Marvel, Rebirth:

[Snelly]

IC: Katherine "Kitty" Pryde

 

"Well, I assume you're wondering about where you'll be sleeping." Kitty said to Lilliana as she watched Warren and Betzy without obvious amusement. "There's actually quite a few vacant dorms we reserve for teachers that you could choose from. They're all about the same on the inside more or less."

 

IC: Ashley

 

Ashley began to head toward the institute again. "This will be fun!"

Edited January 31, 2014 by Yoko Littner

[Let's Henshin!]

IC: Dante (X-Institute Library, Speaking with Alistair)

 

"Well glad to hear your things in England went well. Speaking of which," Dante grinned, "Did you find anything interesting during your time there?" As for what interesting referred to, Dante knew Alistair was bound to understand his meaning.

 

"But kitsune eh? Don't tell me it's that fox guy again, Marty something or the other I think, what was there some reunion party I wasn't invited to going on?" Dante chuckled, now let's just see what happens if that Thunderbird shows up again. "Oh yeah," Dante suddenly added, "How long ago did you get back in the states anyway?"

[Advent Child]

IC: "This day just keeps getting more and more interesting." Nero finally piped up after what felt like a week of inactivity.

[Blair the Cat]

IC:

 

I didn't show it, but that comment kind of irritated me. Christine might be going through something that was essentially h*** on earth, and we were going to be having fun?

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

 

"Card," he croaked softly. It must have been Card. Card would've saved me. She's better than all these ######.

 

Waking up was no worse today than it was for Showstopper than it was every other morning of his life. That was a good start.

 

The hydraulic whisper of a biomedical machine murmured in his ears, like his vitals were being measured and relayed to him through a funnel. The lights blinked and dimmed and brightened whenever he needed them done, and slowly the pinprick of knowledge came to him through the doughy thick fog that had wrapped around his mind and senses. Two - three - girls were watching him, one seated by the bed, one standing in the door, and the other with her hand on his forehead, pushing back his hair. The ugly, misshapen thing inside him that was slowly remembering how to be Dallas Brett Green smirked.

 

"Dally's Angels," he whispered softly, eyes honing in on one in the back, one he'd thought dead, a sister to him. We're together. His smirk became fragile, quivered in the cold, and then became a tentative, hopeful smile. "Are we home?" he asked, then repeated: "Are we home? Did we make it back?"

 

They all looked at each other, back and forth, but none of them could look at him. Slowly, their features became less pixelated, moved like jigsaw puzzles, hovering over a board, and clicked together into cheeks and eyes and smiles and faces. People he knew. Family. There was Tali, scarred and vulnerable, there was even Ashley, the girl he thought of as a sister, who had been laying on a hospital bed comatose the last time Dallas had seen her, back home. We have to be home if Ashley's here, we made it back, we made it back, I always knew we'd make it back! They would fix things, rebuild home bigger and better than ever, and they could disband the X-Men forever and make their own lives. They had rebuilt. They had--

 

He saw Rebekah's face. The first thing he thought, he said out loud: "I knew you couldn't resist me forever." The second thing he thought was, Card must be getting me lunch or something. She's good like that. The third thing he thought hit him like a cross to the face. A bullet to the chest. A tour bus, hurtling towards some ungrateful sod of a technopath and his ###### girlfriend, while people inside held each other and screamed and clutched crucifix necklaces and aged to dust, oh Christ what have I done--

 

"We're not back," he realized in a voice as soft as a thread of hair. He leaned back into the pillow and looked up into the lights, hoping he could go blind and at least pretend he was home. "We're still stuck here."

 

"No," said Rebekah Fell, in a soft voice he'd never heard her use before, "and yes."

 

Dallas nodded. Right. That's alright. I can manage. The blood pressure cuff was inflating around his arm, and something ugly and misshapen and desperate and homesick in him ripped it off, popped it in his hand like a balloon. According to the vital machine, Dallas flatlined all at once, and he seized the ###### thing and threw it like a javelin through the glass window and out into the hallway. It lay there in the shards of glass, sparking out and spasming like a dying dial-cup connection; it lay there like Novocain's body; it lay there like Alex and Julia had, before he'd learned how to be a hero; it looked like home.

 

"Do you feel better?" asked Rebekah Fell, in a voice not so soft as before.

 

Bring me home, he wanted to command, and maybe we'll see, but his head was spinning and at this point he wasn't sure which way he had to take to find home anymore, so he just sat down and nodded wordlessly.

 

-Tyler

Edited January 31, 2014 by Aegon Targaryen

[Snelly]

IC:

 

"Well, that's one way to shut that thing up." Ashley said as she glanced at the vital machine, still sparking time to time.

 

IC: Ashley

 

The group found themselves descending into the lower levels of the institute quickly. Ashley knew it would be easy enough to get down to the Blackbird hanger, no one ever seemed to bother putting up decent security that could stop a group of crazy teenaged mutants.

Edited January 31, 2014 by Yoko Littner

[Eevee]

IC: Lilliana

 

"Thank you... I'll take whichever is the closest to my classroom." The young teacher said as she walked with Kitty through the halls.

[Wyrd Bid Ful Araed]

OOC: Bah, just noticed there was a Kristen post three pages. You could have made that clearer Auron...

 

IC: "You see the uniform?" Song said, referring the particular fashion choice of her host rather than her own 'work clothes'. "I do not dress this way for fun. It represents authority."

 

 

IC: Alec Trask was not particularly prone to attacks of the dreaded angst. Yet even he found it necessary occasionally to try a little introspection out for size. Turns out it wasn't a way to watch movies that required special glasses. Who knew, right?

But anyway, e needed some help over matters that were becoming increasingly important, which is why he was now knocking on the office door of one Doctor Rachel Thomas, the Institute's in-house counsellor

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Romulus)

Romulus eyed the remnants of his meal. They had eaten in silence, as would be expected after the conversation that had ensued. Romulus had noted with some concern that the absence of Ms. Rosewood has stretched on and on, she hadn’t returned to the manor, his men would have informed him of that. There seemed little he could do for Alaric at this point, it would only be forcing a knife into wounds already fresh. He felt as if the Hellfire Club was a temple of sorts, and right now two of the largest pillars were crumbling or missing. The other wasn’t even worth mentioning.

“Pardon me, Alaric. I believe Ms. Rosewood has gone missing. I’ll be back momentarily, I’m certain…” With that, the old Imperator rose from the table.

[Eevee]

IC: Lynae

 

Lynae slowly opened the bathroom door, her mascara slightly smeared around her eyes as she emerged. She leaned against the wall, still out of sight of diners at the restaurant.

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Romulus)

“Ah. Ms. Rosewood.” The Imperator had spotted the vampire quite quickly, all things considered. “Your exit was quite abrupt. A sensitive topic I take it?”

[Eevee]

IC: Lynae

 

The Black Queen looked up at Romulus and forced a smile. "N-no. I'm alright. Just had to use the powder room."

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Romulus)

That clearly wasn’t the truth. He’d comforted enough widows and widowers in his time to know a brave face when he was being presented with it. He would not press the matter however, this had been draining day all things considered. “Very well then.” He smiled pleasantly, or made the attempt at least. “If you have anything you need to say to Alaric….” Romulus gestured vaguely in the direction he had come from. “I believe he is still here.”

[Eevee]

IC: Lynae

 

The vampire slowly extended her hand to him, her blue eyes searching his face. "Let's go back to the table... Please."

[Snelly]

IC: Katherine "Kitty" Pryde

 

"Ah yes...classroom...I suppose we should pick that first. We're a bit understaffed to be quite honest, we have some completely unused classrooms you could choose from."

[Havelock Vetinari]

IC (Romulus)

Romulus still looked old, ancient in fact. His face was still a youthful thirty, but the eyes seemed like they were old enough to have seen the great-saber toothed cat walk the earth. “Very well. Let us see what can be salvaged from this night.”

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC:

A month ago. UNKNOWN.

Nick Fury was in the bowels of heII, armed only with a manilla folder.

It seemed like as soon as word of Daken Akihiro's latest antics in the Deep South had struck the ears of the intelligence community, Fury was being summoned here, to this godawful place of all places. He'd been stripped of all his weapons and every credential had been examined almost ad nauseum. All he'd been left with was his dignity (and there wasn't much of that to be spread about at this point) and the folder he'd brought in the first place. It was thick, largely documents and reports and photographs, with six vial-shaped bulges in the center. The armed guards he'd been given at the last checkpoint led him through a veritable Pan's Labyrinth of doors with three numerical keycodes, and elevators that had no music, and stairs that seemed to stretch on towards infinity and oblivion. When at last the Director of SHIELD thought the journey could stretch on no longer, they stopped in front of a door the color of onyx and knocked once. That was anticlimactic, he thought dryly, even as they stepped into an equally dark office - the only light was two Chinese-style lamps on two corners of his desk that didn't cast much of a glow at all. The innocent tag GENERAL MILES MORALES sat between them.

They were all that was on his desk, and not just in the way of decoration - not a single paper adorned his workspace. No pens. No pictures of his family. This man is a phantom, Fury thought suddenly. He could disappear tomorrow, and when you take that name tag off the desk no one would know.

"Colonel," said the General with a respectful nod of his head, though he did not turn.

"We have it. Daken Akihiro's DNA sample from the pickup," Fury said, holding his drop into the air between them and then sliding it across the man's desk. General Morales smiled, but still didn't turn around to look at him; he saw the man's vague reflection through a tinted window, made out the dark eyes and dark smile, but nothing else. He saw a glint in the eyes, though; it was hungry, as though he'd been waiting for a particular dish a long time and had weaned himself off pure determination until it left the kitchens. "If I may--"

"You may," said the General.

Nick Fury was not perturbed. "We had Akihiro in our fist. We could have gotten a lot from him, on a lot of people. Osborn. Hydra. Maybe even the--"

"I know what Akihiro knew," interrupted the General simply. "And he escaped."

"Your Blue Meanies let him escape. He was a dangerous mutant."

"We have some of our own, Colonel. I wouldn't make a fuss," Generla Morales said, in a voice that implied some inside joke Fury had never been privy to. The three-star general made a show of standing and flicking a minute amount of dust off the powerful shoulders of his uniform, a little too close to Fury's direction for comfort. The Director of SHIELD was not accustomed to feeling like a trash bin. "But enough of these dangerous mutants. The Archangels did their job, as you've done yours. This country owes you its thanks."

Now Nick Fury was a bit perturbed. He didn't like the way this conversation was going at all - the hornets were buzzing in the base of his skull. The holster where he'd stored his gun hung loosely by his side; the Director never knew emptiness could weigh so much. "It owes me answers."

"No, I'm rather sure it just owes you thanks. The rest is above your pay grade."

Fury fought to remain controlled. Here, he knew, he was on thin ice; on a Helicarrier, or even on the ground in Washington, he would have something resembling high ground. But there were corners of America where people who asked too many questions or ###### off the wrong people just...disappeared. Dead zones. He'd known many a good agent to fall into one because he didn't have the head for politics. "I've been serving this country since you were still wiping your ###### with your own jacket in Vietnam. I've been Director of SHIELD since before your kids were alive. I--"

"Have done your country many a good deed, Colonel. No one is denying it. But you have no part in this. The powers that be would like to keep it that way. As soon as I put my hand on that folder, you're out of the loop."

Try as he might to act otherwise, he was a little relieved at that, but his pride (###### his pride!) got the better of him one final time, and with his Avengers in mind, he pressed one last time for answers. For the first time in his life, Director Nick Fury felt his age. "What do you know, General?"

"Much more than you, Colonel," said General Morales, with that same dark smile, and he put his hand on the folder.

******

Present day. Washington, D.C., USA. Nineteen hours after HYDRA.

"And with that, I'd like to hand it to General Morales, who may be able to shine a bit more light on the government response in the days ahead," said the White House Press Secretary, remarkably composed against the dull roar of questions and flashing cameras. The headlines were already halfway through writing themselves when Morales took the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Press Corps," he began respectfully, impeccable and powerful looking in his old Army uniform. "Do you believe in angels?"

He stopped there for a second - as he'd expected, slowly, the roar quieted. He had their attention. The power of a good hook, he thought, and smiled.

"I do. I believe in a world where a parent can feel okay about letting their child go off to school on their own without having to think, Will I ever see him again? I believe in a world where we do not have to look at someone as human or mutant, friend or foe, threat or not. I believe in an America that can maintain its status as a world power for our children, and for their children, and for their children's children. So does the President. So does everyone who's been involved in this initiative. And we hope you will, too. Ladies and gentlemen...I believe in angels. Because they're here."

It was a good speech, and some of the reporters wondered whether the military had been sitting on their own model of Dominik Lord the whole time, but the murmurs started fresh when Morales gestured expansively for a large video projector to be wheeled out to around where he was standing.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Press Corps, it is my pleasure to announce to you today that the Sentinel project has been disbanded." Now the roar started again, and questions were being barked even as Morales leaned forward into the mic and repeated himself. "The program has long been a staple of our domestic defense, so I understand your concerns. Where would we be, after all, if mutants were allowed to roam unchecked? What soldier could hope to stand against a force that can use the elements, the timestream, our very bodies and minds against us? What could stand guard more diligently than a Sentinel? I would argue there is no need to stand guard. Do these mutants not need the same will to commit crimes as we normal humans? Do they not love? Do they not fear punishment? If the proper failsafes are in place, then they can live as freely as everyone in this very room now. But General, you may ask, without the Sentinels, what possible failsafe could hope to hold them? To which I present, ladies and gentlemen...the Archangel."

The compilation of footage started to roll. Training clips, against a government watermark, showed soldiers training with various weapons both current and future-grade, weaving through obstacles, training in hand-to-hand, executing combat drills. Each soldier was clearly different, but there was something about them that all looked the same - their remarkable blue coloration lent each of them similar features, and all their eyes were an inhuman blue. The only other thing they had in common besides that - soldiers and demolitions, engineers and snipers and doctors alike - was their sheer mastery of their craft. Mutters and phone calls echoed through the auditorium as the screen flickered to a very different image, this time without a watermark - New York City, scarred but majestic, and an aircraft carrier docked off what remained of Liberty Island. As one, something rippled on the deck of the ship, like a steel tidal wave, and then rose into the air. Only when it was above the city proper did the wave start to break up into pieces and make landfall, and then the reporters saw what it was and gasped audibly as one, whether they were already on the phone or not.

The skies above New York City were raining angels.

"Ladies, gentlemen," said the voice of General Morales from everywhere and nowhere, "God has truly blessed America. See? He's sent his angels to protect us."

On the ground of New York City, on the ground in California, on the ground in Texas, on the ground by the Great Lakes, and at military installations across the world, the Archangels were deployed. Each had their mission statement ingrained in their head like their own name - Peace. Order. Justice.

Death to HYDRA.

...

-Tyler

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: Quinn St. Stark continued to mope down the halls, having already finished his sandwich but pulled another juice box from his jacket pocket and sipped it nonchalantly as he walked. Things had been pretty easy for him; he had remained out of conflict, as his moniker hinted at, and preferred to remain in the academy to learn and become better at being a mutant.

 

It had been a hard thing for him to accept what he was back at home in the Pacific Northwest, but as soon as he stepped into the halls of the X-Manor that changed. Here he was accepted, taken in, provided for and helped. He didn't have a reason to leave until he was content with himself, and as of yet he still believed there was plenty more he could learn. When he wasn't in class (not that there were many options available in recent terms) he liked to just wander the grounds, which often could be seen as a form of "snooping." It wasn't actually snooping, of course, but the more he heard the more he knew.

 

In this case he knew that there was a new teacher to the facility and ended up moping his way up to her. The new girl wasn't alone, being escorted by Kitty, but three's a crowd and he was cool with a crowd. "Hey," the perceptive young man said as he came up, confident enough to say a salutaion but too shy to do anything more.

[Eevee]

IC: Lilliana

 

"Thank you Ms. Pryde." She said with a smile as they walked.

 

However when she heard a voice she turned around and gave the stranger a slightly smaller smile, a more nervous and unsure one. "Oh hello! Are you a teacher here, too?"

 

 

IC: Lynae

 

"Ok." The vampire said as she got up, brushing up her blue dress and nodded. "Yes... Let us go now then."

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: "Ummm no," Quinn replied. He'd never been asked that before, even by the new kids; sure, he looked pretty polished and put together but he still had those boyish looks and fascinated eyes of a pupil. He thought it was obvious, anyway.

 

"... I'm Quinn. I'm a student."

[Blair the Cat]

IC:

 

"So, any idea of what we're going to do once we find her?"

[Snelly]

IC: Katherine "Kitty" Pryde

 

"Ah, hello Quinn." Kitty didn't really know Quinn that well, but his name and face were familiar to her, she made it a point to remember as many students as she could, not an easy task.

IC: Ashley

 

"Ummmm....I'm not sure." Ashley said honestly. "Try to calm her down as nonviolently as possible?"

[Eevee]

IC: Lilliana

 

Lilliana's face turned a bright shade of pink as she put an icy hand forward. "I'm sorry... My name is Lilliana Schneider, I'm your English teacher." She then turned red again. "It's nice to meet you!" She added hastily.

[Blair the Cat]

IC:

 

"Last time you made a plan, we both ended up jumping out of a window."

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

"Right..." Kristen said, lowering her head. The guard/person was right. She was merely a guest here, and if Lynae found out...

 

"I see your point..." Kristen was told, starting to backtrack to Lynae's room.

 

-

Trinity, upon finishing her meal, had left the table. As evident by the quietness in the area, she was preoccupied with -some-thing. Whatever it was, she hadn't made a sound. She did however, leave clues. The only evidence to her location was the emptiness of the apartment, and the fact that the bathroom door was almost shut. Closed so that light seeped out from the cracks between the door and the doorframe.

[EmperorWhenua]

Hi: "Hi, Kitty," Quinn said casually and sipped at his box.

 

He remained sort of mild and shy up until Lilliana professed her field of study, then his face lit up considerably with enthusiasm. "My name is Quinn St. Stark, and English major from Lewis and Clark College!" he chirped. "It's a real treat to meet a fellow of like mind."

Edited February 1, 2014 by Daenerys Targaryen

[Eevee]

IC: Lilliana

 

"I was an English major at UVA!" She said excitedly. "It is indeed a real treat! What is your favorite work of English literature?" She asked with a large smile on her face, the shyness gone.

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: "My favourite?" Quinn gawked. "I-I don't have one, what with so many works and short life's exposure to them," he confessed. "But I greatly admire the works of E. A. Poe, Charles Dickens and Ambrose Bierce. What about you?"

[25K Now!]

IC: Mikhail

 

Upon noticing the disappearance of Trinity, the SHIELD agent quietly set down his fork and knife, standing up from his seat and moving off to the bathroom door. He knocked.

[Eevee]

IC: Lilliana

 

"I wouldn't be an English teacher if I didn't love Shakespeare. But I'm also fond of Oscar Wilde, Dickens, and.. And... Just all of them! Have you read Beowulf?"

[AuRon the champion]

IC:

 

There was a sound from inside the bathroom of someone who had been startled, and of course one of the select special words Aella had taught her. Trinity cracked the door open more, looking up at Mikhail.

 

"Oh, it's just you," She said with a sigh, stepping back as she rubbed her bare shoulders. She obviously wasn't paying attention to what had been going on before entering the bathroom, nor was privy to the fact that she had accidentally branded herself as a troublemaker.

 

"I was just looking..." She said, tapping her shoulder, "I remember how Aella and Tera acted earlier... I still don't see anything weird."

[25K Now!]

IC: Mikhail

 

"Their actions and my bathroom are wholly unrelated."

[AuRon the champion]

Ic:

 

"Well, I can not see my back." Trinity said, frowning, "I have to use the funny wall to see my back."

[25K Now!]

IC: Mikhail

 

"It is a mirror."

[Light]

IC: "Warren, it smells like effort out here. I don't like it."

 

IC: Tali's hands fell from Dallas' head as he came to and sat up, her face falling a little when he mentioned going back before she covered it up again, wincing in empathetic pain. "Dal..."

 

IC: Alyssa didn't like this. At all. True, the Sentinels had never been the most reliable troops, but the Archangels were an entirely other matter.

 

Still, she stood to the right of Morales, at attention, with the shield held over her lower torso and upper legs, still blindfolded.

 

Paladin, meanwhile, was on the other, though his emotions were more unreadable than Nike's. Her jaw was clenched and her muscles slightly tensed, but he seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

 

IC: "Wake up, sleepyhead."

 

Natalie poked Brando, already sitting up in bed.

Edited February 1, 2014 by Shaquille O'Kaithas

[Makuta of Time]

 

IC:

 

A month ago. UNKNOWN.

 

Nick Fury was in the bowels of heII, armed only with a manilla folder.

 

It seemed like as soon as word of Daken Akihiro's latest antics in the Deep South had struck the ears of the intelligence community, Fury was being summoned here, to this godawful place of all places. He'd been stripped of all his weapons and every credential had been examined almost ad nauseum. All he'd been left with was his dignity (and there wasn't much of that to be spread about at this point) and the folder he'd brought in the first place. It was thick, largely documents and reports and photographs, with six vial-shaped bulges in the center. The armed guards he'd been given at the last checkpoint led him through a veritable Pan's Labyrinth of doors with three numerical keycodes, and elevators that had no music, and stairs that seemed to stretch on towards infinity and oblivion. When at last the Director of SHIELD thought the journey could stretch on no longer, they stopped in front of a door the color of onyx and knocked once. That was anticlimactic, he thought dryly, even as they stepped into an equally dark office - the only light was two Chinese-style lamps on two corners of his desk that didn't cast much of a glow at all. The innocent tag GENERAL MILES MORALES sat between them.

 

They were all that was on his desk, and not just in the way of decoration - not a single paper adorned his workspace. No pens. No pictures of his family. This man is a phantom, Fury thought suddenly. He could disappear tomorrow, and when you take that name tag off the desk no one would know.

 

"Colonel," said the General with a respectful nod of his head, though he did not turn.

 

"We have it. Daken Akihiro's DNA sample from the pickup," Fury said, holding his drop into the air between them and then sliding it across the man's desk. General Morales smiled, but still didn't turn around to look at him; he saw the man's vague reflection through a tinted window, made out the dark eyes and dark smile, but nothing else. He saw a glint in the eyes, though; it was hungry, as though he'd been waiting for a particular dish a long time and had weaned himself off pure determination until it left the kitchens. "If I may--"

 

"You may," said the General.

 

Nick Fury was not perturbed. "We had Akihiro in our fist. We could have gotten a lot from him, on a lot of people. Osborn. Hydra. Maybe even the--"

 

"I know what Akihiro knew," interrupted the General simply. "And he escaped."

 

"Your Blue Meanies let him escape. He was a dangerous mutant."

 

"We have some of our own, Colonel. I wouldn't make a fuss," Generla Morales said, in a voice that implied some inside joke Fury had never been privy to. The three-star general made a show of standing and flicking a minute amount of dust off the powerful shoulders of his uniform, a little too close to Fury's direction for comfort. The Director of SHIELD was not accustomed to feeling like a trash bin. "But enough of these dangerous mutants. The Archangels did their job, as you've done yours. This country owes you its thanks."

 

Now Nick Fury was a bit perturbed. He didn't like the way this conversation was going at all - the hornets were buzzing in the base of his skull. The holster where he'd stored his gun hung loosely by his side; the Director never knew emptiness could weigh so much. "It owes me answers."

 

"No, I'm rather sure it just owes you thanks. The rest is above your pay grade."

 

Fury fought to remain controlled. Here, he knew, he was on thin ice; on a Helicarrier, or even on the ground in Washington, he would have something resembling high ground. But there were corners of America where people who asked too many questions or ###### off the wrong people just...disappeared. Dead zones. He'd known many a good agent to fall into one because he didn't have the head for politics. "I've been serving this country since you were still wiping your ###### with your own jacket in Vietnam. I've been Director of SHIELD since before your kids were alive. I--"

 

"Have done your country many a good deed, Colonel. No one is denying it. But you have no part in this. The powers that be would like to keep it that way. As soon as I put my hand on that folder, you're out of the loop."

 

Try as he might to act otherwise, he was a little relieved at that, but his pride (###### his pride!) got the better of him one final time, and with his Avengers in mind, he pressed one last time for answers. For the first time in his life, Director Nick Fury felt his age. "What do you know, General?"

 

"Much more than you, Colonel," said General Morales, with that same dark smile, and he put his hand on the folder.

 

******

 

Present day. Washington, D.C., USA. Nineteen hours after HYDRA.

 

"And with that, I'd like to hand it to General Morales, who may be able to shine a bit more light on the government response in the days ahead," said the White House Press Secretary, remarkably composed against the dull roar of questions and flashing cameras. The headlines were already halfway through writing themselves when Morales took the stage.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Press Corps," he began respectfully, impeccable and powerful looking in his old Army uniform. "Do you believe in angels?"

 

He stopped there for a second - as he'd expected, slowly, the roar quieted. He had their attention. The power of a good hook, he thought, and smiled.

 

"I do. I believe in a world where a parent can feel okay about letting their child go off to school on their own without having to think, Will I ever see him again? I believe in a world where we do not have to look at someone as human or mutant, friend or foe, threat or not. I believe in an America that can maintain its status as a world power for our children, and for their children, and for their children's children. So does the President. So does everyone who's been involved in this initiative. And we hope you will, too. Ladies and gentlemen...I believe in angels. Because they're here."

 

It was a good speech, and some of the reporters wondered whether the military had been sitting on their own model of Dominik Lord the whole time, but the murmurs started fresh when Morales gestured expansively for a large video projector to be wheeled out to around where he was standing.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Press Corps, it is my pleasure to announce to you today that the Sentinel project has been disbanded." Now the roar started again, and questions were being barked even as Morales leaned forward into the mic and repeated himself. "The program has long been a staple of our domestic defense, so I understand your concerns. Where would we be, after all, if mutants were allowed to roam unchecked? What soldier could hope to stand against a force that can use the elements, the timestream, our very bodies and minds against us? What could stand guard more diligently than a Sentinel? I would argue there is no need to stand guard. Do these mutants not need the same will to commit crimes as we normal humans? Do they not love? Do they not fear punishment? If the proper failsafes are in place, then they can live as freely as everyone in this very room now. But General, you may ask, without the Sentinels, what possible failsafe could hope to hold them? To which I present, ladies and gentlemen...the Archangel."

 

The compilation of footage started to roll. Training clips, against a government watermark, showed soldiers training with various weapons both current and future-grade, weaving through obstacles, training in hand-to-hand, executing combat drills. Each soldier was clearly different, but there was something about them that all looked the same - their remarkable blue coloration lent each of them similar features, and all their eyes were an inhuman blue. The only other thing they had in common besides that - soldiers and demolitions, engineers and snipers and doctors alike - was their sheer mastery of their craft. Mutters and phone calls echoed through the auditorium as the screen flickered to a very different image, this time without a watermark - New York City, scarred but majestic, and an aircraft carrier docked off what remained of Liberty Island. As one, something rippled on the deck of the ship, like a steel tidal wave, and then rose into the air. Only when it was above the city proper did the wave start to break up into pieces and make landfall, and then the reporters saw what it was and gasped audibly as one, whether they were already on the phone or not.

 

The skies above New York City were raining angels.

 

"Ladies, gentlemen," said the voice of General Morales from everywhere and nowhere, "God has truly blessed America. See? He's sent his angels to protect us."

 

On the ground of New York City, on the ground in California, on the ground in Texas, on the ground by the Great Lakes, and at military installations across the world, the Archangels were deployed. Each had their mission statement ingrained in their head like their own name - Peace. Order. Justice.

 

Death to HYDRA.

 

...

 

-Tyler

OOC: In response to this since I have nothing else to do.

IC: Jack and John

As the duo walked out of the garden, they saw angels coming down to earth. But these angels were different, they were blue.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know..."John's heart began to race. "But I don't like it."

 

IC: Marauder

"Now why would I shot a mutant if they don't try to attack me? That's illegal plus I'd get fired."

[Constructelf]

IC Tokiomi

Right now...

 

Tokiomi continued staring. Finally, he sighed, mumbling "Not my problem; I'm in Intelligence," and walked off. "I'm gonna go process our findings," he called to the rest of the group. "Time is of the essence." Walking through the Brotherhood encampment, he surveyed both thew wounded and those treating the wounded, giving them quick glances, before moving along in disinterest. "Again, not my problem."

 

OOC open for interaction.

 

Nineteen hours later...

If Vincent had put in the required programming for drastic emotional responses into Tokiomi's "identity matrix" or whatever he called it, the agent surely would have slammed his head down on the table hard enough to split it in half.

 

"What. The. . Are. They. Thinking?"

 

... Is what Vincent would have thought, but Tokiomi, true to the entity he was, gave little more than a raised eyebrow. The agent was currently in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York offices, having turned his attention away from whatever he was doing at the moment and to the press conference advertising the new "Archangel" program, sparing brief glances out the window to the sight of blue men falling from the sky.

 

"Their decision to publicly announce this potentially controversial initiative, is... To be perfectly honest, it's somewhat stupid." The agent was seemingly talking to himself, giving no indication that anybody was listening in on his mutterings. "Why would you reveal your greatest superweapon for all to see when you don't even know where your enemy hides? For a government notorious for keeping secrets, I'm surprised that this isn't one of them." Satisfied with what he saw, he returned to his work, pushing the matter to the back of his mind.

[shadow pridak money gang]

IC: "Warren, it smells like effort out here. I don't like it."

 

 

IC:

 

"Elizabeth, darling, this is called a workplace. People spend all day making an effort on things here." Warren grinned in good-natured sadism and clasped Betsy's hand, leading her from the hallway down further into the school proper. "And here is where people learn new things and work all day."

 

IC:

 

The Red Cross. Right. Blast victims. It was all so absurd that a small laugh bubbled up from Aleks Belikov's lips before he could stop himself. We're just a couple of innocents. Can't you tell?

 

John and Kane had both turned to look at him, and he rolled his eyes. They wouldn't have gotten the joke, so he motioned for Johnson to hand him a smoke of his own and held it above the former Weapon's fingers, waiting for a light. When it snapped, he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a long, relaxed drag. That's more like it. Now that his head was clearing from the post-unconsciousness fog, he thought briefly that the X-Men should know what happened and pulled out his phone. His Droid X had a crack in it stretching from the top of the screen down to about the center of his touchpad, the corners were all chipped, and it took him a forceful tap or two to get the touchscreen working, but despite the cosmetic damage it worked right as rain after a few seconds of troubleshooting. He pulled up his contact list and hit the first option - emergency contacts.

 

Christine Marie.

Matt Summers.

Rebekah Fell.

 

"Howlett, go outside and tell Christine what happened. She'll want to hear your voice, make sure you're alright. She'll want to talk to you." I ###### up. I judged the situation on its merits, knew it was doomed, and I let Matt keep going. She'll find out that I let him die. A weariness he hadn't felt in years - the weight of failure - seeped into his gut. "I'm gonna play catchup with a war buddy."

 

John looked at Aleks long and hard with those blank white eyes (that had been one of Daken's worst atrocities, those eyes) and then took the phone with a nod. The thief couldn't help but notice the way Howlett hobbled out of the tent, like someone had taken a hammer to his feet and then only let a third of the bones mend. He turned to Kane.

 

"Red Cross, huh, Johnson? Have you gone humanitarian on me? Are you going to tell me next that you've accepted our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, into your heart of hearts?"

 

-Tyler

Edited February 1, 2014 by Aegon Targaryen

[Light]

IC: "I became a psionic ninja to avoid working at places and learning things."

[AuRon the champion]

Ic:

 

"Well, I'm using the mirror to look at my back," trinity said, stepping back and turning around so that her back, tattoo included, was visible in the mirror behind her. She was looking back at the mirror, trying to find what the reason was for Aellas previous outburst the day prior.

 

"Mikhail... Does my back not look like everyone else's?" Trinity asked from inside the restroom, "like how I'm the only one without the weird belly buttons?"