Madara: Mangekyou Master

I was under the impression that access to the database was restricted to specific government agencies.

How about names?

IC – Cambion – Boston: Seizing the opening, Cambion leapt forward, vaulting over the upturned desk. He would execute a fluid combo to try and cripple the SHIELD agent. He faked a punch, sending a rear kick towards Persson’s leg. As the mutant threw his fist forward, only for Persson to make eye contact with him. The agent’s eyes were blood-chillingly cold. “Oh, s-”The agent of SHIELD seemed to move like a thunderbolt. In a millisecond, Persson’s hand had caught the punch, while simultaneously catching Cambion across the jaw with a cross.The mutant buckled a little, as Professor Persson crouched slightly, before viciously striking both of Victor’s kidneys with a succession of hooks. "I can't even follo-" Victor stumbled back, reeling from the attack. The SHIELD agent didn’t slow down, as his fists pummeled into his student’s cheek and jaw. Cambion fell backwards, victim of a controlled front kick, landing on his back and throwing up a shower of unmarked essays. The mutant blinked blearily, as the slow application of pressure crushed the air out of his lungs and diaphragm. Papers showered down from above, like snowflakes. "I can't believe it... Less than 10 seconds to wipe me all over the floor." Melker Persson straddled the mutant, a gun barrel jammed against the infiltrator’s jaw. The agent wiped the blood from his nose with a handkerchief. “Whomever you really are, I suggest you lie down.”

We build levies to hold back floodwaters, and we make sure our buildings are able to withstand earthquakes. Heck, when forest fires threaten our homes, we fight them. We resist when nature threatens us. More importantly, we humans harness nature's power. And are capable of doing so in sustainable ways. If mutants are a force of nature, it would be unconscionable not to control them and develop ways to mitigate their potential dangers.

Haha. XD just relying on self-interest. Maximum happiness for a maximum number of people. And in that interest, it is vital for the societal order to be preserved. The fantastic powers of mutants undermine the truisms of humanity and upset the social order which preserves us all.

Law. Liberty. Community. Your liberty is kept safe by preventing that human nuke down the road from threatening you.Where can I sign up?

IC - Cambion - Boston: The mutant paused, confusion written all over his face. "That perceptive old fox." Cambion's thoughts were icy. "Looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. really doesn't cut corners in their recruiting. I slip up, and I'll probably end up dead." "What the #### do care?" Cambion loosened up, allowing the blow knock his arm aside, before tumbling into several stacks of neatly organised essays. "I've been dying for months now." "Technically true." "You don't know the stress!" He grinned madly, as Persson smoothly kicked the desk over. "And I don't need a ####ing socialist telling me how to live my ######### life." "10 minutes left before Agent Persson's due to leave." Cambion's hands rested on a flipped textbook. With a wild look in his eyes, the ginger hurled the book at "his" professor's face, while simultaneously throwing the statuette at the professor's nether regions. With Persson's agility, at best, it would clip his leg. At worst, it'd break apart that lovely marble pyramid on the shelf. No, not marble the rock. Marble, the classical glass spherical children's toy.But, Cambion rushed forward. If the SHIELD agent shifted his footing to avoid the projectile, he'd be open for a rush from his 'student'.

IC - Cambion - Boston: "I'm so sorry to disturb you, s-sir." "Don't apologize. It makes you look Canadian." The handsome Swedish professor waved his hand dismissively when he only received a blank stare in return. "I know, I know. You're from Texas." The mutant leaned forward with an outstretched hand. "Sir, the lecture recording, please, I don't wanna waste your time." Persson reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a disc, dropping it into his student's hand. "Thank yo-" "Wait." Cambion's gaze dropped to the floor, as Persson interrupted. "To be frank, Mr. McGarvy, I'm concerned. Your marks have been abysmal this semester." "Yes, sir." "I'm not paid to care about my students, but I admit, it bothers me to see what appears to be an obvious lack of self-discipline." The Swedish man rose to his feet and turned to a table at the window and began to pack a suitcase with a number of documents, continuing his lecture. "A lawyer's time is his money, and what you do with your time is your business. But if you are struggling with the workload or if you've started experimenting with chemistry in your spare time, I'd suggest you dedicate some time to seeing a counselor. It couldn't hurt. You need to have structure in your life. Build a spine-" Cambion choked up suddenly, then let the floodgates open. It was surprising that Persson had a heart. "I know sir. It's just all the stress. It started with brownies, and now I'm spending easily two or three hundred a day on my fix. I don't know what to do." "You compassionate fool." While Persson droned on, attention still focused on his briefcase, Cambion had shuffled faux-awkwardly into a better stance, and crouched ever so slightly. It was a small office, lined with bookshelves. Even if the larger man was able to counter, the space would limit his reach. "I can take him." On the desk was a brass statuette of Lady Justice, with a heavy base. "Success is something you must take. It's not too late, Louis. Go get yourself some help. If you need to, I'm willing to give you a W for the class this semester." The undercover agent had opened up another stack of files and was sorting them into the briefcase. "Thank you, sir. Thank you. I won't take up anymore of your time." Cambion sprang forward, the vibranium lining in his shoes making his pounce noiseless as he planted his foot on the desk and snatched up the statuette with a smooth motion. It look less than 3/4 of a second for Cambion to bring his makeshift bludgeon down in a deadly arc, aimed at the base of the professor's skull. OOC: Feel free to use Melker as you see fit, Flex.

IC – Cambion – Boston: "Ah, umm, hello. I was wondering, is Professor Persson in yet? In his office? Oh, alright. Thank you." Cambion, in the guise of the ginger student, scuttled sheepishly up the staircase to the second floor. "Pretty secretary. Too bad that I'm leaving this town so quickly. We could have had such fun." "Room 246, 248. Aha! 254." Cambion looked at the mahogany door. It was almost as imposing as the Professor himself. This is where the chips fell down. An all or nothing gamble. If Cambion's surveillance and intel was correct, Associate Professor Persson was far more than a simple high-flying lawyer. "I suppose I'm not the only one who gets his paychecks from a life of subterfuge and deception." He licked his lips nervously. He had searched so carefully for his prize. "Playing limbo with the FBI wasn't easy. Though, it was too obvious that the information wouldn't be in the hands of any single nation's agencies. I'm only lucky that the information was housed here in Boston, instead of on some island safehouse off the Ivory Coast." He rolled his eyes. For that matter, he was lucky it wasn't on the mighty S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier. "You'd have to give me El Dorado to try and pull off a stunt like that!" The mutant raised his hand and knocked hesitantly on the door. "Professor Persson, m-may I come in?" "Luck has led me here thus far, and luck will see me through." A steadt voice rang out from within the office. "Yes, yes. I don't have all day. Come on in."

OOC: Professor Persson's (NPC for now) profile! As a note, following a European model of studies, which allows law school to be taken as an undergraduate degree, it is possible to get an LL.M (Master in Laws) within a minimum of 4 years. Will Cambion get the recordings and class notes he needs?! Tune in next time!

OOC: Orange letters for the voice Cambion is currently impersonating. Maroon for his own voice. IC – Cambion – Boston: “In today’s lesson, we will go over John Austin’s command theory, and his theories of positivism in jurisprudence.” The professor was a tall blonde man, with a neutrally English accent. He gestured to the chalkboard, a stern look flashing across his Scandinavian features. “I’m assuming all of you have completed the assigned readings. IF you have not, please leave the class immediately. You can pick up a recording of the lecture during my office hours.” A slightly-built ginger student in the back of the classroom shifted from his seat, moving out of the doors. His face was flushed. It was better to leave than try to bluff Persson. The Swedish professor had an uncanny ability to single out the weakest links in a classroom. The student paced briskly across the campus towards his tiny apartment, muttering to himself. “It’s only the start of the second semester. I’ll be able to catch up. If I’m lucky enough to actually catch Dr. Persson at his ‘office hours.’” The skinny ginger sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The Scandinavian professor was infamous for only actually having half an hour of official office hours. “Not exactly the largest window of opportunity.” The student ran a hand through his hair, the bright copper curls shifting to a dark brown hue. The freckles on his face disappeared, as his jaw broadened slightly and his skin tone grew a couple shades darker. Victor Maximoff, known in some circles as Cambion, looked at the unconscious ginger draped on the bed, and strode over to the couch. He had spent several months preparing for this job. He ran his fingers across Professor Persson’s name, printed on a rumpled-looking syllabus. “Staking the target, getting to know his every habit, his every habitat.” The mutant smirked and looked back at the student, who was still asleep on the bed. “Every little detail must be flawless. Like finding and preparing an appropriate mark. Lost first years are so easy to befriend. Oh, a few too many nights out at the club with your best mate, and your marks slip. And there is nothing like a bit too much drink and a few too many pills to put someone to sleep. Well, I suppose befriend wouldn’t be quite the right term. Aromantic seduction maybe. Yess, I like the sound of that.” Cambion craned his neck back, stretching it slightly as he surveyed himself in the mirror, shifting back into a doppelganger of the student. “Endure, Victor. Your five months of purgatory will soon be over.” He patted the ginger student on the head. The drugs would keep him unconscious until well into the evening. More than enough time. “Blargh, look at the time. I’m screwed if I don’t head over to Persson’s office soon. He hates having his time wasted.” He snatched up a backpack and darted out the door. “After all, I can’t let the good professor be late to his other job at Buckler, Kite and Sköld.”

Finally got his profile in. I presen to you... Victor Maximoff!

OOC: Amended after discussion with The Snark Knight. Victor Maximoff

OOC: Thanks SK! would it be alright to carry this on via pm?

OoC: Please ignore.

OOC: It'd still be far more likely that she'd remove the whole clip, rather than the individual bullets. SchmeaaIC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC):Cyrus gestured to the taxi driver after they had gone down the potential detour for about half an hour. "Another right at this intersection, please." Hanna was safely asleep. Clearly, the poor girl was exhausted. He shook his head slightly, eyes betraying the barest hint of mechanical confusion. "I don't understand. Why go to such a metropolis? Why place oneself in such a pool teeming with emotions? Despair, hope, desperation, anger, anguish and ecstasy mingle here like chopped nuts in a bag of trail mix."The driver swung the car in a reasonably tight curve. Cyrus couldn't help but nod, impressed at the disreputable-looking driver's skill at weaving through the traffic. "He's as deft as a basket-weaver. I'll have to make a note of his name and registration number." The scientist wrinkled his nose at the pungent aroma of the scented dangly rearview mirror ornament. Unfortunately, it still failed to cover the other residual odours in the cab.His fingers accidentally brushed the seat cover, a flood of horror whelming up into his mind. Throughout the mixed images of swirling darkness, a sweaty man with a gross moustache, and other unspeakable things, came a terrible mantra. "Bueno, bueno excelente." Cyrus felt a rare sensation, the tiniest twitch of cold up his spine. Well... it would have been a horror to an average human. "Thank God, I'm not average. And that Hanna dear doesn't have my gift." His hand withdrew semi-instinctively from the seat. It was incredible what a taxi seat could experience over such a (relatively) short period of time.

OOC: I gotta laugh... you meant that she unloaded the gun while he had it in his hand? IC coming after this slurry of exams.

OOC: Really, a bullet travels at a bullet's speed, and it being a 9mm would do nothing to slow it down. Was bullet-catching part of the old military regimen? Which part of the armed forces did an elderly lady like herself hail from?

IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC):Cyrus looked at his watch, then made careful note of the signs at the crossroads. "Well, Hanna my dear, I would say that considering New York traffic, we have an hour at best." The man glanced at the girl out of the corner of his eye. She seemed weary. "Are you alright? I can imagine that the amount of emotions in that crowd took a toll on you."On the other hand, the cab driver seemed almost completely careless towards the presence of the weird alien-like passenger. Judging by the telltale brown stains of old blood droplets, this particular taxi driver had seen things more unscrupulous things in his day. He would avoid touching the seat with his hands, at least for now. His faith in humanity already had enough evidence stacked against it. "If you need to take a break, why don't you get some shut-eye? I'll make sure that nothing goes south. Well, except for the taxi.""Pardon me, could you hang a left up at this intersection? It should be a shorter route."

OOC: How high up was this killsat when it got rammed by that dimension-jumping ship?Because there was a debate a few pages back over space/Ike's perfect self-sustenance and lack of need of breathing. If it was high enough, your major concern wouldn't be pieces raining down from the sky.It'd be the debris field messing up human satellites in orbit... I can imagine the International Space Station would have challenges avoiding a storm of space shrapnel. Less manoeveurable GPS satellites facing a cloud of junk? An even bigger nightmare.Plus it's a great opportunity for the heroes to SPACE SUIT UP!

OOC: Provided you're fine with a taxi ride to the League.IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC):"I can empathize with your dilemma. I imagine that feeling the emotions of all those around you in this city would be particularly taxing. Are you from the city?" The taxi pulled up with a screech. "Not gonna lie, the driver doesn't look too reputable." Cyrus wrestled with the limp body of the alien-like human (apparently). "Can you give me a hand, Hanna?"It took a couple minutes to push the body into the back seat, where Strike lay sprawled at a rather uncomfortable looking angle. Cyrus scooted in afterwards, adjusting and propping the Alien up against his shoulder. "Hop in, Hanna. Off to the League HQ we go!"

IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC): "A partial human, you say? Fascinating." He drew in a deep sigh. "The League should be able to help him." It was so... arrogant of supers to think so little of the normal population."Huh, and to think today I was trying to be normal. Look how well that worked.""Oh, do you normally don the suit?" He smiled. "What a wonderful philanthropic hobby."

IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC):Cyrus smirked. "The League of Salvation, Dorothy. You're not in Kansas anymore. They're an international federation of superheroes, working together to save the world!" These last words had a hint of sarcasm laced into them. Needless to say, it didn't take an empath to read that.He paused, trying to hail a taxi while letting Hanna stew in silence. "If anyone would have the medical facilities to handle Strike's treatment, it would be the League. Is Strike human?"The man looked casually about, before his eyes grew serious at Hanna's assessment. "You're not aware of any reasonable factors?" He coughed slightly. "To be so negligent of the connection between one's own actions and the safety of others is disturbing. The force of good, unaware of its own strength or the consequences of steps it chooses, is more dangerous than evil itself."Finally, a cab was pulling closer. "I would suggest you consider that the next time you and your pal choose to play here in New York. There are over 10,000 people here per square km. Your theatrics put more than your own lives in danger."

IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC): Cyrus nodded silently, observing the situation. Law enforcement was likely to arrive soon. That would prove complicated for 'Strike'. "Oh, on a theoretical level, I can empathize. I would delve into how patronizing that statement is, but I suppose as a superhuman, your attitude is to be expected." He slid neatly down to the center of the crater. "Sharing and controlling emotions? Terrifying ability. Such a two-edged sword would probably drive me to a life as an introvert." The man crouched down, hoisting Strike up by an arm. He glanced at Hanna, supporting the Alien's weight on his shoulders. "I doubt that the hospital will do much for treating such an alien form. Are you two affiliated with the League?" As Cyrus half-dragged Strike out from the shallow pit, he noted the young woman's slight look of consternation. "I don't suppose that you can enlighten me as to why your friend would commit an action so imbecilic and endangering to the public."

IC (Cyrus Lewis - NYC):"My apologies. One cannot be certain that everything has a proper name. He is human, correct?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow as the crowd slowly splintered, then disintegrated, lost in their own happy thoughts. Why should they stay and be angry at a little road damage? All in the world was well. Thank God paramedics had already arrived and were well on their way to assisting the boy.The man looked down at the woman, a measure of ice in his voice. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." He gestured with his hand at the scattering public. "You're lucky to have the powers that you do, girl, breaking up an angry crowd with such ease. What is your name?"He flicked his eyes to the last dregs of the crowd, before turning his eyes back to the girl. "Once the mental manipulation wears off, and they look at the videos they took, it's likely that they'll be more upset that they had their brainspace violated."Cyrus placed a hand in his pocket, as the sirens disappeared with the ambulance. The drivers were no doubt whistling happily. It was uncomfortable knowing that there existed people with the potential to control the emotions in such a manner. "Do you find it morally disconcerting to meddle with the minds of us innocent civilians?"