X-Men: Darkest Days

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

"Wellllllll....." Ashley began, drawing out the word way longer than normal, she reached over the table, her head moving closer to Dallas. "Maybe we could um....improvise?" :3

 

Gahhhh, you're overdoing it Ashley! And that eclair is about to get crushed by my belly button! XD

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

...

 

"I swear to God that you're on so many drugs, it would literally rip my mind to shreds trying to name just a tenth of them."

 

Ashley blinked in surprise, and in that time Dallas took the initiative to prop himself up on the table, lean in, and kiss her.

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Wait there are more drugs besides caff- ​Her thoughts were silenced as Dallas leaned in and kissed her. Her heart fluttered, and then went to catch butterflies.

 

When they finally needed to breathe and they broken the kiss, Ashley leaned back, looking awestruck. "Wow...that was..." Her eyes went straight down to the large plate if the single eclair still sitting on it. "Wait a second!" She said, sounding alarmed. "That eclair, how did it get there!? I swear I ate it..." Now she looked dumbstruck.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dallas looked at the eclair (which had, of course, never moved from its prior position) and then back up at Ashley, eyebrows furrowing together in a light dashing of confusion.

 

"Err...you never touched it, Ashley."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

"Yes I did! It must have been magic!" Ashley exclaimed, still convinced she ate it despite the fact that it was still on the plate. Her face furrowed as she concentrated, her powers over imagination quickly coming up with the most logical explanation.

 

She gasped, her mouth going into a wide 'O' shape. "I bet when we kissed...the power of our love make time go backwards to before I ate it! It's the only explanation!" She seemed rather pleased with herself.

Edited April 5, 2013 by A billion cats

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Made time do what--?"

 

Dallas, as a kid who had spent every day since middle school screwing around with time, knew of course that the timestream did not work in the way Ashley thought it did. He also knew that it was common sense - more than common sense - that a kiss could not, in fact, turn back time unless you were in a Tomb Raider movie. Alas, something stopped him anyway, and not just the fervently believing look on Ashley's face.

 

"...You really love me?"

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

The question surprised Ashley a bit, for some reason she thought the answer was obvious. Well...obvious to her.

 

"Of course I love you! More than life itself!" She said sincerely, giving a warm smile. She wasn't sure why but her cheeks felt a little hot.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dallas felt a little something twitch in his chest, and too late he realized that his empath senses were probably shooting off feels like bullets from the barrel of a gun; with surprising grace, he broke the eclair in half, plopped half in Ashley's mouth and half in his own, and then stood before she was finished chewing in surprise. The blonde-headed prettyboy plucked Ashley from her chair and over his shoulder in a bridal carry, paying no mind to the fact that he was once again giving the photokinetic a piggyback ride to and from his place.

 

This time he used his powers to help give the timestream around him a little nudge. All poor, disoriented Ashley had time to do was blink, and she was back in Dallas' apartment, in front of two giant bowls of Captain Crunch on the coffee table adjacent to the couch.

 

"You're right. The space-time continuum must be on the fritz."

 

-Tyler

[otter]

IC-Luka:

 

Luka ate a powerbar in boredom.

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Whoa I'm in a bridal carry, and whoaaaa dizzy, dizzy, dizzy...CAPTAIN CRUNCH.

 

Ashley blinked, feeling quite disoriented at the sudden change of location, she collapsed on the couch, giggling. "Woahhhhh you really are magical. That was like riding the Top-Thrill Dragster without seatbelts!"

 

IC: Shiloh

 

"Got anymore of those powerbars?"

Edited April 5, 2013 by A billion cats

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"...I get that a lot?"

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

"Well it must be true then!" Ashley took a handful of Captain Crunch from her bowl and plopped back down onto the couch, her entire body stretched across it.

 

"NOM NOM NOM NOM!"

Edited April 5, 2013 by A billion cats

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"You look like you have a serious bone to pick with that cereal."

 

-Tyler

[Snelly]

IC: Ashley

 

Ashley stopped her merciless chewing of said cereal. "Well actually, I was just trying to sound like the Heavy in Team Fortress 2!"

 

"It's the cereal's fault for being so tasty too! It should be against the law!"

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: Annie's lips quivered a little when she discovered that her unbeloved father was not there to bear her punches. "Then where... did that... monster... go?" she asked, her words seething through her pearly enamel.

 

"After he snapped my girlfriend's neck on top of the Hard Rock last night?" Alaric asked, shrugging. "Not the foggiest."

 

"Not at all?" she pressed.

 

"Not at all," Alaric echoed.

 

Annie Worthington stood there, probably only a matter of hours away from finding him and declaring her seventeen-years' hatred on him, and felt the pangs of helplessness like a pilgrim who had sojourned so long and so far only to find the monastery she pursued was torn down. She wanted to stand before the man who could have been her dad and look into his eyes, stare into his soul and let him look into hers so that he could see just what kind of creature he gave birth to. She wanted to show him the pain she endured because of his lack of love for her, his only daughter, and introduce him to the hellfires she clothed herself in. She hated him more than anything else and every single thing that she had to go through was pinned on his neglect.

 

She was three when he abandoned her, barely able to speak full sentences, but she was perceptive. Thrust by from her bedroom in the family mansion by a maid and placed into one of the posh-looking offices. Her father had apparently died and activated the protocol to read the last will and testament. Alaric was six then and seemed dressed for success already with a little velvet sportcoat and ascot and sat prim and neat with his ward beside him; Annie was in a silk dress with the maid at her side. She remembered the lawyer behind the desk with the will in hand and his droning baritone announcing the contents of the will.

 

"The Worthington estate, in its entirety, I give to my son, Alaric Carlisle Worthington." That was it. Nothing more. No extra lines of betrothment. "And as for my daughter, Anne Worthington, she will be a ward of the State."

 

"What?" the maid protested.

 

"That's all it says, I'm afraid," the lawyer said and tucked the letter into the envelope when whence it came. "Nothing more about Anne."

 

"B-but poor little Anise..." The maid held the girl tightly. "This is a bad joke isn't it?"

 

"Don't be silly, Dorothy," Alaric's ward cut in. "This is a serious situation. There is no time for jokes."

 

"No joke here," the lawyer said to the maid. "That's what the will says. Everything goes to Ric; Anne... is given nothing."

 

Seventeen years of unhappiness started there. Her identity was stripped from her, her future taken away. Her memory blurred from then to dark hallways in an orphanage.

 

She killed her first man at a young age of seven. She felt no remorse from it.

 

She looked at Alaric, her brother, and saw in him everything she hated. He got what she had deserved, what was rightfully just as much hers as it was his. He was another symptom, not the root of the problem, but Annie didn't see it that way, not now, not there, not when her father was so close and yet just as far as ever. "None at all," she repeated and stepped forward to Ric. "Yeah, riiiight.

 

"YOU ARE PROTECTING HIM!" she yelled as she moved to fight Alaric. She aimed to kick his groin and twist his neck to pop his head off like a champagne cork but she didn't expect Alaric's lightning fast reaction time. It seemed effortless for Alaric to anticipate the move and slap her arms away and shove her kick to the side, almost tossing her to the side. Annie collapsed once her leg gave way from under her and fell to her knees before Alaric's quick hands simultaneously struck her ears.

 

"I love you, Annie," Ric whispered in her ears as she passed out from the discombobulating strike.

 

Fade to black.

[sunflower]

IC: Jesika

 

For a moment, it didn't seem like Jesika wasn't going to let go of Nathan, and considering that she still looked to be in shock, there was the distinct possibility that she couldn't. But then, she eventualy let go, allowing Nathan to set her down. Curling up slightly, she stayed like that, her breathing the only sound for a time. She didn't seem aware that Nathan was still there at all.

 

After a few minutes like this, she finally seemed to snap out of it. Jesika glanced up at the aerokinetic, her eyes were red.

 

"Nathan... I don't want-""I don't want you to di-"

 

"I don't want you to leave, too."

[Light]

IC: Jared crossed his arms, whistling slightly. "Well, it used to be better around here. Unfortunately, you've caught us at our worst. Seems like everything went nuclear lately..."

[shadow pridak money gang]

"Trees will make a forest

Trees will make a bowThese are all the harderWords you have to know

If everyone's a structureWhere their own savior sitsI'm a little red houseBut no one's living in it"

 

- "Bought a Bride," Brand New

 

IC:

 

If he were anyone else, Alaric James Carlisle-Worthington would have freaked out, absolutely sure that he had just killed his long-lost little sister.

 

Was he someone else, to begin with? He had dropped the Worthington from his name during an emo phase at the age of 14, considering the latter half of his latter name not just a mouthful but also an obscenity, a scar on his person inflicted and then rubbed raw bidaily by the father who had abandoned him to kill the unkillable, only to end up a corpse himself. He had graduated, gotten a couple bachelor's degrees, gotten a master's online, then for some inexplicable reason he had come back to the school he had fought for years to escape. He'd gotten a job as a history teacher, of all things. That didn't seem like him.

 

He'd made a half-attempt to try and settle down, get a girlfriend: the way he cradled Annie in his arms in the lobby of the X-Manor reminded him peculiarly of the way he'd used to cradle Ashlynn when she was down in the dumps or feeling like she needed to rip something apart. Alaric had always been told that he hugged people the way that his father had hugged people, that he had the same too-blue spark in his eyes that was as expressive as it was pure; he couldn't get the image of that hug out of his head, because in his heart Alaric knew it was probably the way that Warren had held Ashlynn just before he killed her. The thought made him want to vomit, made hatred towards his paternal bloodline well up like bile. That didn't seem like him.

 

He'd dealt with the possibility that Ashlynn wasn't the one: Taralynn. Exhibit B in the reasons why no female Summers child should ever fall for a Worthington child. She'd holed up in her room after Christmas, and he had decided to let her come out when she needed to. He, too, had needed time to grow after the battle with Weapon-X. He'd needed time to accept that his father had willfully abandoned him, missed out on seventeen birthdays, let him go through his standardized tests and his first dates and his first car wrecks and his first nights spent with his hair held in some girl's fist, vomiting into a toilet that cost about as much as the annual operations of a Third World intelligence agency. That was who he was, no matter how it sounded; that was because of Warren, all of it.

 

Warren had abandoned him to become a man on his own, and Alaric had needed time to accept it. He thought he had accepted it; along came Annie, then, with her neo-gothic smoking hot looks and her soul full of bitterness and hate, probably stained with a good bit of blood and alcohol, and Alaric realized that on some level he hadn't ever really accepted it at all. He looked like a male model and she looked like the kind of girl that would be the antihero's love interest on a high concept TV drama, but they were bonded not just by their blood but by their desire to bleed it dry. So he didn't worry that he had killed her, not just because as hyperkinetic strikes go what he had done to Annie was relatively minor, but because he knew all about the rage that was brewing inside her that would actually refuse her the opportunity to die until it was released in full upon Warren Worthington III.

 

So he gently laid his sister down down, whispering that he loved her, because the second he had laid eyes on her he had known that he loved her. How could he not, how could he not love the total personification of everything he had the chance to become, would have become, if Warren had not bestowed his self-righteous mercy on him, had not parted the clouds from beyond the grave and rained down money and cars and clothes and high society Cali girls on his eldest and best prodigy? It was not in Alaric's nature to hate her, or pity her, because he knew together they represented a yin and a yang, parts of a whole that together would spell the final completion of both the Worthington legacy and its progenitor.

 

Annie's head lolled in his hands, unconscious; he pulled her into his clavicle and held her the way Warren would have, had he not been a narcissistic dick with a God complex who had taken his codename of 'Angel' too seriously. He loved her because she was his sister, his perfect counterpart in a way that not even Brooklyn was. Sitting there on the lobby floor, leaning his head of soft, perfect black hair against the window of the cafeteria, Alaric held Annie and whispered words of comfort and encouragement to her, even though he doubted she was awake to hear them. If she was, though, she'd know that he cared. In a way that Warren either couldn't or refused to, Alaric cared, and he knew that if there was a speck of Worthington blood in Annie she would feel that he cared, and that together, they'd make Warren pay for the way he'd wronged his own flesh.

 

That didn't really sound a lot like Alaric, but after all, he was a different person now.

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"See, it's not quite that simple.""The whole world's gone to ****." The teenager, after a moment's thought, propped the punching bag up against the wall. "And this place? This place is gonna be the epicenter of a whole lot of it. This is where the X-Men are from. Child soldiers, technically terrorists."

 

"And from what I've seen, ninety percent of the people here are either raring for a fight, or are ready to fight if it came to it. Pacifists don't have much of a place here, and from what I've heard the students talking about, that's why you lost two of your number."

[Light]

IC: "I agree."

 

The lumokinetic sighed, the light in his eyes dimming.

 

"Dallas and Ashley were two of the best. I fight because I have to, but they could get through without doing anything of the kind. Since they've been gone- Well, I won't trouble you with how much more unstable this place is and our PR problems. I think you've seen for yourself."

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"Honestly, I didn't want to come here in the first place. I am quite opposed to the existence of the X-Men. I came here because my parents insisted that I find somewhere to go that won't result in new bruises on a daily basis."

 

"There are a few people here that I would love to get to know, but there are so many people here that I can barely tolerate. I've been here a few hours and I've almost given in to my own instincts to fight twice. I don't think I can stay."

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: The lights in the theater of her mind turned on slowly at first, just mere embers of light on the ceiling before igniting to soft cascades of golden shine. But there was something off -- the babble of playgoers taking intermission was replaced with a steady whine and purr of a motor.

 

Annie's eyes fluttered open as she came to. Sunlight beat down on her eyes through a bubbled window and she felt very cramped. As her mind turned itself on again she looked around, perceiving and accepting her surroundings as she always had. She was in a car, she knew, being driven by someone hot. "Where am I?" she asked.

 

"Pennsylvania, southwest of Pittsburgh." Alaric looked over at his sister and smiled thinly. "You've been out for six hours. I hope you're not in pain."

 

"Wha--..." she started, then her memory came back to her. Her search for her father, her landing at the Manor, her meeting with Alaric, her anger spewing out, her fight over before she knew it. Again, her eyes narrowed in recognition. "You... Where are you taking me?" she asked as she wriggled in the seat and checked herself over in search of signs of bindings or cuffs.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Las Vegas," Alaric replied, the thin smile giving way to the concise briefings of a military tactician. "We're tracking down Warren. Together."

 

Annie settled back down and looked dead ahead at the road, convinced that she was not a hostage, or at least not being treated as one. She was silent for a moment as if processing what Alaric had just said before finally simply saying, "Together?"

 

"Think critically. You're not tied up, you're not strapped to the roof a la Mitt Romney's pet, and I'm pretty sure that by now we're far enough out from Westchester that if you wanted to kill me and dump me off the side of the road, I wouldn't be found for years on end. I want your help, Annie. I...well, I wanna be your brother."

 

-Tyler

Edited April 5, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Madara: Mangekyou Master]

IC - Tengu - X-Mansion: Before Bryce responded, the Quinjet banked and began to cut through clouds as it approached the sprawling grounds at 1407 Graymalkin Lane. The M.A.C.E. aircraft would likely land vertically, in the courtyard.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

Dominik Lord found out about Pietro Maximoff's death, fittingly enough, while he was putting on his blazer.

 

He hadn't grown up in the best conditions in Chi-town, so while his room wasn't exactly Hilton-esque it was certainly a well put together little chamber. On the table was his lunch, methodically laid out for one on a mahogany table. His dresser of clothes was already laid out on his bed, not because he had any foresight into the events going on at Genosha but because he was curious as to what exactly he should put on today. Several lamps were on, giving a pleasant luminescence to the room; shadows clung to the corners of the apartment, aware dimly - ha, dimly - of what Dominik could and would do to them. Hardly a basement-level apartment on Garfield Boulevard, but nothing that would make Dominik forget where he came from, either.

 

He reached out with one soft hand and pulled a chair back, sitting down comfortably and nestling in. He had just taken a cherry tomato with his right index fingertip and pushed it idly to the forefront of the plate when he heard a banging on the door, not exactly that of a fist but definitely something heavy. With a sigh, he stood, popping the tomato up with his thumb and index finger as though he were flipping a coin and catching it in his mouth as he made his way to the door with confident and assured strides, never losing an ounce of grace as he opened the door to observe Erebus; the lightjumper looked at his shadowy counterpart with no small measure of disdain, as though the man were a stain on his riding boots.

 

Erebus, as always, looked horrible: had it not been for his dark grey skin like the hard as rock skin of a dead coyote, his bloody crimson eyes, general sneering attitude and the metal sickle affixed to his stump of a right wrist, he could have been handsome, could have been a contender, could have been somebody in the Brotherhood. As it was, he was a bum; he had just yet to face it. Regardless, Dominik leaned in the doorway and let him speak his piece. What he heard both lightly surprised the former street thug and furthered his disgust for the slug in the doorway even more.

 

"Pietro's dead," the long-time Brotherhood failure said in a low voice, tight with rage and scooped so full of bloodlust that Dominik could practically taste the steel of Erebus' fake hand inside his mouth. "Enforcers and human special ops coming. That punk Abraham's trying to bail, and I want to make sure that you stay loyal to--"

 

"Loyalty?" Dominik chuckled, sounding quite intrigued with himself as Erebus stopped dead. "My dear...err...colleague's a bit strong...screw it. Erebus. Buddy. Pal-o. I loved Pietro like a father, but he was mad. Stark raving. He was the red wire that held this island together, and now that he has been cut and this island is an effective time bomb I have as many reasons to stick around this place as you have offers for hand modeling."

 

Erebus obviously didn't take too kindly to that.

 

"Listen, pretty boy--"

 

"You're blocking my light."

 

"I don't--"

 

"Step aside, Betelgeuse. You don't want this; you wouldn't be here if you didn't know what I could do to you."

 

Erebus raised his sickle hand threateningly, about ready to saw Dominik's face diagonally like a club sandwich, and the getaway driver replied in turn casually. The shadowjumper felt the touch of cold steel against his forehead as a sawn-off shotgun was casually drawn from the top of a dresser next to the doorway, then he felt a click and a slight jump as Dominik pulled the trigger. Then the world jolted as though it were hooked to a conduit. Then nothing. Looking up, the young man in the doorway located a casual stream of light coming from a hallway adjacent to the main straightaway Erebus had taken to get to his chambers. Even from here, the voices radiated: Abraham was amongst them; Gemini could be heard as well, complaining about some sort of bike. Typical. Why couldn't he just get another bike? Seriously: spending a childhood in the Windy City had taught him that stealing a bike wasn't much different from learning to ride one. You gun it, wreck once or twice, scrape something up, then you never forget it.

 

He didn't want to risk screwing up his boots and tracking blood on the floors from the tangled, pulpy mess that was once Erebus' face, so Dominik casually focused on the light source down the hallway and reappeared in its epicenter a second later, drawing the attention of the gathered Brotherhood refugees as his Frye Dorados clicked casually against the hallway. In tandem with his steps were his claps, several soft, popping sounds as his hands met each other over and over, as though he'd just been treated to a private showing of an excellent musical.

 

"Haven't we been busy?" he asked rhetorically, stopping at dueling distance from Abraham and his group. "Yes. I believe we have."

 

-Tyler

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: All this time Annie had been the ugly duckling in search of purpose and acceptance. She had garnered many memberships, from lunch groups to neighborhood gangs to addicts anonymous crowds but she never felt anything truly pleasing from any of them. She was a Worthington -- she could never put aside her blood just like she could not sever her heart from her body. Being a Worthington kept her going, it kept her alive despite all the negative aspects that name had. It gave her life a meaning, a history and a path to follow. But never in her wildest dreams could she had envisioned her sitting in a car with Alaric the way she was right then.

 

That is to say, without one of them trying to kill the other.

 

She pulled her bag up from between her legs and opened it. Her Vektor pistol was still there, either a token of trust from Alaric or an overlooked technicality. Either way she took it for what it was: An asset she still retained in the face of relative uncertainty. Or was it truly uncertain now? she wondered. She still looked ahead as if hypnotized by the bedazzle of light as it shone between the trees and caused her to blink rapidly. Think critically, Alaric had told her. Deep down she didn't feel like trusting or loving anyone; she lived and breathed for the sole purpose of drowning her father in a pit of his own defecation to give him insight of what he had done, especially to her. It had honed her to kill and feel no remorse for her actions, to be a goddess with violence as her sword and wrath as her shield. She ran, both from the law and from her own creations, and everywhere she walked things fell apart from her virulent soul. But once she had done Warren in, what then? What was her next move? Next step? What would she live for then?

 

She didn't know. Everything was about a certain point in her future and reaching for it on the abstract ladder of fate where every rung was invisible until the weight of her foot was on it. Alaric may be a rung, she thought. But it was a rung she never expected and was cautious to accept. She still envied him with all her heart; he was her opposite in all regards, the person she would have been if her future was so drastically altered by the simple will of an unloving father. He was everything she thought she stood against, someone who had it all, someone who was given everything he needed to survive with, someone who succeeded. But what if he felt similarly about her? No, not like thinking of her as his better but rather simply seeing her as an opposite, a parallel life that he could have lived if things were different at the start.

 

Would he have felt the way she did now if they were reversed? she wondered.

 

Yes, he would, she answered.

 

They had a lot in common: Blood, anger, resentment towards one man; they were both perceptive, heedless of danger, confident; they were both lost souls in a sea of faces. They were opposites, but as Annie ripped her gaze from the road and back to Alaric's face she realized there was no reason to see him as an enemy. Her jealousy persisted but her heart relented. For once, just once, she could give this whole 'family' thing a try because it presented itself to her in full.

 

"Okay," she said.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Dominik. Alias; Regent.

 

The strategist pivoted on one foot, turning to look at the newest arrival. One of the few Brotherhood members capable of having non-violent thoughts for more than a minute at a time.

 

"If you call an assassination and a relocation busy, then yes."

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

And just like that, he had some semblance of a family together. He wasn't sure what feeling he had been expecting, but he didn't get anything like relief or gratification. The feeling was more simple than that; it was like a puzzle piece had been clicked into his heart, and then it just continued on. There was nothing palpable about the reply but all the same Alaric knew that the piece had still clicked.

 

"We're headed to the Hard Rock," he explained. "Those are the coordinates I found in the jet after Warren broke my neck, and it's the best place to figure out where he went after my girlfriend died."

 

IC:

 

Dominik shrugged casually and put a hand out for Abraham to shake calmly.

 

"Apologies for the lateness. I got held up by Erebus, which is ironic considering his lack of two hands to hold with."

 

-Tyler

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Abraham didn't pause for a moment, reaching out and shaking Dominik's hand. "I take it Erebus will not be joining us?"

 

He didn't wait for an answer, nodding slightly to himself. "Good. The man was unstable ever since his last defeat. If you intend to stick around, this entire hallway is open for use, except for the room at the end of the hall. You've probably noted the arrangement of the building already.""And, in case you were curious, the roster of mutants here consists of myself, Luka, Magnitude, Dana, Asura, Gemini, Nate, and Alexis."

[Light]

IC: Nate was wary when he heard someone approaching, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

[Constructelf]

IC: Morning Star

In the back of the Quinjet, Morning Star lay, resting in standby mode. Tengu had requested that the cyborg accompany them on the trip to the X-Manor. In a rare moment of self-thought, Morning Star found that odd. It was meant to be a flying tactical nuke, not a repossession officer. Still, it had its orders. The GPS built into its systems pinged, and Morning Star began to boot up again, as it had programmed the timer to go off when they were near its destination. Rising, it looked around. Silently gazing out the window, it stood, ready for orders, thoughts unfathomable beneath its mask.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Sounds like quite the crew. Johnson brothers didn't make it?"

 

"Kane was on the plane, but we haven't seen him since we landed. Caden stayed behind."

 

Dominik was clearly factoring this into the situational report he kept filed in his head; his calculations were not bookwise as Abraham's were, more streetwise and stepped in unconventional and asymmetric urban warfare than Abraham's tried-and-true tactics from the greatest minds in military history, but regardless Dominik was just as powerful a mental force and chessmaster as Abraham when prodded. He was now receiving such a prodding. Together, it fell to the two of them to rebuild a once-great faction, to win hearts and minds. It would take cooperation to do so; luckily, the two had a healthy respect for each other, and their talents and weaknesses overlapped so one had the other covered at all times.

 

"Regardless. Israel and Dana can make up for them offensively, at least in the event of a small-to-moderate siege. Alexis can, too, despite my feelings on her...skill set. We should be fine."

 

Dominik turned half-heartedly and waved as he heard another set of footsteps approach the duo. They belonged to a physically fit brunette with warm eyes and a face that looked as though it was prone to smiling. Such a smile was on his face now as the marksman recognized the identity of the handsome new arrival and mentally let his guard down a bit.

 

"Nathaniel," he greeted, smiling warmly in return.

 

-Tyler

Edited April 5, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

"Yes. For the moment, we're quite capable of holding our own. Once the Enforcers come in force, however, we will have a problem."

 

The tactician was oddly subdued, monotone. In the old days, he was always ready with a sarcastic, or condescending remark. But now, he was almost... Detached. Robotic. He was going through the motions, but there was no life in it. "But it will take them a while to find us, regardless. This is far from the first place they will look. In fact, I doubt it is even on their list."

 

IC:

 

The sun glinted off of the waves, turning the water a deep, cerulean blue. It was the epitome of beauty, majestic, but with an undercurrent of power. The waves reached a decent height, enough for the body-surfers and genuine surfers alike to have some fun with it. The sand was warm, and almost white in the bright sunlight.

 

And at the very edge of it all, Rebekah stood, trying to decide what she was supposed to do next. Am I supposed to set up a towel like everyone else....? But if so, where? Or am I supposed to change... Or set up an umbrella.....

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"So we're running, then."

 

"Running? No. If you want to be technical, hiding would be the better term. We're not at any capacity to go on the offensive, nor do we have a clear leader, or goal. Until we recover, remaining hidden is the best option."

 

"Right. You know, Abraham, Pietro didn't exactly have enough sanity to coat a penny, but he hardly dismantled the Brotherhood in the way you think he has. We still have funds. We still have scores of data and resources in caches throughout the world. We have dirt, and we have clout. What's more, we are now longer bogged down by the dead weight, which leaves who we do have all the more buoyant. Are we at a disadvantage? Yeah; no one here would deny that. But what is it that we do? What is it that you do?"

 

For what may have been the first time in his life, Abraham didn't answer right away. Dominik stepped forward and grasped the man by his shoulders; the specks of purest emerald in his hazel eyes sparkled with a determination that the Brotherhood - and its new presumptive leader - sorely needed at the moment.

 

"We adapt. You adapt. Understand? We have leadership potential; that's a start. We have the remnants of a goal, a madman's goal; it is left to us to reinvent it. We have the capacity to go on the offensive; we just need the creativity to use it in a way that they aren't expecting. You get what I'm saying here? You and I, Abraham. We got this, my brother. Just take it easy, think rationally, and flick on the Brainiac switch again."

 

-Tyler

[Light]

IC: "Hey, Dominik." Nate would have gone on, but Abraham and Dominik were talking again.

[Krayzikk]

IC:

 

Abraham's silence stretched on for several moments. One could almost see the gears turning hin his mind, the tiny spark of the old Abraham reappearing in his gaze. Dominik was right. Pietro had been a madman, that much could not be denied. But the Brotherhood still existed. Its ideals were tarnished, buried, faint after Maximoff's reign, but they were still there.

 

He had the chance to bring it back to its former glory. Where Pietro had swelled their ranks with madmen and murderers, he could bring them back to what their goal was. Mutants needed acceptance, at the very least. Many had been killed in Pietro's insane quest, but he would not honor their memory, nor make up for their deaths, by giving up. The best way to ensure that they did not die in vain was to keep working, so that one day, the Brotherhood's real ideals could be accomplished.

 

Pietro had wanted conquest; when he looked around, Abraham did not see conquerors. He saw people that had been pushed down all their lives, people that wanted a home again. People that didn't want to deal with the prejudice anymore.

 

"... Well. I suppose we'd better get started, then."

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

Are there any visible signs of the curse?

I believe I had him inscribe some sigils into the earth around the house, but as they're just marks in the soil you'd have to know what you were looking for

 

IC: The Morlocks and their new helpers had been taken into some sort of atrium for new guards to come pick up their uniforms and old ones to take a shower at the end of their shift. There was a locker room off to the left, and a breakroom off to the right. As the mutants adjusted, one guard strolled out of the latter, cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He caught sight of the intruders, stoof slack jawed for a moment in sheer puzzlement, then reached for his belt, going for a gun or alarm. He didn't make it. White Lightning blasted him before his hand had even got halfway and he fell to the ground, twitching. His unfirm was clearly some sort of body amour, but apparently it hadn't been made to accommodate the high voltages Jack could throw out.

 

"Quickly!" Leech urged, "We need to get to maximum security!"

 

 

Alec had not been shrunk down. He was still in the park, one hand in the tree so he could maintain control of the prison's systems. He was helpless to any threats, so the defenders who'd remained outside would have to watch his back

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"My man," Dominik chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "First off, we gotta assemble who we have left. We're gonna need to start working as a team now."

 

IC:

 

"Why would you want to make cereal illegal? We would be death row inmates by now."

 

IC:

 

Almost as though she anticipated Rebekah's conflict, Brooklyn kicked up two lounge chairs for both of them to lay back in, planted an umbrella between them so that they had to tilt their head backwards to see it, and planted a boombox with a huge snack tray underneath.

 

-Tyler

Edited April 5, 2013 by Tyler Durden

[Constructelf]

IC: Hei

Kristy had stayed outside. She wasn't exactly fond of shrinking and she didn't feel right in her conscience about this whole prison breakout thing either. So she sat, and watched. Hopefully that was all she needed to do. Keeping an eye on Alec, she twiddled her fingers. A few people cast strange glances at her due to the fact that she was nightwear, but otherwise, she was ignored. Which was good.

[Krayzikk]

IC:"Gemini left on a bicycle." Abraham said, hands slipping into his pockets. His normally immaculate suit was dusty and battered, but his movements were more vibrant and alive than they had been in days. "But that won't be an issue. He has done little recently anyway. He can be filled in when he returns."His eyes moved around him, making a mental note of everyone present. "Nate, Luka, and Shiloh are here already. Which leaves Magnitude, who I believe was headed to the kitchen, Asura, and Dana.""And.... Alexis." He shot Dominik a glance that indicated that they would need to have a conversation about the latter at a later time.

 

IC:

 

Rebekah, for her part, moved toward the water's edge, seemingly transfixed by the coastline that stretched out before her. A single foot tapped the water, and her smile widened slightly. It was cool, but not cold. A delightful temperature. She stayed still for several long moments, the surf lapping at her feet, before she moved.

 

All of her strength and speed was channeled into a single lunge, one that propelled her into the air, soaring out from the shore like a cannonball. A violet glow played around her body in midair, replacing her street clothes with the swimsuit purchased mere minutes before.

 

With a single impact, she vanished beneath the waves.