Ruby

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Had some issues with my computer over the weekend, should hopefully be fixed tomorrow. Will try to get my next post up sometime tomorrow night, or, failing that, Wednesday night.

@Simple Unicycle

My sympathies, and I wonder if it's contagious? My laptop died on me last night. lol

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

House of X
Unincorporated Genosha

The morning dawned calm and clear, a warmth in the air suggesting the humidity and heat that would come later in the day at the height of Genosha’s warm season. The House of X was, in truth, no house at all; but a collection of buildings surrounded by tall walls masoned with thousands of smaller stones reinforced into one surface, each building beyond a mixture of modern glass, concrete, and woods native to Africa. Among the tallest structures within the compound resided the X-Men, with one of the tallest suites belonging to the White Queen.

Within the wall of windows stood the reflection of the man behind the blonde woman in white, as she sat curled in a large leather chair aimed at the wilds of the Indian Ocean beyond the shoreline of Genosha and the clear blue waters that rolled upon its white sands. The tone that reached out behind her, towards the man in the reflection, was little more than a placeholder for the normal conviction of the White Queen, “What is it you want this morning, Scott?”

If anything about his facial expression changed, she missed it, crystal blue eyes focusing past the glass, and back into the red and pink morning light hanging in the air above some of the bluest water she had ever seen. His voice came out secure, and cautious, as if he were braving potentially treacherous waters ahead with the thoughtful mind of a strategist, “I’ve heard that tone before from other telepaths.”

She moved her body just so with a tiny turn of her hips and shoulders, delicate not to upset the balance of the steaming mug of flavorful coffee resting in her lap, allowing a more comfortable angle to tilt her head back and turned in his direction, an angle from which to unleash the bright blue eyes that he usually found so beautiful upon his uncovered hair and visored face. “It’s too early in the morning for seductions, Scott.”

“The whites of your eyes are turning red.”

Emma’s unpainted lips set into a tiny frown, her head turning back towards the far-away horizon, her tone changing only with the passing of a soft sigh, “I didn’t sleep very well. Did you come to point out flaws of beauty and underscore your propensity for telepaths, or was there an actual purpose to any of this?”

Much to her absolute irritation, he smiled his pretty smile from behind her. There was little toying with Summers, his mind ran on contingencies and pragmatism. Coming to a rise towards her would accomplish nothing of what he wanted to accomplish concerning her, let alone the rest of his day. Truly, the man could be maddening.

“You have a vengeful heart, sometimes, Ms. Frost. I come in peace; I’m meeting with part of the US Military delegation flying in today. I know you were supposed to meet with Xavier today.”

A slow sip of her coffee, and her voice seemed to smooth, “And how do you know that?”

“I have my sources. I just wanted to say…be careful, there, Emma. I think Charles is up to something. There’s got to be a reason for all his recent trips beyond the diplomacy. At least, a reason for all the secrecy, and we still haven’t seen Douglas show back up since the last trip. And we haven’t seen Gambit since the, uh, ‘disagreement’ between Rogue and he blew up.”

Despite herself, she didn’t sigh again at him, “Are you worried about me, Scott?”

Even without looking with her mind or her eyes, she could hear the warmth in his voice, “Worried about the White Queen? Well, she can take care of herself better than most, but maybe I just wanted an excuse to say good-bye.”

For the first time during the talk, Emma Frost sounded truly invested, “Are you not coming back tonight?”

“I don’t know. But let me know how it goes if you will.”

“Good luck, Scott.”

“You too, Emma,” he said, before making a futile attempt at a furtive escape.

——— ⭙ ———

Genosha International Airport, Pilot’s Club
Outer edges of Hammer Bay, Genosha

Tropical greenery, humid air, and the glow of the bright afternoon sun on miles of concrete stretched out as far as he could see, bordered only by the hint of tall steel security fencing protecting the flightline of the Genoshan International Airport. The sounds of turbo-jet airplane engines and helicopter blades chopping air drifted from the flightline to the interior of the small cement and reinforced glass building that housed the Pilot’s Club on the far side of the airport, away from the main hangars and the only terminal building of the comparatively small international airport.

The flightline sounds mixed with the drifting background music of 60s rock and Motown playing on an old jukebox in a corner of the club’s bar until a door in the exterior wall filled with windows to the outside opened, bringing a high-pitched whine of a high engine spin hundreds of feet away from the building louder than normal into the bar. Scott Summer looked up and smiled, sliding off the barstool and approaching the newcomer wearing the khaki US Navy officer’s working uniform, gold aviation wings and a checkerboard of various ribbons and medals underneath it upon the left breast, the gold oak leaf designating a Lieutenant Commander, and silver aviators on a face framed in a tightly cropped head of short dirty blonde hair.

“Scott, how the fuck are you, man?” The man all but laughed joyously as he came in for a hug, before stepping back and transitioning to a firm handshake.

The man’s attitude was as infectious as it was just plain good to see Jack ‘Solo’ Owens, Scott returning the quick and tight hug, smile, and the handshake before motioning to the barstool next to him. “I’m good, Jack, really can’t complain too much, all things considered. Long way from the orphanage days, huh?”

Jack slid the aviators off and allowed his youthful blue-gray eyes to get a better look at the uniform Scott wore, grinning as he sat down, sliding the sunglasses on the counter in front of him, “I’ll fucking say. Talk about uniforms, man. Superhero Scott Summers. That thing breathable?”

Scott looked down at the navy blue, light blue, accented suit he wore with hanging hood. Even he had to chuckle at it, considering the point of view of the man next to him, “More than you would think, you never know the situation we’ll find ourselves in. How’s that thing? Are those creases really ironed in?” Scott asked, as he motioned the bartender for two beers.

“No,” Jack admitted with a little snicker, “they iron them for sharpness, but the crease is sewn in with something like fishing line, real thin thread.”

“They iron them?”

“Ship’s laundry at sea, dry cleaners at shore. You launder and iron that thing yourself?” Jack asked, taking up the frosted mug of lager the dark-skinned bartender brought them.

Scott took a quick taste before a small shrug, “You know, I do. Our materials aren’t exactly Navy issued, but now that you mention it…we could use a laundering and ironing service ourselves.”

Jack’s expression turned, even as the warmth and shade of a smile stayed at his mouth, his tone became a more somber thing, “I’m sorry to hear about your wife, Scott. She was killed by aliens?”

A stronger, thirsty, drink and Scott was shaking his head, trying not to smirk at how badly informed his old friend was, “Not exactly. Getting your information from SIPRNet or the grocery store checkout?”

Jack’s bark of laughter was a welcome sound even as he laughed through another drink of the beer, “Shit, man, the ol’ SIPRNet doesn’t have much on the X-Men.”

Scott’s smile hollowed as memory hit him; the day his wife gave her tearful farewell, before activating the Kree weapon that ended her life, and the threat of the Dark Phoenix. “She, uh…sacrificed herself to save a lot of lives. A lot of lives.”

Jack stared in some variation of empathy and wonder, clasping a left hand with a wedding band on his shoulder, “I’m so sorry. I tried to reach out when I heard.”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, forcing the smile back to his lips, trying to stay where he was instead of returning to that day, again, “What about you, Jack? How’s Heather? The little one?”

“Oh, shit, dude check this out.” The Navy officer reached into the back pocket of his pants and revealed a wallet, flipping through military ID, civilian driver’s licenses for various countries, he got to the pictures in the wallet; Heather was blonde, beautiful, blue-eyed. Some kind of political staffer on ‘the Hill’ that Jack had met when he was a military liaison officer to a Senator—Scott didn’t ask which one. The little one was a dirty blonde Gerber rascal; a few months shy of two years old.

Mostly, the two traded buying rounds and war stories, most of them centered around flight hours. Jack was a veteran Navy pilot of multiple platforms, and Scott certainly had his questions about everything from the old Prowlers to the F-35s, while Jack was curious about the Blackbird and other smaller jets he’d seen in intelligence and aircraft identification charts—Naval pilots were so constantly trained on being able to spot other types of aircraft in the air that instead of women posted in their state rooms and heads it was pictures of aircraft. By the time the sun was lower in the sky and a darker burnt orange, he'd even heard the origin of Jack’s call-sign ‘Solo.’

“So this Genosha thing is getting serious? Sovereignty at the barrel of a gun?” Jack finally asked.

Scott shook his head, “I’m not fond of it either. It’s not the right way to go about it. We can’t undo what Magneto did, all we can do is try to turn it into something better.”

Jack had to nod as he gave a half-hearted sip to his latest, half finished, beer, “I guess so. Got the Pentagon strategy boys nervous. Conventional and nuclear is one thing, if what I read and hear in the classified briefings is true, Magneto can end the world as we know it by himself? Just screw up our atmosphere. Charles Xavier can enter almost any mind he wants, from anywhere. Ororo Munroe can weaponize weather? These ‘Omega Level’ mutants. Scary fucking shit, Scott. Let me ask you…you renounce your US citizenship?”

Scott’s brows perked, “No, I guess I didn’t.”

Jack stared for a long, longer than usual, hard-buzzed moment before the back of his hand gave a tap to Scott’s nearest arm, “Come on to dinner. I got the Vice Admiral in charge of 7th Fleet, CAG-5 C.O., PacFleet NavInt C.O. Nothing political.”

“I got any enemies in that room, Jack?”

The Naval pilot chuckled, “No more than I do. C’mon, Scott. Come to dinner.”

“What’s our ride?”

Jack laughed, “Hell it’s your country, Scott, you tell me.”

——— ⭙ ———

Hellfire Club - Hammer Bay
Hammer Bay Waterfront, Genosha

The building looked little like the modern architecture of the surrounding Hammer Bay waterfront. Instead, it was surrounded by black iron gates affixed to solid stone pillars, with a security force of mostly veterans from other similar postings, all within the same organization. Here, in the Victorian-era Gothic Revival architecture hall bearing the name ‘Hellfire Club, Hammer Bay’, the White Queen awaited the founder of the X-Men.

Two minutes later than he was scheduled to be, the visitor was announced, Jeffrey led him through the foyer and past the double Palladian door frames and their glasswork doors of the outer parlor. The room opened up to a two-story ceiling resplendent with multiple crystal hung chandeliers, paneled walls of dark green wallpaper, detailed architectural ornament, large volume, and symmetrical decoration with stylish furnishings.

The White Queen was seated near the entrance of the room in a high-backed chair of red leather, knee high boots, white leggings, and a silk blouse with a plunging neckline and cap sleeves; all of it snow white in color. Her hair was straight, shoulder length, with not a hair out of place. In the background the sounds of the second movement of Bedřich Smetana's Má vlast played quietly.

She awaited him with a half-full wine glass hanging from her hand, just off the arm of the leather studded chair, legs crossed and crystal blue eyes unwavering. He approached wearing some black turtleneck, tweed trousers combination. He looked slighter than he ever had before, as if the width of his shoulders was the cost of Shi’ar healing—an observation she kept to herself, for now.

“Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Emma,” the bald man began, though she ignored it, instead her eyes drifting to the thick black rubber and ribbed case he carried by a handle at his side. The smile in which she offered was closer to that of an ‘Ice Queen’ than a ‘White Queen’ but given the times they all had their little sacrifices to make.

“Put it there,” Emma had no notion of what was within his oversized case, yet the comfort she had in ordering him to place it upon the brass legged polished wooden table before her was the same level of comfort most people had lounging on a couch, alone.

Though there was some slight pause, Charles Xavier did, in fact, place the case he carried upon the table she directed him to. “I know there are a lot of questions—”

“—Oh? Are there?” She cut him off with a genuine sounding surprise to her measured tone, even if it was in truth meant to be every bit as condescending as it didn’t sound, “Whatever do you mean, dear Charles?”

Charles Xavier stared blankly. Shit, she could all but hear him thinking. Instead, however, he spoke in firmer tones, “What Erik and I are orchestrating…it must be done very carefully. You are to be one of the first people, when we’re ready, even If before it’s fully ready. Your importance in the endeavor cannot be overstated, Emma, but for now…”

Emma Frost sounded dreadfully bored, and even more unimpressed, “Charles…don’t flatter me. It’s cheap. What have you brought me?”

“Without Jean, you had as much experience with Cerebro as anyone. When we updated to Cerebra, I considered an update to the very structure, but I’ll admit there were struggles. It wasn’t until I got something of a Shi’ar education in some of their technical processes that the answers were clear. With Erik’s help in the incredibly precise construction, we were able to produce an update.” Xavier leaned over as he clicked each lock of the case open, opening the case and turning it around in one motion, presenting Emma with a…helmet.

“It’s…hideous.”

Xavier blinked up at the White Queen, again, “It’s a mobile Cerebra. Each helmet is connected to the same psychic-digitized system. If anything were to happen, either to me, or cut off communication, whatever the worst cases are…it would be important you have one, as the only other telepath within our movement with the skill and experience to operate it.”

Emma Frost took a long sip of the wine glass and tilted her head at Xavier in confusion. “You think this answers anything? The others can talk of secret trips. They can talk of missing mutants—”

“—no one is missing, Emma—”

“—I’m not talking about any of that, Charles. Care who you’re speaking to. I see what you’ve been doing. The acquisitions. The reorganizations. Oh, you can try to hide behind your shell companies and your fronts, Charles, but don’t for a second think any of that obfuscates your moves. I see the board. My advice: should you require my assistance as badly as you say? Do hurry with your truth telling.” The glass was finished, and placed gently next to the open case, as she stood and simply walked out of the room. “Jeffrey will see you out.”

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

...ok.

Anyway, second character is ready for review.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I'll post whenever TF I want. :)

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Those mfin' X-Men

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

X - M E N

---

^{_{C Y C L O P S ⭙ S T O R M ⭙ N I G H T C R A W L E R ⭙ B E A S T
R O G U E ⭙ W H I T E Q U E E N ⭙ M A G I K ⭙ S Y N C H}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T

---

^{"While you slept, the world changed."}

Charles Xavier had a dream that humans and mutants could live in peace, together, to shape a brave new future. A time when prejudice will be defeated, a vision for what could be that even Charles would admit is far greater than himself. Charles champions every person's uniqueness, setting aside differences such as race, sexuality, or mutantcy. Because the world has never been one in which his dream has yet to become reality, Charles understood there were places and moments when mutants would have to fight and sacrifice for that dream. After graduating Oxford, after fighting in the Korean War and coming face to face with the nefarious Shadow King, Xavier resolved to lead the effort to protect humanity from those like him that failed to share his hopes for the future. To that end, Charles Xavier created the first team of the X-Men to champion every soul on the planet.

Xavier and his partner Erik Lensherr would create Cerebro, a machine designed to detect and monitor mutant brain waves, to help locate mutants of all kinds and affiliations. What began as a handful of teenagers in training would eventually become a large, diverse, roster of mutants forming various teams all with the ultimate goal of fighting for Xavier's vision. When the first time would find itself captured and cut off by the living island of Krakoa, Charles would ready a new generation of X-Men with the likes of Wolverine, Storm, and Colossus. The original five were returned, and the new X-Men mostly stuck around to continue on with the struggle. Whether fighting extremists from their own mutantkind, or extremists from humankind, the X-Men and their various teams would remain the vanguard for the vision of peaceful co-existence and shared progress.

In time, Xavier would expand the Xavier Institute for the Gifted along with each new generation and new team. His efforts, and the efforts of his disciples, would extend from education to business to political organization to legal activism. If there was a front on which to fight for his prophetic words towards the future of the world, there would be X-Men and their allies to wage that fight. The Xavier Institute would be destroyed, and rebuilt, many times. The various X-teams would call locations around the globe, and into space, home at one point or another.

Yet despite it all, the forces of fear and prejudice of humanity would time and time again be their greatest foe. Whether in the form of a firebrand politician quick to scapegoat the mutant population, or the robotic mutant hunters known as the Sentinels, or para-military anti-mutant organizations on nearly every continent on the globe. The X-Men would be there for old and new mutant alike, from the scared and unable to control their powers, to the veteran mutant grown world weary and isolated. When the world would need heroes of every cut and stripe in order to save the world, or even the universe, the X-Men and their allies would always answer the call.

Their losses, however, have begun to mount in recent years. Charles Xavier, himself, was thought dead for years as he took refuge on alien worlds to heal and recover from a lifetime of conflict and crusade. The very first of Xavier's students, Jean Grey, would give her life to save the universe from a Phoenix Force that she could not control in the moment. When the Xavier family mansion was once again destroyed this time by ancient mutant Apocalypse and his Horsemen, and with it attached Xavier Institute and modernized Jean Grey School for the Gifted led by none other than long time enemy turned part time ally Magneto. Though an Age of Apocalypse was averted, new homes were needed.

The official new training academy and school for young mutants is the new Institute for Gifted Youngsters, on the outskirts of Genosha's capital city, Hammer Bay. While Xavier's Mansion is mostly a husk of its former self, it's rumored the subterranean levels are one of the bases of operations for the current day iteration of the X-Men, along with several other sites; an island recently gifted to mutants by the Mayor of San Francisco off the coast of the city, an unnamed and secret outpost in the Australian Outback, and the remains of Asteroid-M in a high orbit of Earth. There is a facility on Genosha known only as the House of X, technically said to be another operating base for various X-teams, including the X-Men. There are even whispers of a base hidden within the unexplored and unconfirmed Savage Land that it sometimes used by the mutant team.

Recently Xavier has returned to Earth, refreshed, and healed so fully he is said to once again have the use of his legs, having joined the leading body of the mutant nation of Genosha at the side of his long time friend and rival, Magneto. Xavier has yet to hold an audience with any human officials, or make any public appearance on Genosha, and even the world's best spy agencies can only report he took a short trip to somewhere in the Pacific with Douglas Ramsey recently before a quick return to Genosha. On Genosha, itself, there is wild talk throughout the mutant population of nearly sixteen million, though details vary wildly and many accounts seem at odds with each other, there is one reoccurring theme to all of it:

Xavier lied.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S

---

^{"My family has spent our entire lives being hunted and hated. The world has told me that I was less when I knew I was more.
Did you honestly think that we were going to sit around forever and just take it?"}

Survival, and what happens when a long held dream is declared irrelevant by both sides. What new conflicts emerge? What new ventures are born? What dream comes on the heels of the one you have been so thoroughly awoken from? This is the story of where you go from there, and what new beginnings come from the end of the long held, often fought over, status quo. More than anything, exploring the areas of gray in a reality where the right answer isn't readily available anymore, leaving everyone involved with hard decisions to make.

While mutantkind may have to change, the X-Men will remain the X-Men: champions of love and compassion and tolerance, ready to fight for humans and mutants alike against foes that simple vigilantes and individual heroes could not hope to overcome alone. The fun of the tale comes in the telling, and the natural progression that comes with the story unfolding. That makes this team, and the greater narrative of the mutantkind they represent, so exciting to dig into one post at a time, one event at a time. We may know the note we want the mutant story to end off on, the destination we want to eventually reach in character, but the journey is likely have a surprise or two waiting for us.

And that's just way too exciting, given this group of characters.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S

---

Charles Xavier

Naturally, it starts with him. While still the leader, in spirit, Charles will be just as busy dealing with a future for all mutants as he will dealing with the X-Men and the various off-shooting teams. Will he be able to work with Magneto? Can some sort of foundation for the future be laid out? It's true he won't be a scene stealer or an every moment kind of presence, the shadow of Charles Xavier will always loom large over a story involving the X-Men and the mutants that comprise them.

Cyclops

Slim has experienced a lot over the last decade or so, and lost just as much as he's gained. He's been married twice, met several time displaced children, and has tried to be everything the X-Men, and mutants as a whole, have needed him to be. The man is tired, and in need of a change. In a move that came as a surprise to some in the mutant, and hero, populations Cyclops will not be the field leader of the X-Men this time around. Instead he focuses on just being a good solider and a good defender of the new mutant nation of Genosha, even if he's been at odds with Magneto about the way Genosha went about it's origin since he stepped foot on the island. He was most often spotted touring Genoshan island defenses, and was said to be one of the ones to welcome Xavier back to Earth upon the Professor's arrival.

Storm

Love and life outside the trials of the X-Men seemed to fit Ororo, until it didn't. When Apocalypse and his Horsemen attacked Westchester, New York, she wasn't present and instead back on her home continent of Africa. Maybe it was guilt that forced her back to the fray, maybe it was a duty to her people, or just that she missed old friends...whatever the reason no one who's ever served on a team with the mutant known as Storm was surprised to learn she would lead the new iteration of the X-Men instead of Cyclops. She has co-led X-Men teams in the past, even led her own sub-units of the team, and all with success and distinction. That she has returned and jumped back into the fray has given many mutants hope in the future of the team.

Emma Frost

The White Queen of the Hellfire Club is, to some, an odd choice for the X-Men. Some believe she joined recently, when the team was re-organized in Genosha. In truth, Emma Frost has been with the team for longer than that, and was one of the few who kept the line during the attack by Apocalypse and his Horsemen on the Xavier Institute. In the wake of Jean Grey's death, Emma Frost has helped fill the avoid of resident telepath, though her secondary mutation was just as useful in the fight that brought the school down, as she acted heroically in the line of fire to give students time to evacuate. She then personally oversaw and funded the efforts to get every single student to the new school in Hammer Bay. Though she would prefer if you didn't overly romanticize her actions during the battle, she finds such hyperbole the practice of the feeble minded and ignorant.

Rogue

Few have had a harder time fitting into Genosha than Rogue. First there was a very, very public confrontation with Mystique that made every media outlet on the island and instantly went viral on the mutant verified social media network, X-Verse. Then a rumored, and often gossiped about, private feud with Magneto himself. Both of these were small compared to the drama of the island's favorite on-again, off-again romance: Rogue and Gambit. The latest, and loudest, was the actual coming to blows between a group of former Xavier students and former Brotherhood members, with Rogue and Gambit having been reported as the start of the entire episode outside Hammer Bay. It's been very clear that Rogue and the X-Men took off from Genosha right after this incident. The Southern girl just can't seem to catch a break, sugah.

Beast

Dr. McCoy has been almost a ghost. Save for one of the cooler heads trying to prevail in the recent rumble between former Xavier students and former Brotherhood members, there has been little to no sighting of the blue furball. While not as prevalent as the still trending #WhereIsWolverine, #FreeTheBeast trended long enough for the meme-minded to begin trending the follow-up #DicksOutForBeast. Actual news media based on Genosha quickly confirmed Dr. McCoy was still alive following the Battle of Westchester, leading Beast to register for X-Verse himself, and immediately ask for the distasteful memes to be set aside, along with several posts quoting literature, including the first: "I exist as I am, that is enough. - Walt Whitman." Given the massive wave of Harambe inspired meme responses, Dr. McCoy has returned to relative silence. Rumors are he's been hard at work on something with the mutant Sage, at the direction of Xavier, instead of joining the X-Men on their latest exit from Genosha.

Nightcrawler

One of the heroes of the Battle of Westchester, the toll taken on the blue-skinned teleporter was heavy. Though he spent most of the time since the battle recovering, the little time he has been on his feet again was spent touring Genosha and meeting with countless residents of the mutant nation. Many seem to consider Nightcrawler to be the spiritual leader of mutantkind, though that sentiment is less among those mutants who favored Magneto's vision for mutantkind of Xavier's vision for mutantkind. According to Sage, Nightcrawler is the most selfie'd member of the X-Men, with a nearly endless stream of Genosha citizens posting selfies with Nightcrawler. The pace of his touring and spiritual activism seemed to slow once Xavier returned, and there is talk the Professor and Nightcrawler have had some sort of falling out. Nightcrawler was confirmed as one of the X-Men that recently left Genosha by Genoshan news media.

Synch

Evertt Thomas is more popular than he's comfortable with. Synch had a lot to do with the defense of students at the Battle of Westchester, and before that was already a known face in helping to establish a society on Genosha, to the point where none less than Magneto extended him the offer of becoming a government official: Synch turned it down. It wasn't really his style, and anyway, he was still getting used to having a life again. The circumstances of his new life remain mysterious, and he believes it has something to do with the Phoenix Force and Jean Grey, though that has more to do with dreams than objective fact. He was content to wander until he eventually found a place, until that place seemed to find him: Cyclops offered him a spot on the X-Men. Who turns down a spot on the X-Men? Maybe someone, but not Synch. Not this time. This time, he's determined to make the most of his new life that he can.

Magik

Where Magik has been, what Magik has been doing, has been hard for many to say. Many accounts have her as a breakout hero at the Battle of Westchester, though since then there has been little talk on the sword-wielder. Maybe in Limbo, she has been rumored to have visited various magicians around the world, but the most official news has been the most recent: Illyana Rasputin has joined the X-Men. There were rumors when she was seen alongside Cyclops at various Genoshan military installations along the island coast, but no less than Magik herself confirmed her status with the X-Men at a bar in Carrion Cove, before smashing more than a few mugs and being seen in a few pictures in the midst of a rowdy night with former New Mutants' teammates. Few X-Men experts seem to agree on whether Magik will prove boon or bust as a member of the X-Men, none other than Cyclops was recently quoted as very excited that the blonde hellspawn had agreed to take a roster spot on the active X-Men team.

S A M P L E P O S T

---

Post 0

"...what is there to think about? Do you not want to?"

If he could have tripped over his own words, he probably would have. If anyone was practiced at slowing down and making sure the moment didn't get too fast, or too big, for them it was him; Scott Summers had spent more than his fair share of life in moments that easily could have gotten too big, or become too much. Even if he had been surprised, and surely, he had been surprised, it wasn't enough to leave him unsure, let alone flustered. Yet there was an excitement to it, and he only wished there also wasn't a unshakeable weight of guilt that hung over him at the same time. "It's not that, I do. Oh, I really do, it's just..."

The blonde woman staring him just seemed to know. Maybe it was the telepathy, he doubted it, maybe it was just that sixth sense about people and behavior that telepaths seemed to Scott to have, having spent so much of their time in the thoughts of others. Whatever it was, Emma Frost knew. And instead of anger, she just...smirked at him, amused.

"I'm sorry, is this amusing to you?"

The White Queen laughed, loudly, "Yes," she barely got out, nodding her head, "it really is." It didn't take the woman long to regain control and suppress to laughter back to that impossibly smug smirk, "What else is it supposed to be, Scott? There are two options: she's either dead, and you're incapable of moving on, which while some level of pathetic is at least...no, no it's just sad." Again, she stifled laughter in such a way it almost sounded like a giggle. "Or, best case, she's too busy somewhere playing multiversal godling, and you can't move on. Also pathetic."

She would have laughed again, had her back not pressed, hard, against the wall. Instead of laugh came a sudden, sharp, inhale and the barest sound of discomfort as Scott found himself pressing his body into her's...the smell of jasmine, his head swam, his heart racing, if it wasn't for that smell...a perfectly shaped brow perked at him from the woman's face, intrigue finally hitting her features.

Then, of course, the knock on the door came. He peeled off, and she straightened the leather bodice she wore under the white blazer he thought felt like silk, but what did he know about high fashion? It was probably cotton, or wool, or some wildly expensive thing. "Yeah?"

It was the bald, dark skinned Everett Thomas that poked his head in, before stepping all the way through and closing the door behind him. "Sorry to interrupt--"

"--oh," Emma Frost began, with renewed amusement, "you aren't."

Synch moved his gaze from Frost, to Summers, to Frost, to Summers. For some reason, in some way, the man didn't quite seem to buy that. "...cool. Yeah, uh, Storm told me to come tell you both to get a move on."

Scott sounded tense, still, "We'll be there in a moment. Thanks, Everett."

"Okay, 'cuz...she's pretty drunk."

Emma Frost sighed. "Which one?"

"The one who keeps calling me honey."

After a shared look, Scott felt a chuckle shake the weight off him in the moment, even if just slightly. Across the cement motor pool, from the hangar, he heard the southern drawl of the calling siren. His lips pursed, and his head nodded, as he came to terms with the situation. "Okay, Rogue is drunk. Storm?"

Synch's head teetered this way-and that, before straightening again as his mind mulled it over, "Well...Kurt's doing what he can."

"What about the other one?" Emma stepped in, arms suddenly crossed, "the demon one?"

"Oh," Synch's eyes widened just slightly from recognition of who Emma meant, before breaking into a relaxed smile, "yeah, Illyana? Yeah, you know, she's just smashing glasses and asking if I want to see her sword every other minute. Totally fine, totally normal."

"My God..." Emma Frost sighed louder as her high-heel booted feet sounded with heavy thuds as she marched out of the pre-fabricated office across from the flightline on the far edge of the Genoshan military base. "I'm gonna--"

"--yeah," Scott responded, too quickly.

Emma paused at the door, just long enough to linger a look his direction as he was staring at the ground, "You gonna--"

"--oh yeah," he said, raising his head to meet her look, "Right now. C'mon, Synch, let me show you how to handle a drunken super-powered Southern woman with a tough exterior and broken heart she refuses to accept."

"Really, Cyclops," Synch closed his eyes for a beat of his heart, doing everything in his power to make sure his face conveyed the genuine, deep-felt, sarcasm of his voice, "Really, really grateful for this invite to the X-Men. I can't begin to tell you. So much."

"You betcha, Everett."

Emma was back to smirked, standing just outside the door, letting Scott and Synch go ahead of her, in no small part so she could enjoy the pain on Scott's face. "I think I like this Everett Thomas, Scott."

P O S T C A T A L O G

---

Coming Soon.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

2nd Character. Go ahead, peek now.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

H U N T R E S S

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^{_{H E L E N A B E R T I N E L L I ✝ C E O ✝ L O S A N G E L E S ✝ I N D E P E N D E N T}}

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T

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^{"I will fill your mountains with the dead. Your hills, your valleys, and your streams will be filled with people slaughtered by the sword."}

Helena Bertinelli was born a princess in a Mafia Empire she blissfully knew nothing of. She knew her parents loved her, and her family loved to get together at her father's house. They would descend their home in Gotham Heights to see musicals in the city, or go to the zoo, or the circus, or the museums to see the dinosaur bones. It was a happy childhood, until the day cruel men in black masks kidnapped her right after school ended at Saint Sebastian’s in the Heights.

What exactly happened to Helena is hard to work out. Police reports suggest various mental and physical traumas, but Don Bertinelli pulled whatever strings necessary to ensure no one would examine his baby girl and put that filth on a report any of his enemies could pay some clerk to get ahold of. Her father told her to put it behind her, that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger” and encouraged her not to speak of it again.

Not even a year later, a van full of masked gunmen burst into the Bertinelli estate in Gotham Heights, and murdered every living member of the Gotham City Bertinelli family. All except the little girl too numb to be scared; without fear little Helena could think, slipping under the corpse of a still bleeding uncle. Immediately after Helena was returned to the Sicilian Bertinelli clan, the "mother clan" there was talk of marrying Helena off to a distant cousin, or a rapid riser in the Sicilian scene. It was then one of the greatest assassins of the early 20th century, Giovanni Bertinelli, took Helena with him one early morning to hunt fowl.

Giovanni would later admit perhaps he was pushing himself to find something when he took the girl hunting that morning. His own parents had been murdered in a war within the Cosa Nostra. He knew that drive for vengeance. Just as much as he knew a natural born killer when he saw one; and in Helena, he saw it in spades. Helena Bertinelli had no childhood after that day. Her training began immediately and unrestricted. She holds degrees in various engineering specialties and economics, with post-graduate degrees from the London School of Economics. She achieved this by the age of 22 while receiving training in secret from Giovanni and Lady Shiva.

Where her father was a quick minded and ruthless businessman and Don, Helena had become a true master in the art and science of international business. Helena leveraged family wealth inherited from her father, and uncle, and bought failing and crumbling business after failing and crumbling business only to turn downsize, raise product quality, and worker efficiency...and in turn cost efficiency of the bottom line. Sometimes called a 'corporate terrorist', the result was nearly inevitable, what businesses would assist her the most in her ultimate goals were kept while all others were sold off piece by piece to the highest bidder.

When Helena Bertinelli returned to America it was on the cover of Business Week and being covered by Bloomberg and CNBC as a Private Equity darling. Using the ultimate power broker of money, Helena used to the fact that she could make more of it than anyone else available to usher her return to not only the Gotham Mafia, but to the American Mafia as a whole. Now the majority owner but never direct manager of multi corporations, Helena has turned her focus squarely on the Mafia...and her quest to ruin it from the inside-out.

Taking on the missiongiven to her by God the day she played dead under the corpse of an uncle, Helena has decided a theatrical method of hitting the Mafia from the outside while secretly exposing and bleeding them from the inside by taking on the mantle of a former feared and dangerous enemy of the Mafia: The Huntress.

She is neither villain or hero, merely a very dangerous and resourceful young woman on a fanatical quest for blood and revenge. A quest that can only end in her own death or the death of the American Mafia as it is known or had ever been known. A fact she has willingly accepted.

C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S

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Reaching six years into the past to bring out a favorite character concept for me in this ultra-violent, ultra-driven, vision of Helena Bertinelli. I always loved the idea that a vigilante character with a Mafia dynasty background actually actively uses that part of their background as part of their crusade against crime. Whether it's weaponizing her checkbook, leveraging private business firm acquisition, or utilizing the skill and training given to her over time, this character truly cares about revenge more than anything.

I'm going to play with that a little for this go-round with the character. Introducing a partner in crime, having her start to engage more with the communities she's stalking and make her face the choice of justice over revenge, even giving her the (albeit dim) possibility of a life after revenge. She's also not starting in Gotham City, this time, and instead opening her war on the American Mafia in Los Angeles. Probably swing her to Gotham City in time, but whether that's even full time or just to make hits, kind of up in the air right now. We know how crowded Gotham can get in games.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S

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Avio International

Avio International is a private partnership focused solely on private equity. The firm has over 20 years of experience in growth investing, building world-class businesses around the globe. Avio International applies a thesis-driven approach to investing across a variety of sectors and geographies. The firm has developed domain expertise in Consumer, Energy, Financial Services, Healthcare, Industrial & Business Services, Aerospace, Defense, Real Estate, and Technology.

Avio has grown to employ nearly a thousand people globally, including their brand new location in Gotham City. Though Helena Bertinelli is the Managing Partner, her much older and Wall Street veteran partner, Hans Stoerner, is said to have taken a more direct role recently as Helena has moved to Los Angeles and focused on other ventures.

Vera Estes

Although some would simply call her a content creator because of the gold YouTube play button award sitting on a shelf in her home office, the channel it was awarded for is mostly a mix of filmmaking and journalism. Combining a lifelong love of photography, with an upbringing in videography, an education in investigative journalism from USC, and a knack for turning traditional news broadcasting on it's head has turned Vera into a digital age star journalist, free from the editorial constraints and corporate interference most traditional reporters deal with. Ask her, and she'll say she just makes videos. Though a vast over-simplification meant to disarm, it would be unlike Vera to pass on an opportunity to poke a little fun at herself.

Given this resume, and a pretty face, more than a few networks have attempted to lure Vera into their employ but her independence in picking her topics, and more importantly what she says about them, has been too valuable for her to accept any offers. Though they both tried to keep it private as long as possible, one too many pictures have been taken of Vera and Helena Bertinelli together for social media, and traditional media, to not have called out their romance...though neither will officially admit to anything.

Henry Bennett

There wasn't much left for Henry Bennett after the Army. There was a wife, but that...soured. He doesn't really blame her, and though she may blame him, it's not Henry's place to say just how right or wrong the crazy bitch is. Wait until you're grown-up to find your spouse, kids, is pretty much where Henry would leave the topic. His career in Law Enforcement wasn't awful, and there were certainly some really big highlights, but problem with Henry Bennett, according to Henry Bennett, is that he can't stand bullshit. Got no patience for it, and never did sit well with lying.

So instead of play-ball for his department supervisors when things went twisted and sideways, Henry told the truth. That evidence was planted and he got burned, well, never really did surprise Henry all that much. He took a few more law enforcement jobs, but history always had a way of catching up with him. He caught a break when an old Army pal started a management company in LA, but it wasn't really work he enjoyed, and he'd rather live out a shitty apartment and eat bad microwaveable food if it meant he could run his own private investigation firm...at least it was honest.

He never got the chance, though, when his last gig for the 'solving rich folk problems' management firm job introduced him to Helena Bertinelli. Long story short, crazy as the woman might be, Henry found something unexpected in Helena: a similar soul. Henry quickly said seeya to his old Army pal's business, and went to work 'security and investigations' for Helena's personal security. Her actual security team hates him, but they rarely see him, and he rarely sees them. So fuck 'em.

Omar Raheem

A Black, Muslim, community oriented young man with a day job of owning a comic book store. Friends and family tend to think of Omar as a bit of a stick in the mud, but less for his propensity for introversion and social anxiety, and more for his intractable morality. Crime is a problem in his valley neighborhood that's become more than the street gangs that Omar grew up with. This shit is organized, and deadly. It would have killed him, too, if not for the—and he can't believe he's saying this shit—for the cape that saved his life. Yeah, heroes aren't science fiction in the world, but they don't haunt his side of town, or come to think of, LA much at all.

Then again, this chick ain't no hero. So Omar has cancelled his plans to move back to Gotham City and take care of his aging father for now, his older sister has handled for a while and can handle for a while more, so long as it means Omar can make his neighborhood a better place for his nephew and nieces and his younger sister from LA. Well, he and this crazy cape chick.

S A M P L E P O S T

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"THE BRUISES!"

The girl's gasp was deep-seated and heavy with shock, as Vera tossed the Fire Stick remote to the side and threw sheets off their bodies, crawling over Helena's near naked body and pushing at the side of the larger woman, determined to get a better look in the morning light shining in from the bedroom's wall of glass facing the Pacific. "Um, ow." Helena's brows furrowed in irritation, between the two reactions there was enough to deter the smaller girl from continuing to push and prod, instead Vera just went from her knees to sitting the weight of her body on her ankles and feet, a hand brushing her long brown hair from her face and behind her shoulder as her light brown eyes gave the mother of all worried looks.

"Hel, lover, baby...when you do this MMA training, do you ever hit THEM...or do they just pummel you for a few hours?"

Helena's chuckled response was equal measures low, and pained. The night before came back in flashes of memory: the shithead with the SMG actually, somehow, surprising her. He'd barely gotten a second of trigger pressure before she'd ushered him into night-night land, and her back plate armor had held, but the bruises were impressive—even she had to admit admiring them in the mirror for a few minutes. To no surprise, Vera was far less impressed with the damage her body had taken than she, herself, was.

"It looks more like paint-ball damage. Are you doing that simulated airsoft gun combat gaming, again?"

Shit. Helena snorted, and flew off the bed. The upside of Vera's mind was Helena wasn't bored, ever, and they could talk on nearly any subject for hours, upon hours. The downside was lying became a more difficult game than she would have liked. Chads and bimbos were fun sexual distractions and never asked too many questions, whereas Vera...

"Okay, I'm JUST saying, maybe remind them your billion dollar ass is worth not trying to kill in a ring?"

Helena gave a slight hop as she tugged her jeans on, and buttoned them, staring at the girl as her face melted into a small grin. "And yet every time I remind my girlfriend about my wealthy ass, she doesn't seem inclined to give me any leeway."

Vera's return grin was instinct, and far, far more devilish in nature, the deep tones of a groan echoing in the otherwise higher pitched melodic voice of the girl as she leaned her body forward and crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching out with her hands to Helena's waist, and pulling, "God I just want to bite that ass and kiss every inch of your—"

"—food?"

Vera stopped, instantly, and nodded, using Helena's hips to support her weight as she got off the bed. "I'll get dressed, maybe, definitely, take a shower. Won't take but a minute."

"Oh what the fuck ever..." Her eyes rolled as she threw on the dark blue linen loose linen blouse and made her way barefoot out of the room and down the stairs. Henry stood up the moment from the far side of the grey sectional as she entered the sunken floor den of the Malibu beachside property. She was busy with a hair-tie and her hair as her dark eyes stared the private eye down.

"Sorry, but it couldn't wait. Last night has caused a lot of waves."

She was casual, walking across the room as she finished the ponytail and rounding the near side of the sectional, taking a seat as she reached out for slip-on flats, "Every night causes waves, Henry."

"Sure," he allowed, yet the apprehension in his voice didn't seem to calm, "but most nights we don't have Diego Assante fly into town." While the fact brought anxious dread to Henry, Helena couldn't help but smile. "And that fact excites you, I see, holy shit you're insane. Are you suicidal?"

Impish as it was casual, her eyes reflected the smile on her lips, and her shoulders shrugged, "Henry..."

"I know, I know. Yes. Yes you're fucking suicidality insane."

Vera's voice was sounded from stairs as she fussed at damp hair, this time wearing more than Victoria's Secret, but a purple tank top and black leggings with Nike's in a matching purple to the tank top, her eyes taking in the scene she found, "Good morning, Henry. Are you scolding her for MMA, too?"

Henry's face became a sudden downward slant of brows, and flattened mouth, as stern worry became a mask her threw on, "Oh, yeah. Can you believe how careless she is? How fucked would I be without her paychecks clearing?"

Vera smiled, and sweetly, "You're a bad liar, Henry. Shall we get breakfast, Helena?"

P O S T C A T A L O G

---

WIP.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

He spent an hour getting ready. From the laying out of clothes on his bed, to the shower, to the shave. He stood sideways, in profile, in the face of the bathroom mirror on the fuzzy bathroom rug. Sucked in, smiled, winked...let the air and his gut out. It could've been worse, he thought to himself. New boot cut dark blue jeans. tailored with a widening waist to fit since the clowns at Calvin Klein didn't sell a reasonable size, dry-cleaned cerulean shaded button up that he tucked in, pulled out...turned his body left, right, and tucked it in again. A deep, introspective sigh followed a long stare of his brown eyes at his image in the bathroom mirror.

"...definitely out, yeah. It's cooler."

The navy blue blazer was a little tight in the shoulders, but not enough to really be noticeable, as he checked in the mirror. Bringing his arms forward, relaxing them, forward, relaxed...a quick, self-affirming nod, and his wide hips bobbed back and forth as the music beat in his head filled his heart as he wet his comb and slicked his light brown hair. Outside the shade of the start of a second chin, he smiled big and finger-gunned himself in the mirror, because he was looking pretty slick, even if he said so himself. And he did:

"Lookin' pretty slick, Donnie."

He had a whistle on his lips from his apartment building on the outskirts of downtown to the year old silver Corvette with the custom plate: 'BRDCRTFD.' It wasn't the longest drive from his building to the Uptown Ritz-Carlton, but that didn't stop him from blasting the slick jams of Foreigner and singing at the top of his lungs as he cruised into Uptown: "I'M A DIRTY WHITE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!"

At the hotel valet, there was a little hitch in his step as he got of the car and tossed the key FOB. There a wince and a quick recovery as the key went past the valet, who just watched it fly by. "Heh, sorry, hoss." He was quick to bend and get it, and even quicker to start the beat in his head again as he bobbed his head and surveyed the scene of the Ritz-Carlton. Some olds, some biz bros, and...he smiled, giving a head's up nod to a fox in a red dress. Her face twisted at the sight, and he felt himself tense, but chuckled it off, "Married chicks, oops."

There was no ring on the woman's hand.

"Nice car."

"Thanks," was the instinctive response as he headed in for the steak house, before he turned his head and saw the person who had said it. He stopped, his smile becoming more of a Brad Pitt half-smile, in his head. Red dress had been a fox, the woman who stood next to the door, waiting on something or someone, was something else entirely: she was super model hot. Wavy brown hair that shined in the overhead light, the dress she wore was tight...like, tight, a cool chick's kind of black leather jacket on over it from the waist up, those kind of hot high heels that were all straps and a diamond buckle, dangly glittery earrings, whatever kind the woman called those. She looked like she didn't wear makeup. Maybe a little, but not a lot, or anything. "You know, it's just my ride. I was gonna go Porsche, but...American-made kinda guy." His brain corrected immediately, "American-made man, type."

"C8 Z06?"

He...blinked, "Uh, yeah."

The hottest grin he'd ever seen spread across her lips. "6,300 rpm, LT6 engine, double overhead camshaft, flat-plane crank...hell of a machine. Not too much for you?"

It took him a second, but just barely, his brows slanting as his features matched the expression of his words, "Shhiiiiit, no way, American-made man."

Her eyes twinkled, her mouth full of perfect white teeth starting to curl into a smile along the corners. Her dental hygiene looked immaculate. She was totally into him, the car definitely worked, he told himself. "The custom plate?"

"Oh? Hell yeah, Board Certified. I'm, uh..." He lowered the volume of his voice, as not to flaunt it, "I'm a Doctor. A Dental Doctor." She laughed, because he was putting on his humorous charm.

"Good luck in there, Board Certified."

"You know it," he said, even though, he wasn't sure why he said it as he walked in. Probably should have said something else? Like...I'll talk to YOU later. Maybe, see you later for a ride, honey. Instead he floated towards the elevator, and floated out to the steakhouse entrance, ready to get his date started. He got there first, grabbing the table, sending Heather a text through the dating app, and ordering himself a drink. One drink, some fancy bread to start with, a table with a line of sight on the hostess podium for when Heather came in.

Two drinks. Another basket of bread. Two more texts through the dating app, none answered. "Way to go, Donnie." He ordered a steak, medium rare, not even sure why? Did he even like medium rare? Wasn't that just what they all ordered in the movies? He soured more than the third drink, the whiskey sour, and paid the bill, ignoring the overly nice waiter, who was just being nice because how lousy Donnie's night had become. The energy and the music were gone, his shoulders slumped, and he was pretty sure he'd have pit stains the next day. The refuge was the hotel bar, and the fourth whiskey.

"Hey Board Certified."

His heart leapt out of his chest at the very smell of her; like wildflowers, but sweeter, softer. Warmer. He forced energy and a smile on his face, "Oh, hey. I just came for a drink after my, uh, business dinner. Y'know, Doctor things." The look of her, the purse in her hand, fact she had been walking for the door... "You headed home? Night's just getting started. Could go for a ride?"

Her grin made him feel like he was on fire. In a good way. "Yeah? How many drinks is that for you, Doc?"

He forced himself to laugh, "Hey, I can handle my whiskey, little lady." Little lady? What the hell was that, Donnie?" But...she was considering it? She watched him for what felt to him like an eternity, obviously considering the ride. "Could be fun, yeah?"

Her eyes looked up, bounced to the left, then the right, as she considered. "Better idea. I'm headed up to my room, but I'm definitely looking for a ride."

What? "What?" He swallowed, hard, "I mean, yeah, let's have a..." What would Bond say? "...nightcap."

He paid the bill for the fourth whiskey, and downed it, quick, worrying anew about the pit stains he knew were there. They were half-way into the finer details of his being a five star reviewed Dental Doctor on Google when she slid the key in and out of the lock to her suite door, opening it to allow him in. He floated in and turned the corner to the main room, before just...blinking.

"What the fu...?" The man wore black tactical pants, boots, and a long sleeve shirt as he sat in the chair across the main sitting room of the suite, the gun across his lap the most obvious thing that he saw.

"Donald Trask?"

He turned to look at the woman he never even got the name of, only to be met with blackness as something hard as steel hit the back of his head from behind, the last thing he remembered seeing was the carpeted floor of the suite rushing up to fill his vision before it all went dark.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Ruby>

@Lord Wraith

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Ruby>

@Lord Wraith

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Ruby>

@Lord Wraith