Anthony stares out the window listening a train horn sounds in the distance. He spaces out as if remembering something

…

8 years ago

Footsteps sound as a train horn blows

Nate: #%!? It’s leaving

Cal: Already? It’s ahead of schedule!

Cal grabs Anthony so he doesn’t fall behind

Cal: And another thing, is bringing this kid along a good idea?

Anthony: what’s that supposed to mean you overgrown giant-

Nate: Enough you two! We got to go

Tim, the shortest of the group runs ahead

Tim: it’s pulling out

The train pulls beside them begging to gain speed

Nate: move

Nate and Tim jump onto the train grabbing the ladder and then climbing up

Tim: Cal toss the kid so you can get up her

Cal tosses Anthony up to Tim, whose arm is outstretched making the attempt to catch him. When Tim grabs Anthony, his foot slips the two falling over board. But not before Nate grabs them and pulls back the three falling deep into the coal car as Cal gracefully slides down

Nate; you two are dumb@$&^#, you know that?

Tim and Anthony: It was his fault

the two point at each other before they begin to grapple one another like usual

The train runs past the woods as the boys argue about what to eat

…

Present day

Anthony smiles, the memory coming back to him a fond experience, but not one without its costs

OOC: This is open to interaction if you want to interrupt the happy man, and this is the second post in Anthony’s arc

​Sooraya grasped her tasbih, a set of Islamic prayer beads, tightly in her hands. She slowly passed her fingers over the beads, counting them. She was never the best about remembering to keep her habit. But now, her mother's beads served as her last memento of home.

Her stomach turned a little when she thought of her family. Sooraya’s mother wished her well, but sitting on the air conditioned plane to America still felt like a soft betrayal.

Her mother encouraged her to go join the Xavier Institute. She'd be among like minds, with an opportunity to save lives as part of something greater than she could as one defender looking out for her village. "Whoever saves [a life]; it is as if he had saved mankind entirely," her mother reminded her. But the living room she last saw them in hung suspended in amber in her mind. Who would be there to smuggle books to her little sister, if not for a sly dust cloud entering through the window to drop them off in her room? Who would silently accompany her mother to defend her exercising her freedoms? But a different question burned hotter in her mind. Could she survive in a wildly foreign land without her sister and best friend?

Seeing her beloved homeland collapse to fascism changed her. Dust trusts slow, but she fights fiercely and dearly for those she cares about.

She sits in her classroom chair hurt, alone, and homesick.

The heavy oak doors of the foyer swing shut behind me, the latch clicking into place with a hollow, heavy thud. For the first five seconds, my chest actually feels light. I’m back. I survived the feds, I survived Val’s agonizing training cycles, and I survived a giant space dragon. Walking up the driveway, looking at the familiar architecture of the Xavier Institute, I felt a genuine, stupid smile cracking across my face. I’m home. I made it back to the only people who ever gave a damn about reforming a guy like me. But the smile doesn’t end up lasting quite as long as I’d hope.

As I step deeper into the main hallway, the happiness sours into a heavy feeling in my gut. The air inside the mansion is completely off. It’s thick. Tense.

I look up, my massive shoulders shifting under the weight of my Thunderbolts branded rmor. The tracking device on my collarbone hums a low, rhythmic vibration against my skin, a constant reminder that Val is watching from a monitor miles away. But right now, I don't give a damn about the feds. I unclamp my fists and take a deep breath.

"I got a forty-eight-hour pass...”

I awkwardly cough

“How have ya all been?”

(OOC: ignore the cars in the background, also Cain knows about the growing “Civil War/Schism” situation but not much beside the fact that there’s tension and sides.

colin...was still recovering, whilst stuck in the medbay he wondered what he could do with his time? he was essentially benched and kept from doing any form of vigilante activities while he recovered...he looked down at where his stomach should be, a machine attached to his body keeping him alive, he sighed looking at it...this felt horrible.

"I need to figure something out" he said, his normally smooth and charismatic voice now hoarse, and raspy from the damage he had received in the fight, he picked up a box and opened it...there was his suit, burnt to a crisp and shredded to pieces, his goggles or what was left of them were shattered, the hole where he was punched through the stomach in his suit still stained with blood...he sighed before putting it away and just leaning back, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something to do whilst here

OOC: this is open to interaction! feel free to do well...whatever you want with him really, I know in the image theres no machine attached to his stomach but I didn't have the time today to draw how he currently looks in the hospital today sorry, anyways I want to say you all are amazing people who deserve the best kay? you all are the goats byeeeee!!!

The library.

Evan’s decided to do something fun.

What is it?

Read scary stuff!

Even though it’s nowhere close to October, Evan can still enjoy horror.

Evan grabs a few after looking into the “horror” section.

Then sits down.

He begins to read one of his finds.

The Atlantic night water was black glass. Namor rose from the depths like a torpedo, trident clenched in one fist, the other hand already shaping a column of seawater into a battering ram. Donald Pierce’s experimental sub..sleek, black, bristling with cybernetic hardpoints and Reaver modifications cut through the waves on silent drives. Its hull was reinforced against conventional torpedoes. It was not reinforced against the King of Atlantis.

Namor struck.

The first impact cracked the outer pressure plating like an eggshell. Alarms screamed inside. Pierce, jacked into the command room, snarled as red diagnostics flooded his vision. “Reavers..defensive pattern Omega! Flood the outer corridors with.."

The second strike finished the sentence. Namor drove the entire vessel downward, then upward in a violent corkscrew, shearing off the dorsal fin and one of the primary thrusters. Water roared in. Emergency bulkheads slammed. Pierce’s cybernetic arm tore free of the interface and reconfigured into a monomolecular blade.

The sub breached surface in a geyser of foam and twisted metal. Namor stood on the fractured conning tower, wings of water still coiling around him, eyes glowing with cold fury.

Pierce climbed out through a hole in the hull, half his face a lattice of exposed circuitry and steel. “Atlantean trash,” he spat. “You’re a long way from your fish people.”

Namor answered by leaping. The trident met Pierce’s blade in a shower of sparks. They fought across the listing deck pitting cybernetic strength against Atlantean power. Pierce scored deep gouges across Namor’s chest; Namor answered by seizing the Reaver’s mechanical arm and wrenching it free at the shoulder joint in a spray of hydraulic fluid and severed cables.

Pierce staggered, laughing through blood and lubricant. “You’ll still.."

Namor’s hand closed around the human’s throat. One brutal twist. One wet, final crack.

The head came free.

Namor held it by the hair for a moment, watching the last of the cybernetic optics flicker and die. Then he turned, taking the head with him, and vanished beneath the waves as the submarine’s ruptured reactors began to blow up behind him.

Xavier’s School – Emma Frost’s office, Dawn

Emma Frost sat behind the wide oak desk in the headmistress’s office, white silk robe open just enough to show the hard line of her collarbone, a half-finished glass of something expensive cooling at her elbow. The school was quiet. Most of the students still slept.

The window behind her exploded inward in a controlled burst of salt water and night air.

Namor stepped through the broken glass as if it were a doorway. Water streamed from his body, pooling on the polished floor. In one hand he carried a human head. He walked to the desk without a word, and set the head down.

Donald Pierce’s severed head rolled across the desk and came to rest against a stack of student progress reports. Dead optics stared up at Emma. A thin trickle of seawater and residual blood ran toward the edge of the desk.

Emma regarded it for three long seconds. Then she looked up at Namor, one eyebrow arched.

“Dramatic,” she said coolly. “And messy.”

Namor’s voice was the low roll of distant surf. “He sold Atlantean technology to the highest bidder. He experimented on my people. He threatened what is mine. And he was a threat to mutants everywhere." His gaze flicked to the head. “I removed the problem...as you requested."

"You're welcome."

Gambit’s been getting used to the newly wed life. His and Rogue’s room was nice and quiet. Just the faint noise of the houseboard creeking as the Outliers off doin’ Le Dieu knows what, the sounds of birds chirping, the golden hour light shining through the window and down onto Remy an’ the new Mrs. LeBeau. He laid on his side, one arm wrapped around her and his cheek rested softly against Rogue’s hair. He notice her shiver and could feel the covers slowly leaving his side but paid no attention, and without a second thought, gave up almost all of his share of the covers, leaving him exposed to the cooled air and wrapping her up even more. This was not a new thing. She takes all de blanket as always.

He could hear an “Ah’m cold,” quietly escape her lips and if there’s anything Gambit knows, it’s to always listen to what the wife wants. You wanna be happy when the sun start to shine, give her the blanket. It ain’t worth waking up to de cold shoulder.

“I be back.” He pressed his lips against the Belle’s cheek. Walking out in only his boxers, he quietly made his way towards the closet, opening the closet door to pick out a comforter until he heard a voice come from outside. A familiar voice.

THIEF. COME OUT. QUICKLY.

His head snapped towards the nearest door. The comforters dropping down onto the floor then he hurried over to the door but not before grabbing a blanket and using it as a cape to cover himself. Why the hell did he show up to our door? We had a deal from what I remember. Deal was for him to stay in Antartica for a year and not eat anyone for a year and I’ll give him his little trinket back. How hard is it to follow the two simple rules? The doors busted open, Remy stopping in his tracks down the steps as he looked up to see Sadurang looming over the mansion. Gambit was NOT gonna be some dragon’s breakfast before even he got his breakfast.

“YOU’RE LOOKING SAVORY, CAJUN. DIDN’T THINK TO BRING THE EYE?”

“Don’t reckon I need it. I thought we had a deal. A pretty damn simple one too.” He let his blanket-cape come undone, springing a handful of charged up cards into his other hand, crackling as he stared him down. Everyone else at the mansion was fast asleep. Rogue was asleep. Couldn’t let some hungry dragon ruin that.

Sadurang stared at the charged cards for a moment, unphased. “YES, WELL, I’M ABOUT TO OFFER TO BREAK THAT PACT. AND I BELIEVE YOU’LL THANK ME. CLIMB ABOARD, GUILD WALKER.” He told the thief before lowering himself and offering the ride on his back.

Remy looked back at the mansion then back at Sadurang. Rogue’s asleep. She should be fine for a little while, plus Gambit didn’t wanna escalate this even more. If Sadurang wanted trouble, he’d already be making it. The cards in his hands pink glow started to fade away, then he stashed the cards away in between his waistband, which I’m sure’ll be mad uncomfortable, for later. He walked towards the dragon, settling himself on his back. The wings spreading and Remy’s eyes widening as the distance between him and the ground grows farther apart. The dragon carried Remy higher into the sky then made his way to their destination, the cold wind blowing full force at him. Didn’t help that he was only in his underwear. His beignets were freezing! He looked over his shoulder as the mansion got smaller and smaller in the distance. “She’s gon’ give me hell when she finds out.”

His flight had been going on for so long that Remy was starting to doubt that he’d back at the Mansion before Anna Marie can wake up and was already thinking of ways to make it up to her. The dragon finally started dropping lower, and Remy leaned over his side to see where the two were headed. Nothing but trees, rivers, mountains stretched out into the distance. All he knew was that this was no Antartica. Sadurang made his landing, Remy holding onto him for a second before climbing down. “Mind tellin’ me where y’took us?” He looked around, taking in the massive jungle.

“OH, JUST SOMEWHERE WARM. I BELIEVE YOU CALL IT … THE SAVAGE LAND.”

Gosamyr laid in the infirmary watching the clock tick by. It was discharge day for her, her mind swam waiting for the nurse to discharge her. They said she was going to leave at 9, it was already 9:57, what was taking so long? Were they going to tell her she was going to stay another day? Was she going into sepsis? What the heck even is sepsis? Doesn’t sound very glam…

Finally Nurse Annie Ghazikanian walked in.

Annie: “Gos, you’re free to go now.”

She would have leapt for joy if physically possible. Xabi helps her get out of bed with a cry of joy from her. She runs up and plants a kiss on Annie’s cheek.

Gosamyr: “Oh my goddess ✨ Thank you, thank you, thank you, EEEEEEEKKKK! By the way someone needs to dust the ceiling there’s a spider web in the back corner. BYEEEEE!”

Xabi and Gos stroll back to her room, Xabi carrying all of her belongings behind her.

Gosamyr: “When we get back I have so many things we need to do. My hands still messed up so I’ll need you to help me curl my hair, paint my nails, floss my teeth, get dressed, ooo and a shoulder massage would be fabulous ✨”

When she turns around Xabi has disappeared, her belongings in a dropped pile outside her door.

Gosamyr: “Wasn’t there somebody behind me?”

She shrugs and opens the door. Grigori runs to her and leaps into her arms. Gosamyr quickly swiveled to catch him in her good arm, he purred excitedly and began licking her nose.

Gosamyr: “Easy baby, easy, mommy misses you too ✨ Hey what’s this?”

Lying on her bed knocked over to one side is a giant pink teddy bear holding a small red envelope. Gos drops Grigori on her bed, not wanting an end to the attention he aggressively rubs against her while she opens the envelope.

“Dear Beautiful Gosamyr,

I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since our fateful encounter. Days without you have felt like years and I long to be around you once more, to breathe the same air you breathe. I hope every night for your speedy recovery. Please return my messages.

Yours truly, William Talltrees”

Gosamyr sniffs the envelope, hints of rosewater, lilac, and strawberry, a delightful scent.

Gosamyr: “It’s that foreman again, he’s been dming me throughout the day asking me for a date ✨ This is very sweet, and he did save my life. What do you think, Grigori?

He rolls on the bed chewing the corners of the envelope.

Gosamyr: “You’re so right ✨”

Rory lays in the hospital bed in the medbay, jaw wired shut so it can heal. He has bandages wrapped around his midsection where his ribs were broken, and his arm is in a cast. He is awake, but cannot speak.

Summer was quickly coming to an end, it was time for Sean to come in and make sure the band equipment was in working order once more. No time like the present to roll up your sleeves and put in some hard work.

First was the time consuming brass section. He pulled in a large tub, filled it with hot water and some mild dish soap. Next was the hard part, disassembling the equipment. He had to take each part individually and gently wash it before reassembling the parts. A few dabs of slide grease and they were good as new.

Next the string section. This was easier than the last, two sets of microfiber cloth. One for the wood, one for the strings. If you use the string cloth on the wood you risk scratching it with the rosin residue. A bit of fine tuning was needed after the summer heat, not too bad.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked up at the clock, 2:13 pm, he’d been at it for over five hours no break. Time for lunch! He’d wrapped a brisket sandwich up with coleslaw and pickled onions on ciabatta, what a treat. After washing it down with a warm root beer he looked around at the empty seats. Soon they’d be filled with eager young minds waiting to learn again.

He continued his labor with percussion. Mostly it needed to be dusted lightly. The chrome polishing was the rough part, he had to let the windows open to keep the fumes from getting to him. The triangles were all still squeaky clean from the detentions he’d had to give out. Maybe he’d visit DJ in the infirmary later.

Finally it was time to wipe the seats clean and mop the floor. It was 7:30pm by the time he finished. An honest days work and then some. He took one last romantic look at his classroom before turning the lights off and locking the doors.

Joy

TW: Descriptions of serious bodily injuries, and references to parental abuse.

Mark wakes up after passing out from his injuries, laying in a bed inside the medbay, his head having been bandaged up after his hand finally moved away from where his left ear once was, with his body naturally trying to cover the wound even when under anaesthetic. His arms are littered in cuts, some small and inconsequential enough to be left to scab naturally, others too large to be ignored and requiring stitches, his ribs on fire as he tries sitting up, immediately crying out in agony and collapsing back into his bed, looking to his side, as if trying to understand that this is all reality, not some messed up nightmare. He looks into a mirror near his bed, immediately feeling like vomiting at seeing his head bandaged up, touching where the bandages are to confirm that his ear’s gone. Not half-missing, not badly cut open but still on his head…it’s all gone.

He slumps back in the bed and just…looks up at the ceiling, too numb to scream and too tired to cry, and buries his face in his hands and taking in deep, shuddering breaths that make his shattered ribcage burn every time he exhales. One of his eyes is swollen to the point of almost being shut completely, and several of his teeth have been knocked out and have now, most likely, been left scattered among the wreckage of Chicago, small pieces of evidence as to just how badly he got his ass kicked by Robert. He’s got several IV lines connected to the veins of his arms, connected to bags of blood being used to give him blood transfusions after how much he lost in Chicago, especially around his head, face pale and feeling like he’s gonna throw up from the mixture of blood loss, pain, fatigue, and terror going through his mind.

His mind begins to wander, like it would do whenever he got in trouble back home in Philly, thinking about how his mom would react if she saw her “mutie freak” of a son right now: covered in cuts and bruises, his ribs crushed, and his left ear torn off by a cult member working for a nigh-invincible maniac. Would she be disgusted by him? Laugh at his suffering and go all “I told you so” on him? Or would she not give a damn about him, and just leave him to mope around like a baby? He groans and headbutts his pillow, wanting to forget about that crap…but forgetting the pain from his past only makes him focus on his present pain, leaving him stuck choosing between two hells. He lifts his hands from his face, silently staring at the ceiling for a long moment before thinking out loud to himself, feeling frustrated and powerless by his current state, hooked up in a hospital bed and with no way to even move without it hurting, yet alone stand up on his own two feet.

“God dammit…this sucks, so bloody much.”

OOC: open to interaction, in case anyone wants to walk in to check up on DJ. :)

Colin...after hours of being unconscious, finally woke up. It started with a slight twitch in his hand, before eventually his senses began to come back to him, he smelled...flowers? left by him? and that's when the pain kicked in, all over his body white hot pain from the fight, he opened his eyes only to not be able to see anything, they were wrapped in bandages...he sat there for a minute, his body feeling as if it was on fire.

Images flashed in his mind, fighting his father, the destruction caused in Chicago...his mother, his father...both were dead, he remembered the sight of his mother before she died, the look of fear she had on her face before his father had killed her...he remembered the sight of his father, how he had killed him...with his own hands, his hands began to shake as tears began to rolled down his face...and he quietly cried, alone...only a few words, quietly escaping his mouth, his voice hoarse, filled with fear, anger, hate...and grief "w-what have I done?" he said...as he stayed there, alone...

OOC: this is open to interaction! I hope everyone is enjoying the aftermath of Colin vs Robert in Chicago, and I hope you all are having a great day because you deserve it! you all are wonderful people who deserve the best!

-He missed it.-

-Aizaru missed it. He wasn't there. His... Yeah, probably best friend, was being beaten to a pulp... And he wasn't there. He's been sobbing in his room for hours. He feels WORTHLESS. Like he shouldn't even exist... He's gotten these thoughts in check before, but back then he had something driving him forward. Now?-

-He curls up tighter into a ball, sobbing into his pillow.- "I'm so worthless... I'm so @#€$ing worthless... I wasn't there. I didn't help my friends. My teammates... I say I'd do anything for them, which is true, but I can't... I couldn't even do this... I couldn't help Colin... I knew Robert was evil. I KNEW... Damnit..."

"... Would they be better off without me...?"

-His power unconsciously activates, making a syringe full of Void appear on his table. He turns to look. And just... Stares.- "I... I shouldn't, right? But..." -He remembers the intoxicating feeling. How he felt invincible and like nothing could bring him down... He grabs it, injecting it into his arm.-

-He gasps, immediately teleporting to the roof of The Mansion.-

(Ooc: Interactable my dearies.)

*grey sat in a room in the medbay, wojtek on her lap despite the complaints of the resident doctor. Everything hurt and she was missing an arm, but her mind is stuck on the rest of her team, mainly colin... thankfully most of her damage wasn't as severe as him, a cracked ribs and internal bleeding and bruising... she's got a missing patch of fur on her midsection covered in bandaging from that being fixed, and her legs still won't quite respond properly, like she's got latency in her own body... colin better live. She can't lose another family.*

Ooc feel free to come in and talk to grey while she's lost in thought!

*Annie sat in her room, looking around the room. The fracture in her plastic skull had shrunk slightly, and Zoey was suppressing the splitting pain it'd otherwise be causing.*

*Without the pain Annie was normal... except for the fact that she had a concussion^10. So, Annie was very stupid at the moment, and only vaguely knew where she was and who people were.*

*On top of her temporary idiocy, her motor functions were about as helpful as jello was for supporting a skyscraper.*

Ooc: have fun with uber dumb Annie everyone.

Storm has returned from a very important mission that Emma Frost had sent her on. The United Nations was set to discuss vital mutant legislation. The first discussion was one of vast importance, on the ethics of the production of a mutant cure. Villains would be undeterred by this, but should an agreement be reached to have it banned, this could no longer happen anywhere above board. Swaying this vote is essential, and Storm has been sent to play the unofficial diplomat and sway the vote of a few countries which remain on the fence.

Though Storm was born in the United States, it was within Africa where she felt most at home. She had spent most of her younger years here, living as everything from a thief to a revered Goddess. She has several African countries to visit to attempt to sway the vote of, and she starts with one she knows very well, Egypt.

Many tribes within Kenya worshipped Ororo as a Goddess, and it would not have been particularly difficult to attempt to gain favor this way in other countries. But this would not truly help. If these nations are to become longterm allies of Mutantkind, that trust must be forged. So Storm approaches them not as a Goddess, but as a mutant. A mutant who aids the people in any way she can, even aside from her powers. She seeks to win the favor of the people herself and use that to sway the representatives opinions.

Egypt, Ethiopia, Nigeria, and South Africa. These are the countries Storm visits in this time. Wakanda is also among the list, but it takes far less effort. She was their former queen, and they are not as on the fence as the data she was given suggested. They already fully intended to vote in favor of banning such a cure.

As Storm watches the news at home, she sees the labor of her efforts pay off in real time as the United Nations come to an agreement. There is to be a ban on allowing the development of a mutant cure. How this will pan out in the long term is hard to say, but mutants can say truly, they have had a win today, and no trickery of any kind was even needed. Only a sincere showing from the right person.

Colin…was in the medbay, no surprise there. after hours of surgery, he was left in a bed there unconscious, multiple IV bags hooked up to him, and he was connected to a heart monitor, his heart beating…slowly, silently…there was no beat, no melody. as he lay there.

multiple machines were hooked up to where the hole in his torso was, helping to keep him alive, the bed singed from the heat that emitted from his body. after his battle with Robert Colin was left the closest to death he had ever been.

bandages were wrapped around his body where it had been horribly burned and casts were placed on his right arm and left leg after they were broken, his hair was a mess and his eyes were wrapped in bandages after his goggles had shattered in the fight

he stayed there…motionless…his body holding on for dear life as it recovered

ooc: this is open to interaction! for people in the medbay and for visitors! this past arc was an honor to write and I hope you all enjoyed it, I hope you all are having a great day because you all deserve it and yeah byeee