Logan was glad to be away from the mess. He was, for once in the longest time, happy and was able to find the peace that he needed. He rode his bike upstate on the open road until he came to his small and familiar neck of the woods where his small little cabin hid away behind thick foliage and small lake.

There were barely any amenities within the cabin, except for a small and old television, which barely picked up any channels and often needed its attenae played with in order to get anything in clear, and a small refridgerator, which was used for keeping water and beer cold. Everything else Logan would get from outside. His shower, his food, and most of his entertainment.

There were no students to worry about and no mansion grounds being destroyed. All that he had to worry about out here was himself. As he sat within a small wooden chair outside of the cabin which overlooked the lake, with a small fire going at his side, and a fresh kill of deer hanging from a low branch of a nearby tree, Logan knew that life was good.

Waiting Game

Unlike his counterpart, Rogue, Gambit had gone without a lot of fuss. He was smart, smart enough to know when it was time to fight and when it was time to play nice.

As it was, he couldn’t hold the X-Men to blame for their actions towards what was left of the Brotherhood. They were just looking after their own interests, the same way Magneto had when he’d seen both himself and Mystique out.

Screw everyone else, Pyro included.

Gambit had known from the get go that something about him was off, different, not quite right. He’d always been intuitive and he tended to read between the lines whereas most people just saw the black and white, there were no grey areas for people like the X-Men.

For the moment he lingered in his cell, card flickering from finger to finger as Gambit’s mind turned over everything that had happened. It seemed far too convenient that the moment John erupted into chaos the government just happened to show up; didn’t anyone else think that odd?

Gambit flipped the card away, watched as the red glow flickered and died long before the ace of spades hit the bottom of the bunk. All it was was one long waiting game.

Scott had already asked him his questions and Gambit had answered to the best of his ability, he had no allegiance to Magneto and certainly any and all loyalty had been forfeit the moment the other man had run.

They couldn’t keep them locked up forever and even if they tried, Gambit would find a way out.
  • Current Mood
    bored bored

(no subject)

The time for talking was over. Xavier tried that, it got him nothing; worse then nothing. His school was ruined, the children were in danger, and he was beginning to question his entire code of ethics. Just thinking about this meeting would compromise his morals, but Xavier reasoned it was time to take a different approach. He knew in Washington money talked and he was here at Shaw Industries to learn the rhetoric. He tried to offer Sebastian’s personal assistant a smile as she brought the two men coffee, but he was having a difficult time stomaching it.

“Cut the crap, Xavier,” Shaw broke the silence when the girl exited the office. “I know why you’re here,” he said in a meandering tone as he stood away from his desk, turning his back to Charles. He went and stood by the window, pondering the view from the 110th floor of the Shaw Building. “Word travels fast and even faster when you aren’t suppose to know about something. I’m sympathetic towards your plight. I’d just as soon give you the money…” he paused and glanced over his shoulder at the older man, “Chump change…But that’s bad business. If I scratch your back, you scratch mine. I want X-Corp stock options, a seat on the board,” thick fingers rubbed his chin in thought, “Immunity from your X-men and one more thing.” He leaned on the glass desk, perched up on the tips of fingers, almost leering at Xavier, “Emma Frost.” Sebastian cleared his throat, straightened himself up and adjusted his tie, “These are my demands and for that whatever money you want,” he flicked his hand through the air, “To fix your school, buy your way into Washington, whatever you want, just make the White Queen come back to us. She doesn’t belong with you anyways. Well, Charles? What do you say?”

Xavier cleared his throat, Shaw was certainly asking for a lot, but Charles was at the end of his rope and desperate. “Done,” he said with grave finality. Sebastian’s lips curled into a smile as he seated himself in front of Xavier once more, “That wasn’t so hard,” he said as he pulled a check book from the desk drawer. Lifting his Mont Blanc pen to the stiff page he began to fill it the information. He looked up at Xavier, “Fifteen million…” he said scrawling it onto the line, “A nice even number…” Then with a couple of quick motions, he placed his signature on the check, before handing it to Charles. “Don’t forget now, Xavier.”


Mandatory council in the war room had commenced, Charles did not smile, or express in anyway for that matter. “I do not need to remind any of you that this is not a time to be acting flippant, the children need us. “ He paused for a moment, then added, “We are all exhausted, angry…our nerves red and raw, but yet I remain determined. Determined to provide safe haven for mutants, for these children. For their sake, let us work just a little longer….”

“I have come to the decision that this institute is no longer safe for the students and while we rebuild the school shall be relocated. I’ve had a difficult time finding a facility to use as our adjunct. The budget at the moment is very strained, but I’ve allocated some money for travel, room and board, and use of facilities. Ororo and Emma are to take the students to a small school in California, away from the fighting. I’m disposing the Juniors to help you with these matters.” He passed two bounded dossiers for Storm and Emma each.

“Our next matter of concern, is the Brotherhood. At the moment I am keeping Pyro suspended in a hybernative state until the cause of behavior can be determined. But that still leaves the matter of Rogue and..” Xavier flipped the pages of the next set of dossiers, “Remy LeBeau aka Gambit. I do not wish to take chances, especially while the school is being rebuilt. Until this time we are to assume they are just as dangerous as Pyro. Therefore they need to be detained and tested, in detention cells, C, D and E in the east wing. Scott, Logan…” He addressed both men, “I will need you to work together to solve this matter.”

“Scott, there are also students who are too injured to travel and the matter of Jean, we need to help Dr. McCoy whenever necessary. A parent has stepped forward, a nurse Annie Ghazikhanian and volunteered to help us in our moment of need. A room needs to be prepared for her.”

“And so we know what the left hand is doing while the right is busy, I am going to Washington to straighten this matter out. I have a feeling they will listen to me this time…” he furrowed his brows, suggesting he was going to do a little more than talk. “I will also be meeting with our investors who have taken a great deal of interest in the institute an X-Corp, mainly our greatest contributor, Sebastian Shaw of Shaw Industries.”


Collapse )


There had been so much destruction that Ororo hadn’t even known where to start and she’d attempted to retreat into her greenhouse only to find it destroyed. Blue eyes slid over the mangled mass of metal and glass and her heart felt heavy in her chest.

She swallowed hard and bent down to trail the tips of her fingers over the soil that lay scattered amongst the rubble that had been her greenhouse; her plants were either dead or in the process of dying and it was just so hard to stomach.

Where did she even begin? How did she piece things back together again? She supposed these were the questions a great many would be asking themselves for days to come.

Hissing in a slight breath, Ororo pulled her hand back to her and swiped her thumb through the blood pooling on her index finger. There had been too much aggression, far too much destruction and she was tired of it.

She was weary, tired of this, and aching for a peace she knew was never going to happen and yet she never stopped hoping for it. Perhaps she was a fool but she knew no other way to be. Any other way would make her bitter and resentful and she would never be that person.

Folding her hands around her knees, Ororo stared at the mess that stood in place of her once glorious greenhouse and breathed out slowly. Her emotions were in turmoil, churning deep beneath her controlled surface and she could feel them begging for release and try as she might she couldn’t keep the skies under control.

The children had been threatened; their home nearly destroyed and worst of all the authorities had practically ransacked the mansion grounds. It was bad enough that John had done what he had, for whatever reason Ororo didn’t even know but this; this was just the last straw.

For months she had been carrying the mansion and the responsibility and she was so tired of everything that she didn’t even blink as the skies opened and the rain came down.

Let it rain, she was tired of hiding everything.
  • Current Mood
    moody moody
Ms. Marvel/Carol Danvers

(no subject)

With the wind at her back Ms. Marvel flew with ease from the city to Westchester, with one thing on her mind: her mission. It was the last fail safe in the government's plan to initiate registration. Her orders were given, the specifics were classified and depending on the outcome two planned spin stories were already being fabricated: the general public was on a need to know basis.

Unscrewing the top on her Mountain Dew, Rogue tipped back the bottle and took a swig. She surveyed the lawn, a lot of the wreckage still needed to be cleared away, she needed all the energy she could afford. About to return the bottle from the large pocket of her cargo pants, something caught the corner of the eye. It streaked across the sky and then it was gone. Before she knew it, Rogue, she was eating pavement; hit from behind with all the force of a Kree superhero.

Satisfied that Rogue was down, Carol strode into the school fully confident in the success of her mission. Coming across mostly students, who stood there and gaped long enough to be struck, she had now difficulties finding Xavier's office. It was just as she had planned, most of the X-men and Magneto were taking council in the subterranean parts of the mansion. Sitting on the corner of the telepath's desk she grabbed the microphone to the P.A. system, giving her head a toss, swinging golden curls over her shoulder, Carol clicked the button down. She chuckled at first, "Epsilon, Omega, Ten, One, Alpha, Go," the activation code. She released the button, then paused for a moment. Ms. Marvel clicked it again and spoke, "You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense."

Tossing the mic aside, Carol took to the air, bursting through the ceilings until she was outside once more. Hidden in the clouds, she waited until the flames began to rise.

(no subject)

In spite of the fact that he was drained, both physically and mentally, Charles Xavier knew that his job was far from over. There was still so much that needed to be done, and, as headmaster and founder of the school, it was his job to do it. The attack had managed to do one thing to him: it had managed to put a chink in the armor that was his resolve. Was he really making the right decision? Or had he made a great and incalculable error in deciding to put all of the children in a space that made them vulnerable? Ultimately, he decided that his choices were correct, that if he did not do it they would have nowhere to be. But, as he wheeled through the medical bay of his establishment, he felt that guilt rise up again. So many hurt students. And it all fell on his head.

The man did what he could for his charges. A handful of them were telepathically sedated in addition to the physical drugs that they were given to ease the pain. The body’s pain was important to diminish, but so was the mind’s, if not more important. He could hear them. He could hear them wondering why it was happening. Wondering what had happened to their friends. There were answers that Charles could give, but they would have to wait until there was a better time.

His final stop was arguably his most important, and puzzling. Every other student seemed to have something that was easily identified and explained their condition. Julian was the exception. It was the way that the young man frequently wanted it to be. Always the exception.

“Thank you for coming, Charles.” Hank stood behind the man. “You know I wouldn’t have called for you if I did not feel that it was necessary.”

Charles gave a meek smile, “I trust you to do everything that you can for these young people, Henry, you know that. But there are limits to everyone’s abilities. Even yours, I’m afraid. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to come here.”

“Everyone knows that you have a lot on your mind right now. If you need someone to talk with…”

“You’re near the top of my list.” The offer was more than enough. But Charles was a prideful man. It was not in his nature to ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary. “Has there been any change in his condition?”

“Sadly, no. Cessily’s been here almost the entire time, doing everything that she possibly could to see if something would act as a catalyst and bring him back. I told her she needed some rest. Really, I just didn’t want her here when you came, just in case.”

“A wise choice.” Charles knew of the unusual, but special, bond that Cessily and Julian shared. Different walks of life that met on some stray path and formed a strong bond. Mentally, the telepath scanned the immediate area, just in case she decided to try and be covert about sticking around. When he was certain that they truly were alone, he spoke once more, “I’m going inside. Maybe I can stir him awake.”

It was always an oddity whenever Charles entered the mind of another individual. Human or mutant. Their mind, at least the inside, was always something random and unexpected. He had seen many things in his time. From a lush and beautiful meadow, to the chaos of a Warfield. The mind made the landscape. And that was mostly the reason why he was so stunned to see where he was at that moment. A… playground?

The mammoth structure took up most of his view. But he could see a house in the distance. Perhaps Julian was inside the house. But why would the man have not been put in the house directly? It was only when he began to walk forward that he saw a gentle swaying of a line out of the corner of his eye. He turned the corner and saw the young man sitting on a tire swing, the movement of the ropes gently rocking the object back and forth. “Julian…”

“Professor?” His cerulean eyes looked at the man. “You’re… walking?”

“When inside the mind, I have no limitations.”

“Right. I should have remembered that.” Basic knowledge, taught towards the beginning of their time at the school. Building blocks, or something like that. “What are you doing here?”

“You know why I’m here, Julian. I’m here to help you. To free you from this prison you’ve subjected yourself to.”

“I did do this on purpose, didn’t I?” He asked. “When I first came here, one of the first things that you told me was that if I pushed myself too much I could end up getting hurt, really badly. But I didn’t have a choice, Professor. Those things were attacking the school. They were attacking my home. And they were hurting people who I knew. Don’t yell at me, because we both know that you would have done the exact same thing.”

“I did not come here to yell at you or reprimand you in any way. And you are correct, I would have done the exact same thing if I were you. In fact, I am exceedingly proud of you, Julian. You made a huge potential sacrifice to save innocent lives. That is what an X-Man does.”

“Does that mean I get a promotion? I can get off the tee-ball squad and start playing with the majors?”

“You would need to wake up, first. Cessily is worried about you. And she isn’t the only one. You’re needed, Julian.”

Julian’s mood changed. “You know, when I was a little kid, I would just spend hours out here, on this swing. I guess that’s why I came back here. The memories aren’t very comforting, but this was always my own little sanctuary. I used to hate those commercials. The ones they show around the holidays, with those picture perfect families who get together and have a good time around turkey and all that other food. I would always say that was not the way that families were. And then I would wonder why my family couldn’t be like that. Even around the holidays. Why couldn’t my family, for just a little while, be normal. Instead… I have the kooky Kellers’ as my family… and they do such horrible things. That’s why I’m here, sir, because I can’t face them… not after they realize what happened.”

“What did happen?” Charles asked. He was met with complete silence. “Julian, please, tell me what happened.” But the young man would not respond. “Maybe I should just try and reach further into your mind and get the information, if it’s too painful for you to tell me yourself.”

“No, don’t.”

“It would help immensely.”

“I said no!” Julian yelled, his eyes burning with a fiery rage. “Get out! Get out of my head, right now!” And the world around them shattered.

Charles opened his eyes, shaken by what he had experienced.

“Charles, are you all right?” Hank could see that something went wrong. “Is Julian…”

“He pushed me out of his mind, Hank.”

“You’re the most powerful telepath on the planet, Charles. I didn’t think he could do that.”

“In theory, he can’t. If I wanted to stay, I could have. But he would have fought me with all that he had, and the damage I could have done to his brain would have been too great. I couldn’t risk that.” Charles wheeled himself up to Julian, “What are you hiding from us?” He asked lightly.

(no subject)

Maybe it was selfish of him. Yeah, it probably was. And there was a part of him that understood how selfish it was, and that part of him felt badly about it. But the other part of him? The bigger part of him? The bigger part of him really did not give a damn about the way that it felt. It was what he needed. Nobody was getting hurt. All the hurting had already been done. Nothing was going to change that.

He remembered how quickly he felt the need to run away as soon as he broke away from the girls. It was the way that he tended to act in such situations. If things got too serious, Dallas often found a way to pull himself away from them before they became too much or him to handle. And that tactic? Often, it was the same thing. No different then at that moment. Dallas found himself behind the wheel, where the world made sense, where he was in complete control.

It was a stroke of dumb luck that his car managed to get through the attack unscathed. There were still a few other vehicles that were in working condition, from the looks of it, but there were others which were damaged from the aftermath. The worry that he felt when he inched closer to the garage was mammoth. Yes, the entire world around him had gone to hell, and Dallas was concerned about something so materialistic and trite. And he thought himself better than that. Well, not really. It was a return to form for him.

The sound of the motor as it roared down the mostly empty back roads of Westchester county was incredibly comforting. It did exactly what he wanted it to do. It took him away from the things that were bothering him. It took him away from the madness that he had voluntarily subjected himself to. And it felt damn good to be away from all of that. But was it really selfish? In a way, of course it was. But who could blame him, or anyone else for that matter, for needing a moment to themselves? A moment where they could actually get away from the things that bothered them.

Was it really the right choice that he had made? With the MRA passed, and the Sentinels having attacked, maybe it was time for him to just tuck his tail in and run back to New York City. Or maybe even back to Rhode Island. Who would look for him there? How often did things happen in Rhode Island? Was being around his parents, neglected by their careers while at the same time smothered by their expectations, really worth throwing away his safety? But could they protect him? The answer to that was obvious. Even if his parents wanted to, which was a slim chance in and of itself, what could they do? They were doctors. They held weight in the medical community, and even some weight outside of it, but they weren’t the kind of people who could sway the government.

A sight caught his attention. The trees remained little more than a blur, but when something out of the ordinary hit the wave of foliage, it took him by surprise. He turned his head to see a young woman standing against the side of her car, blonde hair tied into a ponytail and with a clearly disgruntled look plastered on her face. Curious of her situation, Dallas pulled his car over and stepped out. “Can I help you with something?”

The girl looked up at him, instantly taken by the shade of his eyes. Such a bright shade of blue. Breathtaking. But her mother had always told her to never be too trusting of men, especially in New York. Her hand reached into her pocket and briefly fondled the container of pepper spray. Still, someone with eyes like that… how could they be mean? How could they be able to hurt her? After the seemingly long pause, she spoke, “My car broke down. And the trees block out the cell phone service. It figures, the one place in New York with a lot of trees, and the phone doesn’t work. No wonder the city tries so hard to keep the trees away.”

Dallas snickered softly as he looked at his phone. “You’re right, no service for me, either. But, you don’t really need a phone. What you need is someone who can fix your car, right?” She nodded. “And, I can help with that. Do you know what happened before your car stopped working?”

“It made a sound.”

“What kind of sound?”

“A sound that it shouldn’t have made. In the front. I don’t know how to describe it. I just drive the cars, I don’t study them.” Really, what did he expect of her?

“Why don’t you give me a second, and I’ll see what I can do, all right? Open your hood, please.” She followed his command, getting into the car and popping the hood open. It gave Dallas the chance that he needed to look inside. A really simple problem to fix. Sparkplug. Not even a messed up one. It just became unhinged. Someone did a really shoddy job when they attempted to fix it before. Dallas rolled up his sleeves and adjusted the object until it fit into place. His hands became dirtied with the grime of the engine. Some people hated it. Dallas? He loved it. “Why don’t you try it now?”

“Okay…” she was hesitant. Could it really be that easy? How did she know? With the turn of her key, the car came to life. “Oh my god! You fixed it!” Her smile was beautiful and genuine. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I don’t want to be late for my sorority party, and now I won’t be!”

A sorority girl? How typical. But she did not seem bad. “Not a problem. Enjoy yourself.” He shut the hood closed and took a step to the side. The girl drove away and Dallas was once more able to forget about his problems. At least for a little while.
  • nixphoe

difficulties... // ...open or narrative

Jean lived in the medlabs because it was easier for her than trying to live up there. There was a simple room with a simple cot and the hum of medical equipment. Scott might have been hurt by that decision, she wasn't sure, but Jean was insistent. It was the best course of action if she was to stay under this roof, no matter how bad of an idea it was.

The logical half of her mind that kept tapping at her reincarnated identity with disbelief suggested that this decision to stay in the disinfected section of Xavier's property came from her unconscious denial of her living body. She needed to be beneath the soil to feel comfort here.

But there was also another theory. The more fiery aspect of her personality still insisted that her old friends had ceased to be loyal the moment they left her body in the lake. She was not the same person they knew and yet they expected to see her as she was despite such disloyalty. She was uncomfortable being in their midst because of their expectations and because of the distance she felt from them.

On the other hand, what Jean had confided to Scott was also true. She believed herself to be dangerous (though not just because of her power, she was angry after reincarnation) and being around people wasn't good for a mutant who was dangerous. No one really understood just what it was that Jean could do and she wasn't inclined to tell them. Maybe John was the only one who had a clue and she'd revealed that only on impulse. Already Jean could feel the familiar weight of her history at her back, regardless of the things she still couldn't remember, and with that came the constant fear that no matter what she'd become, she'd find a way to fuck it all up in the end.

"Fuck" had become a resident in her internal vocabulary. It was far from the lady-like speech she'd maintained throughout her life. She wondered what that meant about her temper.

Jean was sitting on her pristinely clean bed, staring at flourescent lighting, and flicking through memories she thought she had in order. It was difficult to keep track of where they went. Although it would be easy enough to peer into Scott's mind (all it meant was picking up the link she'd refused to touch), Jean was determined to be independent in ordering events. It didn't take long to decide that she needed to jog her memory. The best way to do that was to revisit a familiar place. She'd done that with her parents' home in Annandale and the hospital she'd been kept once.

That's what led her to the room Scott hadn't touched since her death. The one filled with dust and old scents of a life she'd once worn so well. Getting through the door wasn't hard. She left it open just a crack, so no one would hear it shut. Jean stepped into the room, looking at the carpet, the bed, the dresser. There was a hairbrush on the floor. She remembered dropping it, in the morning, before the chaos, before Stryker, before Scott disappeared. She never put it away. Maybe it'd been a little omen--one of the many that was so often ignored as she passed.

Jean picked the brush up with her telekinesis and caught it with her hand. She didn't take care of her hair like she used to. It wasn't styled now. Just long and unruly. She touched the bristles. Control and image had been so important to her once. It made her think of the Statue of Liberty and the headaches that came after they'd saved Rogue. She'd been scared, then. Right up until she died she was scared.

Scared of what?

The brush got hot. The cheap plastic started to melt in her hand.

Of this?

The brush was whole and perfect again. Warm to the touch.

Of that.

Jean looked in the mirror and noticed the faint glow in her eyes.

Talking to yourself?

She shrugged.

Better than talking to the brush.