feel weird in mah body -lahk I need to work something off."
Bobby: "You okay?"
"Yeah," her mouth twists with uncertainty, "just a restlessness."
Colbur: "Yeah we've got that. Got a whole out-building with it. Come on."
He leads the way to the door.
As they make their way to an outbuilding just beside the main, we see by the puddles and dripping overhangs it's been a rainy evening.
Inside this smaller building is a gym mat and various containers or pieces of equipment, some looking improvised.
Rogue goes over to a bench press and starts selecting weights from two stacks nearby. "Where's the other of this sahze?"
"Oh, we don't have it. We get this stuff secondhand." He shrugs. "We usually just balance with lighter if we're gonna' use that size." He cocks a brow like 'but you're not, are you?'
Rogue looks for the balance while Bobby speaks up: "I got it," using his powers to make a weight of ice to place on the other end of the bar.
Colbur appears skeptical until Rogue begins. "Colour me impressed."
While it does take effort, Rogue manages a number of reps, grinning at Colbur when he remarks: "You're deceptive for your size!"
Setting the barbell back in the j-hooks, Rogue explains: "A wahle ago ah thought some extra strength training would help me deal with other powers."
Colbur: "Has it?"
Rogue shrugs: "Ah think so."
Bobby: "She's definitely able to catch people off guard," he grins, "with or without her own powers now."
"Caught me." But then something in Colbur's disposition seems to have shifted again as he asks with an uneven smile: "So how's it taste to have your cake and eat it too?"
They look at him, confused by his tone.
"I mean you guys get to play superhero keeping things from being worse for mutants, then go home to your comfortable mansion where you're not dealing with those things yourselves. Like d'you know if you've got a mutant in the family, you have to pay a bigger damage deposit even if it isn't the kind of mutation that could damage a building? Like where's the guaranteed living for them."
Bobby (mildly defensive): "Hey we do what we can, Colbur. That sort of stuff isn't really in our control."
"That's wah two of our professors are at the Unahted Nations summit. They're speakin' on mutant rahgts."
Colbur reacts like he didn't expect that. However: "I don't think they'll make much headway until we're seen as people first and mutants second."
He draws a breath, running a hand through his hair like he didn't mean to change the mood. "Look, you guys actually wanna' take a walk or something? Now I'm feeling restless," he looks out one of the windows, "and I always like the air after it rains."
Rogue: "You gahs can go ahead. Ah'm gonna' stay here a little whahle longer."
Bobby heads out with Colbur while Rogue heads for a punching bag.
Back in the main building.
Alex returns from getting himself a fresh drink to join Scott observing the karaoke.
Scott: "How is Dazzler?"
"Dazzling select audiences from coast-to-coast." He takes a sip. "She sent me a post card from Nevada."
Abruptly, Scott looks around. "Do you see Rogue and Bobby? I think we'll have to go."
Alex eyes his brother from the side: "Duty's done, huh?"
Scott looks at him: "Excuse me?"
Alex focuses on his drink, idly swirling it. "It just seems like I don't fit into the other pieces of your life much."
Scott turns to face him: "I'm not the only one with other commitments. We've each chosen to be where we're needed."
Alex stares into his cup. . .until he notices Scott rubbing at his forehead.
He turns to face him, incredulous: "What? The topic of conversation's too much for you?"
"I'm getting a bad headache. That's why I think we've gotta' go."
"Well we have OTC meds here. What's your preference?"
Scott stops short of shaking his head. "It's an optic blast headache. Medications have never worked on them. .at their worst they can knock me out." He grimaces.
Alex's previous feelings give way to concern -and suspicion. He asks like he's gauging something: "That a thing you get a lot?"
"Not since my powers came to stay, actually."
That seems to settle something for Alex: ". .your body adjusting to the increase, I guess. . . .I thought it was just me."
Scott stares at him.
"My bones feel like they're on fire. I haven't experienced that since I was a kid, either." He gives a breath of a laugh. "Talk about 'growing pains'. And you're right, medications don't help." He indicates his drink, "this does to a point," taking another sip.
Scott regards him a moment: ". . I'm sorry I wasn't there for you then."
Alex shrugs, then flashes his brother an uneven smile: "Hey, you couldn't help it."
The compatible moment the brothers have been missing, provided by a fraught trip down memory lane. . .it can't last.
Scott holds his head in one hand.
Alex: "I saw them go out with Colbur. I'll find them."
"I'll be in the car." He tries to navigate with his gaze kept low; taking in as little of the party's visual stimuli as he can.
"Maybe I'll help you find that, first." Having set his cup down on the closest surface, Alex moves to guide his brother.
Cut-To Alex staring down a wide alleyway, directed there by the sounds of voices. Amidst steam from a vent appearing tinted by the sunset, he makes out Colbur and Bobby.
"Hey, boys! Scott's not feeling well, he needs to get home."
The youths exchange a look.
Alex is already heading back.
At the car, we find Rogue already in the driver's seat while Scott has settled himself in the passenger side, seat reclined a bit. Bobby gets in the back.
Bobby: "Whenever I had a headache back home my Mom would give me a cold washcloth to put on. If you like I could cool things down?"
Rogue (pulling away from the curb): "More lahk give 'im brain freeze."
Scott: "Just, drive please."
Later - X Mansion - Garage
Bobby: "We're here, Cyclops. . .Cyclops?" He pushes on Scott's shoulder.
Rogue: "He told me he can black out from these." She eyes his steady breathing.
"Yeah, so did Alex when I asked what was up."
"Apparently it can be a wahle. Let's get him to medical." She starts getting out of the car.
"I'll let Beast know he'll be there." Bobby gets out. "He can help us take him, too."
Following morning - early - outside the Youth Center
We see a tired, vaguely distressed-looking Colbur arrive.
He has a key.
Letting himself in, he turns on a light in the kitchen area, starts a coffee machine,
then goes to haul a couple of bean bag chairs into the meditation area, grabbing pillows afterward.
He then uses the moveable dividing walls to make himself a private space where he sets the bean bag chairs next to each other, pounds them into a suitable surface to lie on, then grabs a pillow and, with a heavy sigh, gets comfortable --after sweeping out from under his pillow some skipping-sized stones he unintentionally just created.
He doesn't have much time in his refuge when he starts hearing a noise.
He's instantly alert.
 After getting up to investigate, he realizes it's coming from the offices.
A thief?
No.
There's a groaning.
Colbur hesitates, but his instincts push him to act.
"Someone okay in there?" he calls through the door, hand halted on the handle.
"Colbur?" It's Alex's voice; sounding strained. "Come on-" his words are lost in a grunt.
The younger man enters, finding the office area looking disordered -actually like a small bomb went off. His mentor doubled over on his knees beside --the smoldering remains of a desk. The floor a small crater. Alex clearly in a world of pain.
"What's happening?"
Alex groans, "pain all over -I can't shake it. I- . . the Mansion." He clutches tight to his torso.
"Uh-h-okay- this way-" Colbur doesn't seem sure about touching him, but gingerly guides Alex outside. . . .
Scott opens his eyes, which are soon drawn to the reading from his visor. His visor? That's not what he was wearing when he blacked out.
Meanwhile, upstairs - X-Mansion Cafeteria
The residents staggering in for breakfast, Bobby and Rogue finish loading their plates before noticing a non-resident sitting at one of the tables; Colbur. They exchange looks before heading his way.
Back in the Med Bay
"Some party, huh?"
Scott looks over to find Alex on a medical bed a little distance beside his.
Off Scott's expression, Alex shrugs: "Guess the pain took me down, too. Last thing I remember was Colbur helping me to my car."
Cafeteria
Bobby: "So the Youth Center lets people crash there, too?"
"What?" Colbur's almost neutral question comes with a mostly clouded over expression, prompting Rogue to eye him.
Colbur doesn't notice, his gaze fixed on Bobby who carries on: "You told me you didn't live close, yet you were there this early in the morning."
Colbur's disposition reverts to chill -or at least appears to: "Right. Well I never can sleep that much in the Summer. And it can be cool to visit familiar places early in the day. They're like, alien." He leans back, keeping one hand on the table. "Plus I'm practically a staff-in-training so I know whe-" -a pile of pebbles spill out onto the wood as if he'd been holding a fistful. "Oops -sorry. That happens when I'm nervous sometimes. I'd never seen Alex, or anyone, in pain like he was. I kind of thought-"
Audio match-cut-to
Alex: "-thought I was dying. I don't know if anyone gave me anything here, but it's at a manageable level, now."
Scott: "Usually by the time I wake up my headache's gone," he swings his legs off the side of the bed, "but a little of it's still lingering." He looks up at the lights, which seem to have been dimmed somewhat from their usual level.
The door opens to admit Hank.
"'morning."
Scott brings his attention down to him: "How far into the morning?"
"Only late enough to be missing the breakfast rush. How are the both of you feeling?" Something about Hank's disposition is more serious than usual.
Alex: "I'll live. Could do with a change of scene though, if I'll need to be here any longer."
Scott: "My visor readout is the same. I assume you're the reason I'm wearing it?"
"Yes. Following Bobby's summary of the situation last night, I acted on the hypothesis that a further increase of power could be on the verge of occurring, thus accounting for an experience akin to your optic blasts' nascent period." He turns his head, giving a nod to Alex, "the same going for you. However. ." Hank's graveness comes to the fore, "I've since been pouring over the results of your gene sequencing. There is a marked difference to when Jean had sequenced earlier blood samples. It could be a benign mutational change. Though it looks decidedly more like a degradation. I fear the dialing-up of your powers is occurring in concert with a breaking down of your X-genes."
Alex (making sense): "So, ultimately you're saying-"
He doesn't finish; caught off guard by Scott abruptly moving towards the door.
Hank and Alex exchange a look before following -the latter with careful movements watched over by the former.
Ready Room
Joined by them, Scott explains: "Each of the recent alerts have lead us to mutants either losing control or acting on a compulsion to let loose. What if every instance was prompted by a power increase? The compulsion coming from feeling their powers uncomfortably pent-up, like the pressure inside of a pop bottle that's been shaken."
Alex (unsettled by the unknown): "Then something would be happening in the mutant community. But what would be causing it?"
Hank ventures an answer: "Perhaps we should be asking 'who'? Of whom can we think would actually want mutant powers to grow? One name comes immediately to mind.And one whose first* X-gene influencing ploy ended in an undesirable result, if I recall recounted events correctly."
*X-Men the movie.
Scott shakes his head: "For once, I'm not convinced this is Magneto. The subjects are too unlikely for one, and if you look at the amplified X-gene expression as the side-effect to the degradation instead of the reverse, Rogue apparently removing mutants' powers without affecting them harder in any other way starts to make sense. Her powers are short-cutting the process. Whatever this is, I think power loss is the intent."
Hank (playing devil's advocate): "Though only two of the mutants in question have actually appeared to lose their powers."
Scott: "We took the relief and reports from three of the others of 'feeling normal' or their power 'gone' afterward as the anomalous situation being neutralized, though each were mutants who were reluctant towards their powers in the first place -they could've been relieved to feel them go away completely; we just didn't realize. We'll need to follow up as soon as possible."
While Hank seems to be reconsidering the facts, Alex scoffs: "Well if this is something engineered by someone, we'd have an easier time asking who wouldn't want us powerless. But I'm still not seeing how you made this jump. I mean if X-genes actually are degrading, why would there be any amplification? To me it sounds like two different things going on. And maybe what you," -he looks at Hank- "think looks more likely in our results really is just some further mutation."
Hank: "Entertaining Scott's idea, it could be the X-genes are behaving akin to an immune system. That would also explain any variation in response. I can imagine your and Scott's X-genes being more robust than most, thus causing a 'call to arms' so strong you're taking a beating yourselves."
Scott: ". . .that, or our powers are going supernova."
telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionin…Hank: "In either case, this would imply a foreign influence rather than something isolated to your genomes. . .Perhaps I should have considered such an avenue yesterday, when Ororo suggested I run bloodwork on Rogue," he reflects.
Scott: "If you can find anything in hers, that would all but confirm we're suffering
from the same thing." He reverts attention to the screens. "In the meantime, we should operate on the principle that's so."
With a nod, Hank exits.
Alex: "So the question now, I guess, is-" he turns towards the screens himself, "what do we have in common with this bunch?" spreading his arms like 'any ideas on that?'
Cut-To Sequence of Hank initiating the analyses. . .
. . .Later, back in the Med Bay. . .
We see Alex breathing in a meditative way; a form of pain management. At a sound, he opens his eyes and turns them towards his brother. . .who's just getting up again.
Scott: "How long was I out for this time?"
"I'll put it like this: you're not gonna' make your three squares today. Though," he points to where a cloched plate of food has been left. "Feeling much better?"
"In ways, worse," he answers as he eases himself into an upright position, bringing one head over his intensely furrowed brow; indicative of a possible squeezing shut of his eyes behind his ruby quartz lens. "Feels like my optic blasts are pulling my head inside out, which I've experienced before but-" he stammers, "this feels more like trying to break out." Even still, he's literally not going to take this lying down, though pauses once on his feet. Alex clues-in that he's re-checking the reading on his visor. "Any change?"
"Higher." Scott digests that a beat before inquiring: "Any conclusions made on the cause of what we're dealing with?"
"None that I've come up with that make any sense, and none that I've heard. Ororo went to the home of one of the subjects, though. A kid with ball lightning powers, I think. Your team hasn't gotten a read on where the others are, though."
"That in itself could be confirmation. Desktop Cerebro works by detecting mutant power signatures." Looking at a clock on the wall, Scott appears to make an evaluation before moving. First to dim the lights a little more, then towards the food.
Alex: "Couldn't you use that to check if theirs increased?"
"It's made to log only instances of a certain degree. Otherwise the database would be saturated by mutants just living their lives. And it hardly came online before these events. These mutants literally wouldn't have been on our radar." Beside the food is a blended drink of some kind. He goes for that. "Have you eaten?"
"A bit. Not really feeling very hungry."
Cut-To New York City Apartment - home of "Ball Lightning Kid"
Ororo is let in by the mother.
We see a tween-aged girl watching TV.
Ororo approaches: "Hello, Willow. How have you been?"
Willow looks up, looking straight into Ororo's eyes with tired ones of her own.
Willow's Mother explains, "her seizures have returned," gesturing for Ororo to join her at a seating area back from the living room. "She was diagnosed with epilepsy two years ago, though they disappeared once she became a mutant. I guess that's the trade-off. . ."
Having taken a seat, Ororo asks with awareness: "Do you mean she does not have her powers anymore?"
"No, she doesn't seem to." She glances across the room at her daughter. "However you'd helped her before seemed to have taken them right away."
Ororo's face reflects the oddity of this. "I had removed the excess electricity in the air. That should not have removed her powers."
The mother frowns, appearing unsure sure if she should be concerned by that or not. She looks down. "It's hard to know which life would be better for her. . .maybe I should let her go to your school." She looks over at her daughter again.
X-Mansion - Med Bay
The drink having been set down at some point, Scott stands with his hands on his sides; realizing he's not that hungry himself, or paused by his thoughts?
Alex voices his: "I wonder how long it'll take for being normal again to feel like it, after all these years?" At no response from his brother, Alex eyes him. "Wouldn't you like it? Not to have a visor get in the way of people seeing you?"
By the positioning of his head, it's clear Scott's gaze is downward; thoughtful. "Sure." It sounds like more should follow that, though it isn't forthcoming.
Maybe that's the only thing Scott is sure of about this. Or all he feels is worth saying, given who he's talking to hasn't vibed with his X-Men lifestyle.
Just then, the dimmed lights turn an alertingCerebro-blue.
X-Mansion - Ready Room
Hank enters to find Scott already there.
Via connection to CCTV, we can see the alert relates to a small group of mutants using their powers to vandalize a city street -the Shockwave Mutant from Central Park is there, still apparently powerless.
Scott frowns. This guy's making things personal.
Willow's Apartment
From the positioning of Ororo and Willow's Mother, they can see the girl watching TV but not what's on the screen, nor the look on her face as she takes in a breaking news report. . . .
X-Mansion - Ready Room
Scott's looking over what the other mutants' powers are, laying the groundwork in his mind to formulate a game plan on the go--when another alarm goes off.
Scott shifts his attention to another screen.
While he can only see a map-view of the location, we can see the situation by Cutting-Back-To - Willow's Apartment
Willow is alternating between convulsing and releasing balls of lightning - - as if holding it in has been the source of her seizures' return. . !
Back at X-Mansion
The other X-Men are filing down to the sub-basement - towards the Ready Room to see what's up, just as Scott is coming out - or was. More alerts flash in succession!
Scott takes in the new images on screen at the same time Hank states from the readings: "It's the rest of the cases save one."
Piotr (incredulous): "All happening now?"
Scott takes things in for another second or two before a little pre-mobilization: "Rogue, do you have any reservations?"
Surprised by the question, Rogue no less has a ready answer: "No. Ah can take these gahs again."
"Good, because we'll be spread thin as it is." He starts leading the way out. Let's move, X-Man," he gives an inclusive nod to Hank. "Assignments enroute."
Discussed while moving--
Rogue: "Spread thin is raght. Most of these came down to me the first tahm -ah'll be needed in three or four places."
Bobby: "If there was ever a time to need Nightcrawler back."
Scott (like he already has a plan): "Or a functional double." Having been striding towards the X-uniform closets, Scott unexpectedly finds Alex standing there. "Sounds like you could use an extra body."
Alex watches Scott hesitate; the protective older brother.
Alex: "Hey if you can do it I can. Might as well use these powers while I've still got 'em."
He looks Scott as much in the eye as he can: "It's where we need to be, right?"
Scott accedes with a nod.
Already having been wearing his suit, Alex steps out of their way: "I'll be in the jet."
Back with Ororo The weather master uses her powers to keep Willow's lightning balls contained, all the while speaking through the young girl's ordeal in a strong, comforting voice: "Keep letting it out, child. You are safe."
Ball Lightning Kid's Mother: "I should have had her go to your school before- oh my God!" She struggles between wanting to rush to her daughter and keeping away from her body where balls of lightning still exude.
Ororo: "We will take her now. Though in this moment, let us focus on restoring calm."
The TV still displays the triggering newscast - now switching to the scene of another breaking story--
--and so too do we!
A news helicopter flies above cars and virtually anything not attached to the ground as it all rise gradually higher, as if gravity no longer applies to them --nor to a particular individual.
While most people have managed to anchor themselves by holding onto something, or escape the scene entirely be getting inside, this person is drifting higher into the sky - their cries chief among the frightened populace.
Suddenly--
--BAMF--
--Holo's sister Jacilon, known by the mutant name OfAll, mimics the powers of Nightcrawler to rescue the person --revealed to be the unintentional source of the problem as OfAll
BAMFS them -a little roughly- back to the ground to a waiting Rogue.
"Great!" Rogue acts at once- taking the other mutant's powers -and their consciousness- with a forgiving touch.
Everything hangs in a degravitized suspension while Rogue gets a hang of the powers- "Whoa--!" rising three body lengths into the air until she manages; gradually bringing everything down afterward.
OfAll (relieved/praising): "You got a hold of those, fast."
Rogue jokes: "Maybe ah was born to fly."
OfAll, already with a hand on the Gravity Mutant, now takes Rogue's to BAMF them to the next location.
There are fires - appearing to flare up just as fast as they can be put out -- by both FDNY and Iceman.
The latter takes a moment to direct his sub-zero blasts towards guns held by the police. "Don't you think we have enough fire power here?"
He ice-slides away, revealing who the officers had their weapons trained on -a mutant woman who seems to be caught in her own conflagration; flaring-up where her skin is exposed, which is unfortunately most of her body given the season. Colossus is embracing her - keeping her safe from any further risk of gunfire while aiming to keep her powers contained: "Keep focus on me!" He encourages, resistant to the flames in his organic metal form. "I'm not hurting, I promise! You can wrest back control."
If that could be true, it's presently beyond her. "Please. . ! Just make me stop!" Amidst her flare ups we can see her skin is slick with sweat, her general disposition woozy -heat-exhausted.
Iceman: "Colossus! Give me an opening!"
Colossus loosens his hold so Iceman can aim a blast at the mutant woman.
--It's at this point OfAll arrives on scene with Rogue.
Iceman: "Good timing! I think her brand of heat's messing me up." While we can't see what he means, Iceman adds: "I'll keep her chilled for you!"
Rogue gets within reaching distance. . . .
. . . . .while elsewhere, Cyclops, Havok and Beast are handling Shockwave Mutant's cronies -who aren't happy their friend was "de-mutantized".
Beast (taking that one down): "A creative choice of words from one who could stand to be more creative in their fight."
We can see the news crew retreating though not ready to all-out abandon the scene.
Shockwave Mutant's presence reflects intent on watching the X-Men pay -not that that's the way things are going. He gets angry -- trembling -- tremoring!
Havok losses his footing: "Supernova thing happening, Scott!"
The shockwaves are causing more radial damage than anything directed at them, their adversary's priorities apparently changing -or something else.
--In any case the stability of the entire city block is at threat!!
Cyclops' attention shifts to Rogue as soon as he sees her: "Rogue! You have gravity?"
At her confirmation Cyclops jerks his head up: "Take 'im away from the buildi--ah!"
--One of the other cronies causing interference!
Havok (looking like he'd been freshly knocked over): "Hey- you didn't finish with me yet, pal!"
He sends a blast towards the guy bothering Cyclops at the same time Cyclops was just about to --instead Cyke has to do damage control as Havok's blast also brought down a light post --An optic blast now sending it away from a couple of civilians.
Colossus, much more stable against the shockwaves, works on getting lingering people to safety. As does OfAll, who can BAMF around them-
-though the instability is quickly getting mitigated as Rogue, on Cyclops' earlier direction, had reached her hand out -this time in way of directing her borrowed powers- and aimed at the Shockwave Mutant whose gravity she cancelled out- lifting him and his damaged powers into the open expanse of the sky.
We see another news helicopter -- or the same -- making a sharp turn away.
Next Rogue tries to cancel out her own gravity in order to reach her quarry in the sky and finish this, though she's having trouble splitting her attention -and he can fall quicker than she can rise!
The others are split between the remaining cronies, the crowd, and averting worse disaster from the fight --all but the latest on scene: "I will keep him held safely in a current, but move fast!"
Rogue doesn't sit with her relief at seeing Ororo, following the older woman's direction at once -though coming to experience even worse pushback in the air as she had on the ground in Central Park: "It's too crazy without gravity! And his shockwaves are stronger!"
Shockwave Mutant: "Make it stop!!"
A similar call to their first encounter with him, though Cyclops -reverting attention now that his foe's been dispatched- notes the difference: "He means it this time- he's in pain!"
Havok: "I feel ya' buddy-" he aims towards the sky, "-hey Rogue! Ever play outfield?"
Bankin' on the shock of a hit at least interrupting the flow of the shockwaves, and the impact being enough regardless to send him towards Rogue quicker than she can be pushed back, Havok fires a shot--
"Aaaahhhh!!!"
--doubling over!?
--But the play works, Rogue making a power-zapping "catch" --then becoming overwhelmed by the intake of yet another power in short time --if not for Ororo's guiding winds, both she and Shockwave Mutant would've plummeted back down to Earth.
The previously absorbed heat and gravity powers go "on" and "off" intermittently -like a light with a faulty switch- while Rogue fights to get a handle on the tremors --a struggle compared to last time.
-And speaking of struggle --what's happened with Havok?!
Expressing sounds of severe pain, we see him laying with his arms wrapped tight around his chest.
"'LEX!!!!"
Heading for him, Cyclops sees a car --which has become accidentally -and unequally- de-gravitized by Rogue-- tipping over his brother.
Cyclops blasts it away, but-- "ahh. . !!" his head has snapped back with the force of his blast -he slips to the ground, clutching now at his head as he wrests his attention back towards his brother --working to stagger towards him --unsteadiness persisting even as Rogue's shockwaves dissipate. . .the unsteadiness all in Cyclops' head as his world dramatically tilts.
"We need to get everyone to the Mansion-" -he falls next to Havok- "-this isn't what I thought--!!" --and falls unconscious.
Ororo: "OfAll- how many can you take?"
Breathing with some exertion, OfAll rises to the situation: "As many as I need to. Someone just take care of Holo -I won't be making it back home tonight."
OfAll BAMFs in with the first mutants --and finds someone already there. "Colbur?" Her curious tone turns mildly instructive: "This place is gonna' get full. They'll need you out."
Concern deepens in the younger mutant: "I came to check on Alex--"
OfAll BAMFs away and back with more "passengers" before answering the question in Colbur's look: "I'll be bringing him," she breathes, exertion increasing with every trip, "but Colbur you'll need to wait until everything's settled in here, alright?" Her tone was still mild -she understood, but she knew how things needed to go: "something serious is going on which is gonna' to take some figuring out."
On OfAll's next return, Colbur isn't there.
Waiting outside in the hall, hands in half stone-filled pockets, it's clear he's wanting to go back in. Before he can decide to, someone comes out --Rogue.
In a state of urgency she passes without acknowledging him. Colbur watches her go into one of the other doors down here. As Iceman now exits the Med Bay in pursuit, Colbur pauses him: "What's happening?"
Iceman: "A lot. Rogue's gotta' blow off some steam from taking other powers. Come on- I'm going to make sure she's okay."
With a divided glance back towards the Med Bay, Colbur follows Iceman through the door marked Danger Room.
Rogue isn't running a sim or even a basic mechanical training session, she's simply using the space.
Iceman looks down on her from the Control Bay's viewing window a moment before heading for the ramps that will take them down to the Danger Room proper.
Colbur: "What's happened with Alex?"
"He passed out-- looked like using his own powers hurt him or something. Same with Cyclops and most of who we were dealing with out there."
"And Rogue?" Paused at the doorway, which remains open since no session is running, Colbur sets his gaze on the figure in the center of the vast room--'least as steadily as he can while the tail end of shockwaves reach him and Iceman.
"She's struggling with all the powers she's taken." Keeping his balance against the wall, Iceman turns his own attention from Colbur to Rogue, concern just as apparent in his expression, "it's never been like this."
--Though she'd managed to hold them in on the way down here, in the freedom of the Danger Room Rogue's let everything go --or it's all spilling out.
She rises with zero-gravity at the same time the combustion powers flare, then falls as they peter out in reverse turn--saved from a harsh landing by a slide Iceman's just managed to construct, which shatters from fresh shockwaves right after.
They taper off as Rogue is slammed from a propped-up position into prone by a sudden increase of gravity. The combustion powers flaring up again across her face--she struggles and manages to beat back the gravity; getting up--throwing off her gloves and removing the jacket of her uniform and her overshirt to expose more skin for the combustion powers to release through.
While Colbur hangs uncertainly back--watching the scene unfold with fear and confusion, Iceman gets in even closer, aiming to help cool things down--but at this distance another shockwave knocks him off his feet.
From the ground he raises his hand to deliver an icy blast Rogue's way, stopping after a moment to see. . .
. . .the shockwaves have dissipated. . .Rogue no longer seems to be struggling against the gravity, though she breathes heavily; taxed. Her hair tousled around her down-turned face. She's near to the point of relief, save for a stinging sensation persisting in her reddened skin; her movements and expression indicative of this.
"I've got you." Iceman comes to kneel beside her at the same time he distributes blasts of ice over her hands and arms and upper torso. For her face, he holds it -the chill of his hands coming through his gloves.
Rogue catches her breath. "Thanks, Bobby. . .that's good," placing her hands on his arms to ease them away.
"Cyclops shouldn't have had you grab all those powers. He knew something was-"
"-ah can decide for mahself, Bobby, and you heard him ask me." As if her attention's been suddenly brought there, Rogue looks to where her hands still rest on Iceman's arms, "ah'd say 'chill out' but feels lahk you've already got that covered."
Her hands are off. Iceman realizes what she's referring to and slides one of his arms out of the jacket of his uniform. We can see it's iced-up almost all the way to the shoulder, and that he is also surprised by this.
Colbur has joined them. "Y-your powers get a little out of hand when you're stressed, too?"
Iceman: "No." The ice starts receding. "This is what happened earlier, too."
Rogue: "You don't think you're also affected?"
Iceman meets her gaze, sharing the new concern.
A few stones trickle out of Colbur's pocket as he takes an involuntary step back: "Affected?"
They look up at him; time to explain what little they know. . .
. . .and as the conscious X-Men work late into the night in service to that and in effort to know more, one of their members abroad gets her own vague sense of things. . . .
Geneva, Switzerland - Hotel Room
Jean Grey reacts like she's experiencing a sudden headache -or a sense of something.
Understanding still settling in, Jean remains paused, processing.
She reaches for the phone, before on second thought shifts attention to her suitcase.
Meanwhile - Swiss Hotel Lobby
Kurt Wagner A.K.A. Nightcrawler: "Sorry ve are late, Professor."
Xavier (no matter): "It only means you missed what might've engendered pessimism. But today is a new day."
And also clear what's on his mind as he looks around -clear at least, to Professor X: "Jean should've been right behind me. Just a moment."
Xavier speaks telepathically: 'Jean? We're all ready to go.'
'. . .we need to go back home. .Something is happening.'
Xavier feels the weight of this sense at once. 'I'll send Kurt ahead with Logan. He's used to teleporting longer distances with him.' He eyes the two men who come to attention, understanding something's changing their plans. Ahead of filling them in, Xavier finishes his communication with Jean: 'If you could collect my things, I'll meet you at the airport. I will ensure we get on a flight.'
X-Mansion - Rogue's "Dorm"
In contrast to her state last night, it's a calm morning for Rogue. At least in terms of powers.
We find her eating alone from a tray beside her bed, idly shifting her spoon in a bowl of cereal. Concern and conflict creasing her face.
There's a knock on her door.
Rogue utters a listless "come in" with only a momentary glance up.
We hear the door open, then a gruff voice: "How's it goin', kid?"
Rogue looks up: "Logan!"
She gets up to give him a hug -careful not to touch the skin of her face to his.
"When did you get back?"
"Early this morning. Jean and Xavier are on their way. You didn't answer my question."
Rogue frowns anew. "Fahn so long as ah don't touch anyone. Beast worries it would be a problem for me even if who I touch isn't affected by. . .whatever this is." Rogue folds her arms, her movement appearing restless like her stress is bubbling more to the surface. "And Bobby's got it--we still don't know where it's comin' from. Who next?"
Rogue shifts her eyes up to meet his.
Logan: "You don't have to worry about me. Even without knowing what this is I'm sure I've dealt with worse."
"Yeah? Well ah thought about your healing factor. Beast thinks this would work the same on it as on any mutation it has so far; sendin' it into a negative spahral."
Logan looks like he can't quite work out what that would mean, but it doesn't really ruffle his feathers, either. In fact he rolls his eyes, "sounds like Beast's already worked somethin' out." He meets Rogue's gaze with a steadier one. "And Jean's gonna' be workin' this with him. I can't think of anyone who could do a better job figurin' this stuff out."
Rogue looks away, processing. . .settling. She turns her eyes on Logan once more, saying softly: "Ah'm glad you're back."
Shortly thereafter, Logan leaves Rogue to her breakfast. Though on exiting her dorm, we realize things aren't exactly as they seemed.
The Mansion hallway, or the look of it, appears to extend only so far until a junction marks its transition into different hallways altogether; even an alleyway.
Logan walks past all of these, pausing at an exterior wall marked "Dark Room", it's entrance hidden behind a fall of shadow.
Inside is pitch black. We can hear groaning breaths somewhere close, as Logan speaks knowingly into the darkness: "I guess you really do have a plan for everything."
Scott's voice is heard coming from further away: "What?Logan?"
"Jean got a sense of what's happening here. I'd bet specifically about you. Got her on the way back here to play doctor," he goes from an informative to an impudent tone, "wouldn't have thought that your style, but.." and purposely trails off.
Scott knows what he's doing. "Well if this were one of my plans, you wouldn't also be back."
We hear a self-satisfied scoff from Logan before he takes his leave. . .
. . .and exiting the shielding darkness of the room and it's surrounding space, he comes to one more door, this one familiarly metallic. Walking through it, we see him step out from the Danger Room.
He heads for the elevator, and once on the upper levels of the Mansion, comes to stand in a doorway off the cafeteria, where Ororo is addressing the students: " ... If you notice any change to your mutations, do not hesitate to speak up. And do not be afraid. Know that we are getting on top of this and will be able to help you, should you need. To be safe in the meantime, no trips off school grounds will be permitted ... "
Following the assembly, we pan past Jones watching television again. . .
Morning Show Host # 1: "Mutants have proven themselves to be a vindictive and scheming race, and that's what we're seeing here."
Morning Show Host # 2: "They call themselves the next step in evolution. I think it's the step back. That one from Central Park -who else had the thought he'd just gone primal?!"
. . .then see Jacilon speaking with Holo.
"Okay- I'm gonna' be busy at the Youth Center until Alex can come back. I think it's better that you stay here, anyway. But I'll come back to check how things are going."
Holo nods, stating bravely: "Professor Munroe said not to be scared. I'll be okay."
Jacilon smiles proudly. "That makes two of us."
Holo smiles, though it's short-lived: "Will you- Could you check on Eeco for me?"
Jacilon: "Definitely."
The sisters hug, then Jacilon goes to join Kurt.
Kurt: "Good vork you did last night in my stead, I hear. Job security, I should be vorried about this, maybe?"
Jacilon laughs a little. "Not at all. I'm certainly happy to be the passenger today. I don't know how you manage teleportation regularly."
Kurt smiles. "The fact it is regular is how I manage. Sure you don't want more practice today?"
"I think I better leave my powers open while all this is going on. Never know what I might need to emulate next and when."
"Good thinking." They take hands and Kurt BAMFs them both away.
Later, in a common area of the ad hoc "Danger Medical Bay" three youths are discussing their predicament.
Colbur has his leg up on a chair, arms folded: "My bet's on that woman from the news, killing the community garden actually because she was tainting it against mutants, then hiding her evidence."
Rogue, arms folded too, leans against a wall: "How does that make sense if only you and Alex are affected? Ah assume you're not the only ones at the Youth Center eatin' the vegetables."
Bobby is sitting backwards on a chair, his arms folded over the iced-over chairback: "Plus I know I didn't have any while I was there, and unless all the other affected mutants made trips into that neighborhood, I don't see how they could've gotten this that way, either."
Colbur (unwilling to give up the idea just yet): "So it's some spread out, anti-mutant group targeting multiple community gardens, and that woman on the news just messed up, or realized it was actually causing more problems," he steps down from the chair, "what with the losing control and everything."
Accidentally illustrative to his point, some unintentionally generated rocks trickle from Colbur's hands as he unfolds his arms. "Damnit," he says under his breath, bending down as though to pick up the rocks. Though after a moment's bothered-turned-focused stare, the "spill" turns into a "skin" as Colbur absorbs the rocks back into his hand -as though absorbing the properties itself--his hands now appearing to be made of rock themselves.
Rogue and Bobby take note.
Colbur sports a satisfied little smile, rising. "I was workin' on it last night. Couldn't sleep. He points to Bobby, whose hands are presently somewhat iced. "Got the idea from you, Iceman. Figured 'hey, if that guy can do both ways, why can't I'?"
"Nice." The two 'men meet their hands in a side-five, Bobby shaking his afterward as though shaking off a little impact pain. "Took me a while to get that solid."
"Beats leavin' a trail. Even if the design of this place accounted for that." Colbur steps over to to a nearby rock garden, where he now seems to put the rock of his hands into medium-sized stones to add to it. "Some silver lining to all this." He looks up, eyes setting on the Dark Room; what little mirth he had now fading.
Rogue: "He'll be alraght."
Colbur glances back at her just for a moment. "Yeah. ." He adds with a seed of hope, "maybe since he's here."
And speaking of "here", a certain two mutants have just arrived back home. . .
X-Mansion - Foyer
Coming to meet Xavier and Jean, Logan's eyes lock with the latter's, and from his we go into a Flashback - sometime after Jean's descent*
*a.k.a. the point where our story began!
Jean is busy with something when she hears a voice: "So I guess I heard right. You really are back."
Jean smiles a little; turning: "It's good to see you again, Logan. . .I know this is strange."
"Not so much for a guy who's cheated death for decades."
Jean looks at him as one might an old, long-since-passed-by avenue, suddenly seeing it in a new light. . .
Out of the Flashback Logan answers the question presently held in Jean's eyes: "It's bad."
He turns, the trio now moving towards the elevator. "According to Hank everyone's losin' immunity to their own mutations. Says Scott's lucky he didn't break his neck the last time he blasted." -Jean and Xavier exchange troubled looks- "The fact his optic blasts emit constantly actually worked for 'im. It lessened the kick. If you ask me, he could stand to be worse. The same can't be said for his brother."
We just hear Xavier say knowingly: "I'll go to Alex at once, Jean, gather the full rundown from Hank."
as we pan away and up, following where these voices are carrying. . .
. . .up to the upper landing of the foyer's flanking staircase, where we see Holo standing. Concern and curiosity etched across her young face.
Hank (O/S): "The Danger Room's properties have allowed for each of those affected to be set up in their own treatment environments, tailored to their particular mutation. As well as to their tastes, lest we forget the soul in treatment of the body."
As he says this, we see into a few of these "environments" - the other rooms Logan had passed before.
We see Willow in hers, looking like what you could imagine her room in her apartment may look. As balls of lightning exude from her body, they float harmlessly up towards the ceiling, where they're absorbed.
A thermostat in the room of the one with combustion powers indicates a cooled environment. We see her currently in a casual position on the bed reading a magazine, and just behind her on the wall, a cabinet marked "Ice Water" holding IV-bags, should she require a more internal intervention; the IV pole presently hidden behind a standing lamp by the bed.
Shockwave Mutant's room appears more "uptown" than one might expect from him. Perhaps he's taking the opportunity virtual customization allows to see how the other side lives. Presently he's seeing if he still has his powers, eying some kind of monitoring device on the wall displaying "2.5". As he concentrates, we see objects in the room begin to shake -nearly fall, as the monitor dials up to 4.6, then things begin to stabilize even as he appears to still be sending out his power. He eases and the digital display reflects the change; down to 3.2.
Our view changes from being inside the room to seeing a representation of it on a monitor -no "big brother is watching you" here- where we can just assume the occupant relaxed completely as the reading on the screen reflects "2.5" once more.
We can also see each screen is digitally labeled with the name and powerset of who's being observed - "Shockwave Mutant's" name appearing as "Alv"; Combustion Mutant's as "Jen".
Jean's eyes move across the screens, landing on one overlaid with a dual display of vitals;
She knows these don't tell the full story.
"What are their symptoms?" She turns to Hank.
"Besides the affects of his mild whiplash, Scott is contending with head and, to a lesser extent, eye pain. Though also a crippling dizziness which seems to stem from his optic nerves actually perceiving the rapid motion of his blasts. Alex," Hank sighs, taking on a solemner tone as his attention shifts to one of the vitals readings, ". . .unfortunately our technology does not allow for the turning-back of time. His last blast took its toll. . . Since part of their mutations involve absorbing ambient light, the hope is that keeping them in a room as devoid of it as possible will lessen the burden on their bodies, perhaps even tail off their powers. . .If you're to literally see them, you'll require a pair of specialty lenses."
He hands her such a pair. "Not night vision in the traditional sense, but digitally programmed with the parametres of the room and capable of conveying an image based on motion detection. Those should fit over your corrective lenses."
Jean hesitates, divided between personal feelings and professional duty: "I should probably join you in the lab."
"We actually do have a window of time while the bloodwork is sequencing." He glances towards a digital clock displayed in a corner of one of the screens. "Though might I suggest taking this opportunity to grab a power nap, instead? Stave off the jet leg; there will be a lot of work ahead of us."
Jean nods, and we follow a final glance at the screens. . .where we zoom-in on the "Dark Room" -- first it's exterior, the feed keeping tabs on the completeness of the protective darkness surrounding the door, where just outside of it we can see a rack for the "night vision" -presently empty- before we come to be inside the room with Xavier.
The scene apparent to us through his specialty-spectacled point-of-view, we presently see Xavier with his hand resting on Alex's forehead. "The psychic coma should allow Alex's body to concentrate on healing. . ." there's a palpable level of hope in the face of unlikelihood, the latter determinedly looked away from as Xavier concludes: "The reduction to his metabolism also hopefully slowing the mechanism of his powers."
He turns from the younger Summers' bed on one wall, towards Scott's on the one opposite,
speaking as though continuing a conversation: "I imagine there's no changing your mind?"
We see Scott out of his X-Men uniform, with his visor replaced by a piece of eyewear somewhere between glasses and a sleep mask; presumably ruby quartz, of course.
"The pain's an indicator of progression, it might be all Jean and Hank have to go on for a timeline. . .Plus we still need to figure out the commonality."
Xavier considers this; his friend's pain at least figuratively his own. "You can permit me to take the edge off, of least."
With no further disagreement, Xavier spreads his hand across Scott's brow, and we soon hear a soothed breath escape his lips.
Dissolve transition from the as-seen-through-night-vision ruby quartz to a suncatcher in front of a window upstairs; Holo's dorm.
We can see via a clock on a side table that we're further in the day from when Jean and the Professor arrived back.
Whether her dormmates just aren't in the room at present, or they're among those away for the Summer, Holo is alone. Her head downturned towards a sketchbook in her lap, though she doesn't appear focused on the partially finished drawing; a coloured pencil beneath an idle hand.
The young mutant is just thinking by the looks of it. An uncertainty in her expression shifting as she turns her head to stare at the space beyond the foot of her bed where she sits.
A projected imagining starting to take form. . .
. . .meanwhile, in another room, Jean Grey is startled awake by-- "Jean!!"
She starts.
Getting up and going down the hall, she pauses at the door to Scott's room -what used to be hers and Scott's- remembering, or thinking.
Suddenly she hears him again: "Jean!!"
Not a dream -and not in her head. But how can he be up here?
She follows the voice -which now includes her own?!- to one of the student dorms.
Realizing which, Jean knows what she'll find when she opens it--
--yet isn't quite prepared for the screaming imagining of Scott reaching his hands up to his ruby quartz glasses, removing them in a desperate effort to release what's causing him severe pain -- his optic blasts cutting short as his eyes blow out, leaving behind empty, somewhat bloody sockets as his body goes limp.
Imagined Jean - holding him: "Scott!!"
Real Jean: "Holo!"
Even at this intrusion it takes a minute for Holo's imagining to cease --now showing Scott shakily reaching his hand up ahead of the imagining of Jean catching it, holding it, trying to comfort him and herself-- and for Holo to turn to the real Jean with a vaguely traumatized look.
We next see the real Jean sitting on Holo's bed facing her, hands on Holo's arms in a comforting, stabilizing touch, while Jean speaks in a tone of gentle, yet clear guidance: "Our mutant minds can be dangerous. Part of your learning to control your powers is interrupting your thoughts when they can be harmful. To others or to yourself."
Holo seems to take that especially to heart with the "to others" bit. What if her roommates had been here? She looks up into Jean's eyes; what had she just caused for her? "Is that what I'd lose if I get what Professor Summers has?"
Jean considers her answer. With Holo, it was a toss-up whether things were best left to the imagination or not. "Maybe. It could be like what I experienced when I first got back*, unable to navigate in a space that was at once unreal and true. . .But Holo," Jean looks at her with renewed seriousness, "it doesn't take getting what Scott has to have your relationship with your powers go wrong. That's what I'm saying."
*Envisionings Part 1
Holo looks down with comprehension. Except...She looks back up to ask: "Before you could modulate your powers really well, didn't you hear snippets of thoughts you just had to know the rest of?"
"Sure I felt that way. But the reality was I didn't have to know."
Holo glances down again from Jean's level gaze, thinking further. ". . but now that I've thought of it, I feel like it's going to stay on my mind."
Jean empathizes: "Why don't you think of when everyone's better, instead? Steer your imagination that way."
Holo considers, and in a moment looks off into the center of the room, where before her, Jean's and our eyes, a scene forms - a celebration, with Professor Xavier raising a glass. There's no audio to this imagining, but a toast to health is implied. At the close, we sweep by many loosely defined figures, though Alex can be made out among them, and comes to focus on imagined-Jean Grey and imagined-Scott, sitting close next to each other, sharing a kiss.
The real Jean has a mixed reaction to this, comprised partly of mild amusement. "Holo."
Holo, a little smile on her face, looks away from the visual to the real Jean: "Sorry. I know you and Professor Summers used to be together, and-" she looks back at her imagining, which either didn't fade or has refreshed -close-up on the couple, "-I can just see it!"
"Well, being able to see other realities is what this school is built on." Jean rises to leave, adding the final guidance: "Just don't get too carried away."
A guidance Jean herself must heed, as the visceral "reality" of Holo's imagining lingers in her mind - and focuses her actions. . .cautious though the may be, at first. . .
X-Mansion - Lab
Donning the standard safety gear, Jean sits down to do her part with the bloodwork; her mood not quite collected. "Increase of power, loss of control. . .and we're certain this isn't transmissible?"
Hank answers from his work station at the wall opposite hers. "Admittedly more sure than certain."
Jean expresses an unseen look like 'that's splitting hairs' - or like she finds these specifics somewhat irritating, given what could be the consequences.
Hank adds: "In any case neither Ororo nor I have experienced any symptoms, and I was working closely with Alex -and at least an item of Scott's- the day before you and Charles left, when the first signs of their affliction can, in hindsight, be marked." He gives a second thought to this, "though I suppose my particular mutation could belie traceable symptoms."
Going by the look on Jean's face now -still unseen by Hank- his assurances are doing little to actually assure.
Though his assumptions will prove to be correct, as we are about to learn alongside our heroes in a following meeting. . .
X-Mansion - Staff Room
News Broadcast: " ... now speculating if the damages weren't caused by more degenerate mutants, and if this behaviour isn't engendering more, as it certainly seems to be catching in the mutant community."
The TV gets turned off.
Ororo (irony): "It would seem they are finding more cases than we are."
Xavier (somewhat likewise): "Yes. Fear does have a way of awakening such talent." He swivels from facing the TV to facing those gathered at the table. "Now where are we on the facts?"
Jean: "Nothing is 'catching', for one thing. Hank," -she glances to him- "and I are in agreement that the pathology resembles contamination more than infection, with a progression suggestive of separate instances of shared points of exposure; Scott and Alex representing the first, though with Alex's contamination appearing more concentrated, as if he experienced longer or heavier exposure to the contaminate."
Hank: "With zero evidence that contaminated individuals can act as exposure points for others. Unless we're speaking about Rogue, who appears to have subsumed the contaminate each time she seized the affected individuals' powers. True to form, this has not resulted in its erasure from their bodies, however unusually it has correlated to a build up in hers, making it quite fortunate she doesn't hold powers indefinitely."
Jean: "Rogue will likely be fine so long as she doesn't use her powers, and anyone who doesn't require a treatment environment can come and go from the extended medical bay, though they agree it's more prudent they stay."
Ororo: "So what is this contaminate?"
Jean: "That's been trickier to answer."
Hank: "Our new acquaintances have proven cumbersome to hold a dialogue with on the matter. Stress and disorientation, I'm sure," he adds generously. "Though it means our targeted line of questioning has lead to answers which miss the mark."
Xavier: "Oftentimes what fails to be articulated is clear inside one's mind." He exchanges a knowing look with Jean. "Perhaps I can facilitate."
Hank: "There is one whom I'm certain will not give his consent to that."
Xavier: "I was thinking it will be more efficient to go in at a junction. I can't imagine she will object, given the circumstances."
X-Mansion Sub Basement - Standard Medical Bay
Rogue is laying on one of the exam tables while Xavier attaches electrodes to her skin with gloved hands.
Xavier: "I understand some part of those you touch linger in your mind. I believe these may be memories, shelved away in a corner even private to your own consciousness. I will leave it so, while hopefully coming away with something we can use."
"Good luck. Maght be kahnda' messy in there."
Xavier gives a small chuckle before beginning.
Meanwhile, Danger Medical Bay
Ororo is making the rounds, checking that the occupants have what they need, and paying special attention to their youngest: "Remember, Willow, you do not need to be afraid of your power," the older mutant speaks with warm authority, holding the back of the girl's hand, "you are not here because you are sick, you are here to get well." She smiles.
A few, varying sizes of ball lightning release from the young girl, who observes with concern as one rises incredibly close to Ororo.
"Not a problem," Ororo reassures, actually reaching out to touch it, demonstrating how harmless this power is to her. "For me or anyone else here." She opens the door to Willow's room, further demonstrating how the lightning travels harmlessly up like bubbles attracted to the simulated sky, rather than out towards anyone who it may pose a danger to.
"I will be back, though how about trying to get to know a few more people besides me in the meantime?" Ororo smiles encouragingly. Off Willow's half-way decisive nod, she exits.
The young girl comes to stand on the threshold, one hand on the frame, watching Ororo leave as much as cautiously observing what's happening beyond her own area. Before the weather master gets too far, Willow experiments: stretching her arm out to try releasing a ball of lightning into the common air just like Ororo had. More than one winds up getting released again, but all follow the same, harmless path. While reassured, Willow remains cautious -or undecided; holding onto the doorframe while she thoughtfully rocks in and out.
Colbur: "Hey Willow- you gettin' tired of lightning balls?"
He turns a smile towards Bobby, who adds: "How 'bout some snow?"
He proceeds to make a soft ball of hail -wrists icing up with affected kickback- and tosses it to Colbur, who throws it in a low arc towards a game-looking Willow.
On her catching it, we hear Graysen's voice from across the room: "Hey! I wanna' join- toss it here!"
Willow doesn't look sure she can throw it that far, but tries anyway.
Graysen, also anticipating the throw coming up short, had started to move closer-- and the ball whiffs by him. "Whoops!"
It hits close to one of the other doors with a crunch.
Ororo: "Careful kids. You do not want to disturb the others."
Colbur: "Move in closer!" he waves his hand in a directing motion to the others, "we'll hot-potato --er, cold potato it."
Ororo eyes them approvingly before she heads -with "night vision" glasses in hand- into the Dark Room.
The sound of what's happening beyond is effectively dulled by the close of the door, though the change in ambience alerts the presently sight deprived Scott Summers of someone having come in. With a just audible breath of discomfort, Scott stiffly turns his head somewhat in that direction.
Ororo: "I came to see if you are in need of anything? I can grab a fresh compress for you."
We see through her POV a small cabinet -presumably a refrigeration unit- near the head of Scott's bed; within his reach should he need -or prefer- to manage the swaps himself.
"No. . I just took one off to release some power. But check on Alex, please. The machine*. ." Scott draws another such breath, ". . Hank has him hooked up to is supposed to convey his power away. . so it isn't inducing further strain on his body."
*For clarity, Alex's suitpassively absorbs excess power that he can't otherwise manage within his body. This machineactively conveys his power at any level, so his body doesn't need to contend with any at all --or so is the idea! ~Tra
Ororo moves closer to the younger Summers brother, whose suit has either been effectively covered or the machine is doing a thorough job, as we see zero glow of contained power within the suit's rings.
Turning her night-visioned gaze towards a monitor, Ororo relays: "It appears to be working as intended. His vitals remain stable. . .yet he does not show signs of improving, so far."
She turns her eyes towards Alex's head, on which we see now rests a head apparatus reminiscent of a half-atom ring. By the readings on another monitor beside it, we can take it to be specifically monitoring the state of his psychically shut-down mind; possibly a conduit to Xavier's should he need to make adjustments remotely.
Scott sighs at the update.
"How is everyone else?"
Ororo: "Mostly well thanks to the environments. It has taken some fine tuning of the sensors in each to make sure they are keeping pace with everyone's deterioration, but thankfully they are working."
"Any unrest?"
"Those whose environments can not translate well to mixed company are having a time of it, one in particular displaying a general distrust -I am sure you can guess who. Though I believe 'display' is the word, as he has not yet taken his chances in trying to leave."
The sudden sound of something hitting the wall causes Scott to start -a fresh grunt of pain following. "What was that?"
Ororo: "Bobby and Colbur started a game of catch for the benefit of our younger charges, and probably from their own boredom. I did tell them to be careful."
Back out in the Danger Med Bay - Common Area.
We see a palm-sized rock skidding after ricocheting off the Dark Room's wall-
-Graysen: "I got it!" Removing one of the specialty gloves that had been on his hands, he reaches out -disintegrating the rock.
Another is prevented from hitting any other walls thanks to some strategically erected "ice bumpers".
Colbur: "Sorry, guys. Didn't mean to make those."
Graysen: "And I didn't mean to panic when they all came at me."
Replacing his glove, he rubs at his other palm before shaking it as one may when shaking off the pain of having hit something hard.
Colbur: "I shouldn't have been playing," he looks untrustingly at his own hand.
Bobby shrugs: "We just need a different game. How about shuffleboard?" He nods towards where his bumpers stopped Colbur's other rock, "between the two of us we can have the zones and disks covered."
Ororo: "You would think so by what the news is saying. The truth is harder to say. A friend of Holo's Kurt brought from the Youth Center and several of our students-" Scott comes more to attention "-have expressed such fears. Though that may be all they are as well. Jean and Hank are having to balance checking for new cases with trying to understand and treat the ones confirmed."
Not much besides endurance shows on Scott's face, yet the shift of his body speaks to unsettlement- near restlessness. Though even if he were well, he couldn't do anything to facilitate the work needing to be done in the lab. Save for figuring out--
"By the way, I wanted to apologize."
Taken out of his reflections by Ororo's voice, Scott shifts his head stiffly back in her direction.
"I came down on you for what you were not seeing. If I had taken the time to see what you were, perhaps fresh eyes on the matter could have headed off much of this pain. I am sorry."
Scott draws a breath, both X-Men silent for a moment in the unknown of what difference different actions may've made. . ."Any determination yet of a cause?"
"No. Although Charles is trying something as we speak."
. . where wisps of memories come and go in front of his mind's eye, he sorting through them by way of reading their residual signatures as one may read time stamps on a photograph, finding those most recent. . .despite the scattered, prompted recollections of those to whom these memories belong, he indeed finds something uniformly stand-out in each of their Rogue-swiped "memory files". .
. . and now we see them coalesce like a dissolve-transition, where in an interesting subversion, clarity comes in the form of a fog. . .a peculiarly red-tinged fog, not unlike the supposed rare phenomenon reported on the news. . -!
--Xavier comes out of his cerebral voyage at once -becoming cognizant of an alerting tint to the physical space he's in.
Rogue, having been laying more or less relaxed with her eyes closed, also opens them to the lights of the Medical Bay, which have suddenly started to slow-flash red.
Back in the Danger Med Bay - Chaos
Individual environments - down.
Powers - releasing uncontrollably.
It's hard to tell if Scott's groans are from the shockwaves, the combination of them with suddenly unstable gravity exacerbating his dizziness, or from the walls of the Dark Room having retracted back into the Danger Room's wall and floor exposing him most of all to the photon energy of certain electrical spheres -- presently drifting dangerously closer to him -- and the only lights in the entire room now that it's suffered a power outage.
Even if Scott's mutation were functioning properly, absorbing that type of light energy would be a pain to his system -- yet even in the face of struggle and personal doom, his mind is beyond himself -"Alex!!"
-- to say nothing of the risk the lightning also poses to him, the aforementioned disturbances in physical stability threaten to disconnect the younger Summers brother from his crucial assistive devices -- which fortunately run on their own sources of power --
-- Ororo manages to take command of the lightning -likely by the feel of the electricity in the space, as the rattling air and fickle gravity makes it hard to focus visually- and prevent it from entering the machines -- or anyone else.
She then flashes sheet lightning to provide some illumination -- the compromise to Alex and Scott outweighed by the necessity for the others, as screams of fear, pain -- particularly the pain of ignition in the case of one -- create a punctuating din to the darkness -- the sound of powers added to the mix-- Bobby's newly among them as he tries to aim relieving blasts of ice at Jen; cooling the air around her in the very least -- the enclosed space, vast though it is, acting like an echo chamber not so much for the sound, but for the shockwaves -- which present further problems as Colbur's scattered rocks hang in the air --
-- RATATAT RATATATAT!!!! --
-- not to mention the very real beds and other non-simulated items; the former actually serving to provide cover.
--and it is on this chaotic, coruscating, cacophonous scene that Rogue arrives -- standing just outside the door at the base of the ramped hallway connecting the Danger Room proper to the Control Bay -- her body twitching with the instinct to help yet awareness that attempts to do so will only make things even worse.
The alerting lights having brought other X-Men into the Sub-Basement and out from the lab--
Ororo uses her wind to "catch" anyone who might otherwise have suffered a harsh collision from the sudden restoration of gravity, and stabilize them against the still harsh shockwaves.
Xavier: 'Colossus, take Willow into the hallway -stay with her.'
Kurt has already come back and gone with Alv.
Now free from obstruction, Bobby provides Jen with a more targeted counter to her powers.
BAMF
Kurt returns to the Control Bay.
Xavier: 'Bring Ororo to the chase wall. ' BAMF "Hank, we'll need to be ready to re-engage the program the second we're able."
All having moved at the speed of thought, it's in almost as narrow a time as the chaos started that the Danger Med Bay is back to function- thanks to a jolt of mutant lightning providing enough auxiliary power to sustain it ahead of a permanent fix -- the environments back up- thanks to nimble fingers and minds, and computer memory banks -- and all still once more. .by grace before any irreversible harm could be done. . .at least as far as the occupants' physical conditions. . . .
We next see Colossus out on the Grounds with Logan, finishing replacing some underground wiring.
While back in the Danger Med Bay, all but the affected X-Men are still coming down from shaken nerves -the latter group far more used to processing unexpected and chaotic circumstances, largely from the training typically held in this very room.
Bobby: "We don't usually have a program running for this long. It's never blown the system like that."
Jean is making the post-chaos rounds with a dual focus, as we just manage to hear the end of a conversation with Graysen and a fatigued-looking Willow, the latter sitting on her simulated stoop.
Graysen (nodding to what he's just been asked): "Yeah. It was kind of by my house."
Willow: "Same."
Jean acknowledges, then touches Willow on the shoulder: "Your Mom should be by soon."
As she proceeds towards Alv's room, Graysen sits down next to Willow with an "it's been a long day" kind of sigh and look, holding his head in his anti-disintegration-gloved hands as he eyes the older mutants.
Colbur turns from staring at the Dark Room to exchange a look with Bobby, who shrugs ahead of them wordlessly moving to set up; Colbur looking like he's really not feeling it -but doing this is preferable to sitting with what he is feeling.
Jen (from her doorway - applying a fresh coat of aloe to her first-degree burnt skin): "I think I'll just try and relax in my room for a while," she puts her hand on the door in prep for closing it, "thanks for the assist before, Bobby."
"No problem. And, hey, lemme' know if you want someone to hang out with," he eyes her climate-controlled room, "cold's never bothered me. Or Rogue," he turns an inclusive grin her way.
Rogue, standing with her arms folded tight across her chest, half-heartedly teases: "Ah wouldn't say never."
Meaning just to demarcate the shuffleboard zones with ice "bumpers", Bobby accidentally casts a sheet of ice across the entire floor.
Colbur shrugs, getting down to test the less frictive surface with a rock, but rocking-up his hand instead. Like someone still getting a handle on specific dexterity, he has a bit of a time working out how to un-rock it and, giving his hand a slightly frustrated shake, suddenly manages --to send a rock sliding-out sideways from his palm.
It winds up ricocheting off someone's shoe.
Logan: "What am I walkin' into, here? A hockey rink?"
Bobby: "Oh hey, Logan. Just trying to blow off some steam."
Having moved to where the rock wound up, Colbur absorbs it back into his hand before rising with fresh attention: "So you're the famous 'Wolverine'?"
"Famous?" Logan scoffs, "right." He stares a second at the rocky appendage now proffered before taking it.
Colbur can't maintain the rocked-up hand the length of the shake--Logan finding himself shaking with a handful of rocks while more spill over his fingers.
"Shoot- sorry. ." the grasp broken, another stone the size of his mid-palm falls from it.
Logan picks that one up, proceeding to pop two claws from his other hand and slash an "X" into the stone.
"There ya' go, 'Rocky'. Now you got my autograph."
The stunt working to ameliorate Colbur's embarrassment, he raises his eyebrows and turns an impressed look towards Bobby: "You got one of these?"
Bobby shakes his head with a grin, which we actually see on Rogue's face, too.
Colbur (to Logan): "Think you could just put it there?" He points to the rock garden. "I don't wanna'. .ya' know." He shifts his hand.
Logan cast a glance at the garden ahead of tossing the rock into it. "So, I guess you guys aren't doin' too bad in here, still."
At this point the door to Alv's room opens; Jean finished checking-in with him: "Come back when you've got something useful to say!"
Jean (to the now closed door): "Pleasant."
Logan: "Someone in there need to learn some manners?"
"Maybe. You'd need your accreditation first." The light tease is made as she passes him by on her way to the Dark Room.
Now looking thoughtful, Colbur comes up and pauses her. "Uh, since you're goin' in there, think you could give Alex something for me?"
"You know it's okay if you go in to visit him?"
"U-uh, yeah -that's fine. I'd rather see him later." He turns towards the rock garden, pointing out the slashed one, "that Wolverine guy just gave me that. I hear he has a healing factor? And so. . .I don't suppose you believe in healing rocks?"
"A lot in nature can be healing," Jean answers, bringing the rock to her hand via telekinesis. "Just ask Ororo."
Colbur smiles, a little heartened. "Yeah -well couldn't hurt at least, right?"
With an agreeing look, Jean takes the rock with her into the Dark Room.
We join her after she's already assessed the brothers, seeing through her "night vision" as she presently lifts her hand from Alex's, beneath which she's placed the rock.
We also join her in mid-conversation with Scott, who speaks like he's answering: "A fog had just rolled in when I left the prospective Summers camp location. Alex was just about to come up. . ."
If he's feeling more pain in the aftermath of the chaos, it isn't readily apparent; his response steady, if not now subdued. ". . .I didn't recognize there was anything distinct about it."
Jean focuses on Scott's tinted eye covering and what's surely on his mind. Of all the ways his optic blasts could challenge him. . .
Jean: ". . it's near a fallout shelter. Grates seem to correspond to the instances in the city, as well."
"It's coming from underground?"
"That's our speculation. Xavier is having Kurt investigate."
BAMF
Nightcrawler arrives in a network of tunnels beneath a certain span of New York City.
We see why he may have specifically been chosen, beyond his fast mode of transport, as he comes up on an obstruction anyone else would need to work to get through.
BAMF
On the other side, he looks around. Curious lighting affording him enough light to see by, though only so far.
He continues cautiously onward, alert for any sounds of company. . .
. . .soon turning his attention in the direction of a large pipe.
Nightcrawler: "No need to be afraid."
A small figure steps out -a boy with a facial difference and sickly hue to his skin -though that could be from his living environment.
In a moment, Nightcrawler smiles: "See? I look different, too."
The boy looks over Nightcrawler's blue tone, his tail, and meets his yellow eyes.
"You come stay here too with Leech?"
Nightcrawler cocks his head. "Leech? That is you?"
The boy nods.
"Vell I am Kurt, also called Nightcrawler. But nein, I am here only to find answers."
Leech hangs his head. "Leech likes new friends. Others don't much like Leech."
Nightcrawler frowns. "I am sorry for this. I must now do my vork, but how about a promise to come back vhen I can?"
Leech looks up. "You be Leech's friend?"
Nightcrawler smiles: "I vould like to be."
Leech returns the smile ahead of pointing: "Others go there. They not like The Alley with Leech."
"Thank you."
Nightcrawler touches the boy's shoulder before proceeding, and as he moves on, we see someone else appears to be watching him from the shadows, evidenced by another pair of distinctiveyellow eyes. . .
. . .and as he comes to be deeper in, an eye of an even more distinctive quality watches his approach --a crackling optic orb of electricity breaking the dark; one figure or more standing amongst the shadows.
Nightcrawler meets this "gaze", bracing himself somewhat, yet unafraid. "Hello, Erg. Forgive my trespassing."
The figures step forward, and we see why there was only one "electric eye", as the one called "Erg" bears an eyepatch over his other. The second figure's eyecatching hair of a pastel-prismatic hue is just visible as she steps from the shadows. But it is the third, androgenous figure who answers, stepping out in front of both of the others: "That forgiveness will depend on why you've come?"
"Callisto," Nightcrawler gives an acknowledge nod. "A substance has been released into the air from underground. It is causing much pain and suffering to the mutants who haf come into contact vith it."
Callisto scowls: "You think this is our doing?"
"Nein. I wonder only if you have vitnessed anything?"
She fixes him with a level stare, as if assessing if sharing information could backfire. "There may've been two who needed scaring off," she fingers a knife held in her belt.
Erg's electric eye crackles anew.
Nightcrawler's expression creases with concern: "How much did you hurt them?"
Callisto stands straighter: "They got lucky. We found their camp while they were out. They noticed us in time to make a quick retreat, and had the sense not to return there. Sounds heard on the fringe of our North border after could've been them, but they didn't last long."
"The camp you found, vill you show me?"
"There is nothing to show. We destroyed anything we couldn't take for ourselves."
"I see. . .Then forgive the curtness of my visit, but time is of the essence. Vhatever this is is causing mutations to deteriorate with pain. Should any of you experience this, ve vill treat you as ve can any other. Danke," Nightcrawler BAMFs away. . .
. . .though we hear this more than see it, as we follow the echoes of his voice back down the tunnel where he met Leech; where yellow eyes still watch keenly.
"Step away from me, Leech. I need to change."
"But you will hurt with no Leech?"
"I'll be fine. . .I promise."
Leech retreats into the intersecting pipe.
We're just able to catch a glimpse of "feathering scales" before we hear feminine groans of pain cutting in and out -mixing with other tones before they settle- the sounds ending at a lower place than they'd started, as if the figure has doubled over. "Leech-" she calls in a strangled voice "-now come here."
X-Mansion - Outside Cerebro
Nightcrawler: "No evidence did I find to the North. None that can be used, anyvay, as rather it is vhat I didn't find that confirms someone vas there."
Xavier almost chuckles. "Fancy yourself a detective now, Kurt?" He sighs, the moment of mirth gone. "I had hoped for more. But perhaps with this direction I can home in on the residual mental signatures and trace them-"
Suddenly the lighting shifts -this time to a held,deeper red.
Nightcrawler looks up: "Vhat does-"
Xavier (grave/pained): "He's at the crisis point!"
The Story Continues Below v---------with Part 18--------v v----------------------------------v
[center][i][sub][h3] [color=slategray]It all never happened ~ but in your mind![/color]
[color=black]It all never happened ~ but in your mind![/color][/h3][/sub][/i][/center]
[center]Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s.
Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer.
Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.[/center]
[center][b][i][sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2] 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.[/color]
[color=#7393B3]'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.[/color][/h3][/sub]
[sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2]The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'[/color]
[color=#7393B3]The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'[/color][/h3][/sub][/i][/b][/center]
[u][b][center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdICi-Xr-tY&list=PLayRnuK2I-SYTruTQmq3YU4YHtCdONzxL&index=8[/youtube][/center][/b][/u]
The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the [i]X-Men[/i] -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them [b][i]~care to embark on the e[i]X[/i]ploration with me?[/i][/b]
[center][i][b]*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into FOX Movies theme🎵*[/b][/i][/center]
[hr]
[b][sub][h2][color=red]Interest Checks:[/color]
[color=white]Interest Checks:[/color][/h2][/sub][/b]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191820-deoxys-a-next-gen-x-men-comic-superhero-rp/ooc][b]DeoXys:[/b] A next gen[i] X-Men[/i]/Comic Superhero RP[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/190866-a-cache-of-x-men-interest-checks/ooc][b]Cache of other[/b] [i]X-Men[/i] concepts.[/url]
[hr]
[hider=Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX][i]Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.
Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards.
Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.
Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now.
If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.
He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.
The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.
There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.
All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's.
However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.
[hr]
The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.
And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time.
She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the [i]sub-[/i]basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.
Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.
The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.
As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.
When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely [i]survived[/i]; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.
She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise.
[b]Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .[/b]
While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.
She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall.
If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged.
Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.
Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.
And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.
Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.
She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.
Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.
At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now.
Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call.
That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation:
Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.
Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.[/i]
[hr]
While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect.
Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.
Xavier even answered calmly. [color=#7393B3]"I'm pleased to see you're still lively.[/color]
In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment.
[color=#7393B3]As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers."[/color] He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. [color=#7393B3]"He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"[/color][/hider]
[hider=Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX]Cyclops [i]was[/i] questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, [i]when[/i] she had initially escaped.
He didn't buy it. Something was up.
Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to?
Or she wasn't going there at all.
It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride?
His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.
That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire.
[color=#0096FF]"What the Hell?!"[/color]
Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. [color=#0096FF][i]'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?'[/i][/color] For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear.
More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. [i]This was not good.[/i]
Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before --
He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.
His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically [i]felt[/i] what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly.
[hr]
[i]Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.[/i]
She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use.
She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.
Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. [color=#7393B3][i]"AA-AH-AHHH!"[/i][/color] His hands, too, clutching at his head.
Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.
He couldn't be among them -[i]- he couldn't be.[/i]
[hr]
The townspeople were bold, but not that bold.
If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was.
They weren't joining this fray.
One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of [i]'is it following me?!'[/i], perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.
This one [i]did[/i] ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.
The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand.
[list]
[*]The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.
[*]The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.[/list]
It [b][i]CRASHED[/i][/b] down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one [i][b]SLAMMING[/b][/i] into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.
If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.
Cyclops had managed to stand up.
This was one time he should've stayed down.
A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale [i][b]CRRRKKKKHH[/b]s[/i] resounded.
The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath [i][b]CUT[/b][/i], the pain [i][b]SEARED[/b][/i], breathing felt perversely like the absolute [i][b]WRONG[/b][/i] thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.
But he was so in need.
He lay literally gasping for his life.
His mind clouded over....
[i]And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.[/i]
Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.
Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.
[i]....Jean.
He'd thought of her. He'd seen her....
No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this.
He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken.
They filled gradually, deeply, painfully.
Yet they didn't shred.
Another...
...Familiar lips on his.[/i]
[center]* * * *
[i]Three Weeks Later[/i][/center]
[color=yellow][i]"I [u]still[/u] say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene [u]I[/u] would've left. Only [u]worse[/u]. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in [u]your[/u] mind when your power was only [u]considered[/u] too dangerous. I mean come on -[u]Scott[/u] was nearly among those in the pile out there."[/i][/color] concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.
Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been [i]right there[/i] when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. [color=#DAA06D][i]"That carnage was a [u]reactionary[/u] result,"[/i][/color] Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, [color=#DAA06D][i]"Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."[/i] [/color]
[color=yellow][i]"She's been [u]unconscious[/u]. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."[/i][/color]
[color=#DAA06D][i]"We're not [u]waiting[/u], Logan."[/i][/color]
[color=yellow][i]"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."[/i][/color]
[b][color=#4169E1][i]"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed,"[/i][/color][/b] came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, [b][color=#4169E1][i]"though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."[/i][/color][/b]
[color=yellow][i]"[u]So far[/u]. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."[/i][/color]
And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion.
The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".
Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.
The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.
They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic.
They didn't delude [i]themselves[/i] either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible.
A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.
In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter.
And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.
He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation.
Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.
They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.
Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.
Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had.
This apparent fact pleased him all the more.[/hider]
[hider=Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways]Cool. Reserved.
Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply.
So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered.
Chief among it all, Jean Grey.
[i]The center of his world[/i].
She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.
[i][b]Had[/b][/i].
[i][b]Knew[/b][/i].
Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind,
[i]from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.[/i]
Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.
[i]Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . .[/i]
The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.
[i]Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . .[/i]
Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and [i]that [/i]defined everything about his life going forward.
[i]Was that why. . ?
Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . .[/i]
Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .[i]strange[/i].
And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.
She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one.
Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. [i]But with Jean. . .[/i]
Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?
Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.
Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. .
. .[i]none[/i] of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.
What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.
They had to have been hit by something. . .
A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.
. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact [i]encountered[/i] something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil.
So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? [i]Planned?[/i] Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it?
Was this their intended result? [i]Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?[/i]
He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. .
. .[i]that strange sensation growing stronger. [/i]
Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office.
And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood [i]paused[/i] outside that door.
Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean.
So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.
. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.
He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start [i]over[/i].
Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. .
. .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.
That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway.
[i]But there was also the matter of. . . . .[/i][/hider]
[hr]
[center][b]X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX [i]X-Men[/i] franchise.
Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but [u][i]don't miss out[/i][/u]!![/b][/center]
[center][sub][h2][color=#0096FF][b][i]2nd Edition[/i][/b][/color][color=#DAA06D] [b]Now Releasing![/b][/color]
[color=#DAA06D][b][i]2nd Edition[/i][/b][/color][color=#0096FF] [b]Now Releasing![/b][/color][/h2][/sub]
[b]https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/193426-x-men-envisionings-a-pragmatic-adaptation-alternate-continuation/ooc[/b]
[sub][h3][color=#DAA06D][i] Back and[/i][/color][color=#0096FF] [i]better than ever!![/i][/color]
[color=#0096FF][i]Back and[/i][/color][color=#DAA06D] [i]better than ever!![/i][/color][/h3][/sub][/center]
[center][sub][h3][color=#E5E4E2][b][i]Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:[/i][/b][/color]
[color=#7393B3][b][i]Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/sub]
https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators[/center]
[hr]
[center][b][sub][h3][color=blue]The [i]X-Men[/i] continues to be this e[b]x[/b]cellent odyssey[/color]
[color=yellow] The [i]X-Men[/i] continues to be this e[b]x[/b]cellent odyssey[/color][/h3][/sub]
[sub][h3][color=blue] [i]Where ever it takes me.[/i][/color]
[color=yellow][i]Where ever it takes me.[/i][/color][/h3][/sub][/b][/center]
[center][i][b]X-Men Envisionings[/b], a sector of [/i]
[i][sub][h2][b][color=silver]TechtraColour[/color][/b]
[color=hotpink]Te[/color][color=chartreuse]cht[/color][color=cyan]raC[/color][color=purple]olo[/color][color=hotpink]ur[/color][/h2][/sub][/i]
https://trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour
=================[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="slategray">It all never happened ~ but in your mind!</font><br><font color="black">It all never happened ~ but in your mind!</font></div></sub></span></div><br><div class="bb-center">Aspiring Screenwriter. Imagination whiz jumping between many 🌎s. <br>Self-taught Pic/🎶 Editor, VFX Coordinator & Mixer. <br>Independent student of 🎞; ever learning.</div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2"> 'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.</font><br><font color="#7393b3">'The Reality Is: X-Men woke something up in me.</font></div></sub><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2">The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'</font><br> <font color="#7393b3">The Reality Is: It's getting me through.'</font></div></sub></span></span></div><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b"><div class="bb-center"><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/tdICi-Xr-tY?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></span></span><br>The comic book world is such a rich sandbox! Perhaps none richer than the <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> -mutations to mix, slice-of-life elements to turn into anything but ordinary -the lines are drawn but the colours exceed them <span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">~care to embark on the e<span class="bb-i">X</span>ploration with me?</span></span><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">*cue 🎶X-Men Animated Series theme🎼swelling into FOX Movies theme🎵*</span></span></div><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><span class="bb-b"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><font color="red">Interest Checks:</font><br> <font color="white">Interest Checks:</font></div></sub></span><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/191820-deoxys-a-next-gen-x-men-comic-superhero-rp/ooc"><span class="bb-b">DeoXys:</span> A next gen<span class="bb-i"> X-Men</span>/Comic Superhero RP</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/190866-a-cache-of-x-men-interest-checks/ooc"><span class="bb-b">Cache of other</span> <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> concepts.</a><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX">Writing Sample 1: from X-Men: GenetiX [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><span class="bb-i">Jean had been intending to search the facility for rooms unseen when she'd received Xavier's message about the injured guards. She'd changed course, but soon it became apparent someone had already had the mind to go check on them; a direction from Becker, possibly, following the radio disturbance.<br><br>Jean had decided then to return to medical to aid with the treatment of the guards when they were brought back. Besides a responsibility towards human life, she wanted to see what other damage the girl had caused and what she might further be able to infer about her from the guards. <br><br>Given her medical experience, she also didn't want to be missed. If she was going to go looking for places she wasn't meant to be, she wanted to be sure no one would be looking for her.<br><br>Ahead of that, however, Jean saw the director himself back in the hallways. She had tried to speak with him, but his impatience was clear despite his feigned accommodation -he apologized for keeping her in the dark, yet simply had too much to attend to after that mass technology glitch to go into anything more about it now. <br>If she had spoken with Xavier on the details Becker had divulged to him, which it seemed she had, then that was really all Becker could say at this time.<br><br>He'd cited privacy again when Jean expressed wanting at least to know this girl's name.<br><br>The guards were back in the building at that point, being taken to the Medical Centre, and Jean had fell in line.<br><br>There wasn't anything of operative note from them, either, and as Jean assisted with treating their injuries, she'd reflected on the non-conversation with Becker. Jean preferred not to tap people's minds unpermitted, or without dire cause. There was more variance to this rule when it came to enemies, however, and Becker was giving off a certain vibe....She'd thought she might catch a stray thought. It was clear the safety of anyone who encountered this girl was at risk, and through extension the girl's own safety. They weren't sure what all she had planned -if escaping and existing outside the facility was the extent of it, or if she had something else in mind.<br><br>All that took precedence over certain privacy. The girl's and Becker's.<br>However, Jean had found Becker's mind, your could say, shaded. She was sure with a little more time to concentrate she could see something through it, but that hadn't been afforded. She decided to try again after conducting her search of the facility. Gain an advantage by knowing more than he would expect and more of what he held in his mind.<br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>The basement of Umbra Biogenetics had been conveyed as a place for old equipment; an office and research space no longer used since a new wing had been built two years ago; generally a place of no matter.<br><br>And that's exactly what Jean Grey had found when she went there now, for the first time. <br><br>She may not've found the hidden elevator shaft to the <span class="bb-i">sub-</span>basement, had it not been for the psychic signature she'd been following. An emanation which grew acutely perceptible from the top of stairs, and stronger with every step down.<br><br>Finding the shaft became a game of Hot and Cold, with the voice directing her taking the form of psychic imprints; like a handprint somewhere dust has settled.<br><br>The existence of this other basement in and of itself didn't register too strongly to someone who, back home, was used to having a hanger full with one or two aircraft at any given time, a war room, medical room and lab, an amplifier for telepaths, and of course where limitless simulations could exist in a limited-size room, all housed beneath your regular 18th century mansion. But the X-Men were open about it within their own walls. Their elevator opened onto a main floor hallway students may tread down in their day-to-day.<br><br>As Jean descended down this shaft, it was like walking into increasingly humid air; a growing weight pressing down on her perception.<br><br>When she came upon Ryder's room, it didn't feel like one where someone lived, but where they merely <span class="bb-i">survived</span>; the affect poignant. The psychic signature here, like no where else, added on an emotional weight. There was nothing more to be gleaned from this space. Jean moved on.<br><br>She next came to a research room, where her eyes moved over devices not unlike what were used above, or back at the X-Mansion, yet these ones felt deceptive in their familiarity. Jean flinched as someone with a headache may at a sudden noise. <br><br><span class="bb-b">Then she'd found the audio logs. . . .</span><br><br>While she listened, it was as though what they detailed came to life for Jean, at least in terms of the sensation she was experiencing; dialing up. But the mind working as it can when a person is concentrating deeply, or determined to finish something, the sensation was swept to the back of her mind until the point where it crashed back to the front, unable to be ignored any longer; the point when you realize you should've been paying attention to what your body was trying to tell you.<br><br>She managed to get out of the room, back up the shaft, to the main basement's stairs. Then she had to pause. Crouching down with a hand on the wall. <br><br>If the recurring experience before had been like psychic nausea, this was like being drugged. <br>Any processing her mind had to do happened as though through a warped lens: the psychic signatures hanging in the air like pieces of broken mirror, distorting the room; thoughts from the people above freely entering her head, but coming as though from a malfunctioning radio in an echo chamber. Jean closed her eyes. Even her own thoughts felt disembodied.<br><br>Her mind shifted to Scott, her hand -in the psychic space of her mind- clutching the handle to "their door", yet it was as though she couldn't get a hold on herself -couldn't manipulate the handle to gain access.<br><br>And there was another...a certain sensation that had grown on her, within her, now feeling like cascading wind chimes drifting further apart. She could feel them still connected, still well, yet their sound was beyond her reach.<br><br>Opening her eyes, Jean determinedly stood up.<br><br>She had been hesitant to attempt stairs feeling like this, when someone else could be affected by a misstep. But she knew the sensations were all mental; she was capable physically. She just had to concentrate on her body instead of her mind for a few moments; had to get out of here.<br><br>Managing once more, Jean drew a breath at the landing; then made a beeline for her quarters.<br><br>At some point along the way, she vaguely registered Becker down another hallway -he probably saw her- but there was no way she could make a second attempt at him now. <br><br>Locking the door once inside her room, Jean drew more collecting breaths, but had to delay hitting the bed to first place another long-distance telephone call. <br><br>That done, she curled up with the distress of all she'd just learned and the disturbance of the lingering sensation:<br>Her mind feeling like a PC made to process something it didn't have the hardware for, while other applications and programs were open. Its performance so hampered that even everyday tasks were met with a stall; impossible for anything to get done prior to a reboot.<br><br>Jean knew she wouldn't be able to communicate with Xavier or Scott until then.</span><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>While both bodies experienced the startle reflex, and both heads turned in her direction, the girl hadn't exactly achieved her intended effect. <br>Alert described Cyclops and Professor Xavier's present state rather than scared. The two sitting watchfully, yet still.<br><br>Xavier even answered calmly. <font color="#7393b3">"I'm pleased to see you're still lively.</font> <br>In truth he knew she shouldn't be exerting herself, but he would follow her lead for the moment. <br><font color="#7393b3">As for where we came from, that would be a school I run in North America, for gifted young people such as yourself. I have made it my life's work to help those with strong powers out of troubled circumstances. As I once did for my friend here, Scott Summers."</font> He gestured towards him, thinking it may help this young mutant to know that the two before her had, perhaps, some level of understanding on what she was going through. <font color="#7393b3">"He now assists me in the running of the school, and along with a select group of my other grown pupils fights to protect those who require it. My name, is Professor Charles Xavier. Perhaps you could tell us yours?"</font></div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX">Writing Sample 2: from X-Men: GenetiX [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Cyclops <span class="bb-i">was</span> questioning Ryder's choice of destination. Why plan so long to escape Umbra just to return to it? If she wanted to flatten the place, it sounded pretty clear she could've done that already, <span class="bb-i">when</span> she had initially escaped. <br><br>He didn't buy it. Something was up.<br>Either she was going there for a different reason than she'd stated -something she realized she needed that wasn't tech related; she didn't have remote access to? <br>Or she wasn't going there at all.<br><br>It did occur to him that their mini-X-jet was parked some distance in a clearing of the forest beyond the other side of Umbra. Could she have figured that out and wanted to steal their ride? <br><br>His sense of direction remained acute, though the more they travelled the more he lost ground on Ryder. He had the impulse to hurry -- he still had the advantage of size and could take much longer strides than she. But he knew better. Hurrying in this terrain at this time of day would only serve to set him back even more.<br><br>That's when he felt the ground shake beneath him, heard a sound like something being ripped from the earth at the same time, then heard the first scream, followed by gunfire. <br><br><font color="#0096ff">"What the Hell?!"</font><br><br>Things became oddly clearer some distance up ahead, and Cyclops registered it was because trees had fallen out of view. <font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-i">'Is she uprooting the forest, or...?'</span></font> For all he knew this could be another mutant. The worst case scenario was it was an innocent local acting our of fear. <br><br>More sounds echoed -- quieter and less directly than if they hadn't been in a forest, but enough that Cyclops had a sense he'd be coming up on some sickening scene -- then came the shriek. It brought his mind back to the parking lot when Ryder had been injured. He was sure she'd just been again. <span class="bb-i">This was not good.</span><br><br>Cyclops did hurry now -- recovering his footing fast each time he lost it. Pain was swept aside as adrenaline flooded in. He needed to get to the scene before -- <br>He froze. Eyes widening behind his visor as mangled screams replaced by something worse registered through his auditory system.<br><br>His basic human instincts said to stay firmly planted where he was, but the rest -his X-Men instincts- took over; charging towards danger being just part of the protocol. Moving on, he practically <span class="bb-i">felt</span> what he was hearing, as though his body knew what his mind couldn't possibly.<br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><span class="bb-i">Some distance away in two separate places, two others were feeling the carnage as well, though decidedly more viscerally.</span><br><br>She'd been making her way to them since the failed communication, sensing he needed her, and now, Jean Grey screamed, clutching at her head as she felt multiple minds die horrifically in succession, then at once. She didn't even realize she'd fallen until she made herself open her eyes -- going against her instinct to shut out the world by shutting her eyes; she needed to see the space of the world in front of her which was devoid of decimation. But it was no use. <br><br>She registered no pain from the fall -- registered nothing but the concoction brought on by her mutant telepathy and natural empathy.<br><br>Xavier had gone back to the roads, planning on influencing a mind just enough to have himself driven back to the facility. He had come across a few vehicles indicating the arrival of more townspeople without any current occupants, when he, too, felt the pain of cerebral death on repeat. <font color="#7393b3"><span class="bb-i">"AA-AH-AHHH!"</span></font> His hands, too, clutching at his head.<br><br>Separately, the telepaths fought through the pain as though physically sifting through the bodies to try and locate one in particular.<br><br>He couldn't be among them -<span class="bb-i">- he couldn't be.</span><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br>The townspeople were bold, but not that bold.<br>If the gruesome sounds coming from the altered forest weren't enough, the insane amount of gunfire certainly was. <br><br>They weren't joining this fray.<br><br>One, however, perhaps with the panicked thinking of <span class="bb-i">'is it following me?!'</span>, perhaps by sheer accident, or perhaps getting off a calculated shot before turning tail to collect their quarry another day, fired off another of those enhanced net guns.<br><br>This one <span class="bb-i">did</span> ensnare Cyclops, who went down painfully, an unsettling warmth bubbling out in all the places where he'd been shot before by Ryder, indicative of the stitching and packing no longer holding. Only he wasn't registering that just now. He had something else to worry about.<br><br>The netting had managed to bind one hand tightly in the very position required for his visor to engage. After a few scarce seconds of blasting apart the earth Cyclops shut his eyes, having to act blind until he could extricate his hand. <br><br><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li>The good news was: he had blasted apart some of the net, as well.</li><li>The bad news was: the blasting of the already disturbed earth saw to the felling of another tree.</li></ul><br><br>It <span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">CRASHED</span></span> down onto another, branches breaking. A thick one <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">SLAMMING</span></span> into an incline below -- one Cyclops had only minutes before came down in a scarcely controlled skid -- the branch now careening down it.<br><br>If that branch had merely rolled from the higher elevation, he could've heard it and blasted it away. As it came with the noise of coniferous impact and breakage, however, he couldn't sort out what he was hearing in time.<br><br>Cyclops had managed to stand up.<br>This was one time he should've stayed down.<br><br>A yell was cut off as the air rushed out of his lungs -- the branch had slammed into him -- slammed him back into the thick trunk of another tree, and a series of tell-tale <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">CRRRKKKKHH</span>s</span> resounded.<br><br>The branch fell away and so did he, finding himself in a lethal cycle --body desperate for air, but every breath <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">CUT</span></span>, the pain <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">SEARED</span></span>, breathing felt perversely like the absolute <span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">WRONG</span></span> thing to do --that he would tear his lungs to ribbons if he expanded them against his splintered chest.<br><br>But he was so in need.<br><br>He lay literally gasping for his life.<br><br>His mind clouded over....<br><br><span class="bb-i">And as it would happen, so did the surrounding area.</span><br><br>Fog permeated the woods so if any foolhardy or militant souls were left, they'd be absolutely blind. The fog was oddly sectional, however, and where bodies lay it was clearer.<br><br>Cyclops, no longer blasting, had a vague, visual registration of the scene before his faculties fell further away.<br><br><span class="bb-i">....Jean.<br>He'd thought of her. He'd seen her....<br>No. She shouldn't have been there. No where near this.<br>He felt his lungs fill with a breath he hadn't taken.<br>They filled gradually, deeply, painfully. <br>Yet they didn't shred.<br>Another...<br>...Familiar lips on his.</span><br><br><div class="bb-center">* * * *<br><span class="bb-i">Three Weeks Later</span></div><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"I <span class="bb-u">still</span> say, it doesn't matter who she is. That scene in the forest looked like a scene <span class="bb-u">I</span> would've left. Only <span class="bb-u">worse</span>. I know how you two feel about this sorta' thing, but you let Xavier put blocks in <span class="bb-u">your</span> mind when your power was only <span class="bb-u">considered</span> too dangerous. I mean come on -<span class="bb-u">Scott</span> was nearly among those in the pile out there."</span></font> concluded the gruff voice of Wolverine.<br><br>Jean didn't need to be reminded -of the scene or how close she came to losing Scott. Truly his only saving grace might've been that he hadn't been <span class="bb-i">right there</span> when it all went down; there was no entertaining the idea that Ryder would've discriminated. <font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"That carnage was a <span class="bb-u">reactionary</span> result,"</span></font> Jean pointed out in a quiet, yet authoritative voice, <font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"Ryder felt cornered. Threatened. She's been a lab experiment all her life. If either myself or Charles try anything in her mind, she might react on an instinctive level to the exact result we're trying to avoid."</span> </font><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"She's been <span class="bb-u">unconscious</span>. And the longer we wait the less she's probably gonna' stay that way."</span></font><br><br><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i">"We're not <span class="bb-u">waiting</span>, Logan."</span></font><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"Right. We've just been having regular round table discussions about how exactly we should act. Same difference."</span></font><br><br><span class="bb-b"><font color="#4169e1"><span class="bb-i">"Not to forget, she may not be quite as unconscious as she's seemed,"</span></font></span> came the reasoning voice of X-Men's most hirsute; The Beast, <span class="bb-b"><font color="#4169e1"><span class="bb-i">"though, as far as we are aware, he has been proceeding without evidential certainty on the matter, Charles has been proceeding on that thought, none-the-less. So far the place hasn't come crashing down around us."</span></font></span><br><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">"<span class="bb-u">So far</span>. If you ask me, Chuck is too close to this to base anything around. . .At least he's sound enough on the subject to keep her in the Danger Room."</span></font><br><br>And so that's where Ryder had been since the X-Men arrived on the unspeakable scene and jetted her, Cyclops, Jean Grey and Xavier back to the Mansion. <br>The Danger Room, some distance down the basement hallway from the Ready Room where the X-Men were having yet another meeting on the matter of "Ryder Xavier".<br><br>Despite Ryder's extensive injuries, she hadn't been housed in the Medical Lab for a moment. It was deemed too risky, especially as Cyclops would be recovering there. Not only was the Danger Room the most fortified of the entire building, being that the X-Men could train at realistic intensity, but the simulation technology it contained could also be utilized -and was- to make the environment appear more welcoming.<br><br>The very last thing they wanted was for Ryder to think she had just traded one captive situation for another.<br><br>They made the room look like one of the Mansion's bedrooms, complete with a window. That being said, they didn't want the gesture to be misconstrued as some ulterior motive illusion, and so they lowered the realism of the sim so it did appear, more or less, holographic. Ryder would be able to grasp her setting was manufactured, and they would be agreeable to changing it if she didn't appreciate their aesthetic. <br><br>They didn't delude <span class="bb-i">themselves</span> either --knowing full well once she was awake, it likely wouldn't take long for her to get a technic read on the place and be able to adjust the simulation at will. But at least anything she could do with it would be contained within this space. Beyond it, they had removed anything they thought she could use as a weapon, going analog where possible. <br><br>A return trip had also been made to Umbra within these past three weeks, with the intent to shut the place down. They were unable to locate Becker, and the only hidden rooms they found were the ones Jean already came across. But they had seen to absorbing the young charges into Xavier's institute, and had recovered some things, including -thanks to Beast's eye for advanced technology- a bit of the material the guards had had which blocked Ryder's powers. Beast had what amounted to an educated idea that's what it could do, anyway, and was currently in the midst of understanding it so he could do something with it himself.<br><br>In the meantime, Xavier had been making regular visits to the Danger Room to visit his daughter.<br>And for at least the past week, he had been making mental visits, too. Even in true coma, a mind was still active where the body wasn't.<br><br>He took it slow. Like a new neighbour making themselves known in no greater way than merely being outside, doing things in their own yard. Smiling when they'd catch your eye, but not making an attempt to draw you into conversation. <br><br>Today, Xavier decided to knock politely on the door, as for the first time the curtains hadn't been drawn. He had been able to see a few scenes within the mental "house" -Ryder seemingly going over her days at the Mansion so far.<br><br>They hadn't consisted of much beyond what care someone in her state would require, which was mostly carried out by Jean both because, despite the odd sensations she'd experienced, they felt she was best suited power-wise to be in such a position -a decision Cyclops couldn't argue, though he felt uneasy about each time Jean went in- and because from what Jean understood from the facility, it never seemed like Ryder was dealt with by anyone but males. They thought Jean would feel like a less hostile presence to her. As well, Jean had her level of empathy gained from the knowledge of Ryder's life.<br><br>Her husband's discomfort notwithstanding, Jean took the position willingly and, truth be told, had made similar "visitation attempts" to Xavier's, from a place of wanting to understand this girl. Both her pain, and how she could manage the degree she inflicted on others. That scene in the forest was the very embodiment of blind rage, and Jean wondered how Ryder's mind was processing that; if it even realized. But she had been treading even more carefully than Xavier.<br><br>Xavier was cognizant of Jean "stepping" here, like noticing remnants of footprints on the sidewalk. He had to smile at this. Though, he didn't perceive she had gotten as far as he now had. <br><br>This apparent fact pleased him all the more.</div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways">Writing Sample 3: from Our Mind's Shadowed Hallways [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Cool. Reserved.<br><br>Scott Summers a.k.a. Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, was often misunderstood as not caring when in fact he cared deeply. <br>So serious all the time because nothing was a throw-away to him; everything mattered. <br><br>Chief among it all, Jean Grey.<br><span class="bb-i">The center of his world</span>.<br><br>She had seen something past his dour exterior, had been open enough to receive him that he could open up to her; show a side to her few, maybe only she, knew.<br><br><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Had</span></span>.<br><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Knew</span></span>.<br><br>Everything was changed now. All of their history ceasing to exist in Jean's mind,<br><span class="bb-i">from a series of seemingly insignificant actions which turned into a majorly significant circumstance.</span><br><br>Sometimes Scott felt his entire life was defined this way.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Four people climb into a cockpit. Strap in. Take off. . .</span><br>The next thing he knew he was living as a brain damaged, unwanted orphan.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Three kids get into a fight. One never gets up. One can never go back. . .</span><br>Next thing he knew he was a mutant, and <span class="bb-i">that </span>defined everything about his life going forward.<br><br><span class="bb-i">Was that why. . ?<br><br>Two X-Men undertake a mission. Patrol a sector. Cross an invisible line. . .</span><br>Next thing, he was waking up in the Med Bay, his head feeling. . .<span class="bb-i">strange</span>.<br><br>And Jean woke up feeling he was a stranger.<br><br>She hadn't recognized the X Mansion, yet somehow had vague memories of Charles Xavier, and fractionally remembered the others. Ororo Munroe, Hank McCoy, Logan, etc. somehow she knew them, yet not Storm, The Beast, Wolverine -the X-Men as a whole, her place as one. <br><br>Was that why she remembered nothing of Scott Summers? He didn't know who he was if not Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. <span class="bb-i">But with Jean. . .</span><br>Was this proof he wasn't, in fact, anything else?<br><br>Taken with everything, that couldn't make sense.<br><br>Jean had no memory that she was even a mutant, but it wasn't as simple as saying she lost all memories pertaining to that, if she still recalled everyone else in some way. . <br>. .<span class="bb-i">none</span> of them she would've met had she not been a mutant. Scott needed things to make sense, and so little of this did.<br><br>What had even happened? The other X-Men had been patrolling other sectors. No one saw.<br><br>They had to have been hit by something. . .<br><br>A subsequent probe of the area with Cerebro bore no residual signature of another mutant, no device had been located and with the aforementioned absence of signature, no one could've come to dispose of one.<br><br>. . .Xavier worked out they had in fact <span class="bb-i">encountered</span> something, something that existed on a psychic plain- explaining why Jean was affected so drastically and Cyclops, comparatively nil. <br><br>So what was it? What was this? Coincidental? <span class="bb-i">Planned?</span> Scott's money was on the latter, but then who was behind it? <br>Was this their intended result? <span class="bb-i">Or was there more to the plan he needed to watch out for. . ?</span><br><br>He sighed as he finished crossing the hallways. It was already taking a toll, what he had to deal with in his head. . <br>. .<span class="bb-i">that strange sensation growing stronger. </span><br><br>Which is why Scott now stood outside the presently closed door to Xavier's office.<br>And the voices he heard inside is why he now stood <span class="bb-i">paused</span> outside that door.<br><br>Underway inside, rather, sounding like it had just concluded, was another of Xavier's psychic therapy sessions with Jean. <br>So far there'd been no breaththroughs. . .it didn't sound like one was made this time, either.<br><br>. . .Scott couldn't help eavesdropping.<br><br>He was finding it difficult figuring out how to be around her now. Where to start <span class="bb-i">over</span>.<br>Scott didn't want to get in Jean's way of remembering "herself". Desperate though he was for her to remember "them", he didn't want her to feel pressured to prioritize that. . <br>. .Events had a sequence. It wasn't for him to jump the line.<br><br>That's what he partially convinced himself of, anyway.<br><span class="bb-i">But there was also the matter of. . . . .</span></div></div><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b">X-Men Envisionings: one passionate fan's riff on the FOX <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> franchise.<br>Call it a fanfiction, call it what you will, but <span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-i">don't miss out</span></span>!!</span></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">2nd Edition</span></span></font><font color="#daa06d"> <span class="bb-b">Now Releasing!</span></font><br> <font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">2nd Edition</span></span></font><font color="#0096ff"> <span class="bb-b">Now Releasing!</span></font></div></sub><br><span class="bb-b"><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/193426-x-men-envisionings-a-pragmatic-adaptation-alternate-continuation/ooc" title="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/193426-x-men-envisionings-a-pragmatic-adaptation-alternate-continuation/ooc">roleplayerguild.com/topics/193426-x-m…</a></span><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#daa06d"><span class="bb-i"> Back and</span></font><font color="#0096ff"> <span class="bb-i">better than ever!!</span></font><br><font color="#0096ff"><span class="bb-i">Back and</span></font><font color="#daa06d"> <span class="bb-i">better than ever!!</span></font></div></sub></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="#e5e4e2"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:</span></span></font><br> <font color="#7393b3"><span class="bb-b"><span class="bb-i">Consider becoming an X-Envisioner yourself:</span></span></font></div></sub><br><a href="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators" title="https://telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionings/post/seeking-collaborators" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">telkjplang.wixsite.com/xmenenvisionin…</a></div><br><br><hr class="bb-hr"><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b"><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="blue">The <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> continues to be this e<span class="bb-b">x</span>cellent odyssey</font><br><font color="yellow"> The <span class="bb-i">X-Men</span> continues to be this e<span class="bb-b">x</span>cellent odyssey</font></div></sub><br><sub><div class="bb-h3"><font color="blue"> <span class="bb-i">Where ever it takes me.</span></font><br><font color="yellow"><span class="bb-i">Where ever it takes me.</span></font></div></sub></span></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">X-Men Envisionings</span>, a sector of </span><br><span class="bb-i"><sub><div class="bb-h2"><span class="bb-b"><font color="silver">TechtraColour</font></span><br> <font color="hotpink">Te</font><font color="chartreuse">cht</font><font color="cyan">raC</font><font color="purple">olo</font><font color="hotpink">ur</font></div></sub></span><br><a href="https://trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">trytrip3.wixsite.com/techtracolour</a> <br><br>=================</div><br><br></div>
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