The Avengers Academy didn't just accept anyone. With opposing forces against S.H.I.E.L.D., and thus the Avengers, a careful screening process would occur with each new recruit, to assure they weren't a secret spy sought on bringing down S.H.I.E.L.D. and were serious about the Academy. The Academy didn't often see many new faces, even with the surprising amount of supers and/or mutants out there, not all of them wanted to be the future faces of the Avengers. There were some, however, that wanted to try the whole superhero gig. Of course it was natural some would fail, or just decide they weren't cut out for it, but there was hope that this new year, with new faces, would bring the next great Avengers.

Director Nick Fury was always present to greet the new students. Sometimes, Steve Rogers would join him, however, even with his new status as founder of the Avengers Academy, he was still a busy man. Being that the Academy was constantly in the air, hidden in the clouds and always moving to new locations, it was common sense for the new recruits to be flown in. Currently, the Quinjet was out, darting through the sky to pick up the new recruits, to bring them here where they were always led to the student lounge; a good first impression and a place for nerves to unwind, if they needed unwinding. There weren't too many new faces this time around, it didn't mean there weren't other students aboard the impressive flying Academy, but not every year brought many new faces.

This year, it was different. And that was a feeling not lost on the man of the hour as he smoothed down his black leather trench coat. Retirement hadn’t suited him, managing a bunch of unruly teens with powers beyond their comprehension of even some cosmic beings out there didn’t quite suit him either, but it kept his schedule busy and his reflexes sharp even in what could be considered his ‘old age’. Still, it helped to keep an aspirin or two in his pocket every now and then when the vein in his forehead started to throb too violently, especially after reviewing the profiles of the ‘new’ students flying in on the helicarrier in less than an hour’s time. Many of which had nearly been rendered unreadable by what he could only assume was another of Stark’s fanboy’s. The latter of which hadn’t been much help in rectifying said files without having made a deal that the Academy would ‘consider’ building another dance floor on the premises. As if the music from the first one didn’t irritate him enough already. Just thinking about it had the man rubbing his temple over his eyepatch as he walked up to the array of monitors and the complex computer panel that stretched out across the entire expanse of the monitoring room. A generous portion of the office having been dedicated to the monitoring of what was meant to be the next generation of Avengers.

Only the gods knew exactly how they managed to survive every single year let alone keep New York City safe and about a good quarter of the student population were gods.

Without much care for Stark’s chatter streaming across the screen, Nick Fury reached over and turned a silver dial across the panel, switching the monitors over to an overview of the Quinjet’s blueprint. Another press of the button and the same blueprint came up in the transparent overhead screen in front of him. A few more quick swipes and a section enlarged, white lines becoming the actual live feed of the Quinjet’s hangar. It was no secret, some students needed more close monitoring than others, but at times, there was nothing wrong with monitoring all of them.

It was perhaps a shame that the first and only student currently onboard the hanger was the one that was aware of such active privacy invasion. Hearing the beep on his mobile, Will turned to the tucked away camera and gave an impish grin before he cut off the feed using his phone, instead of static, he redirected it around into a loop of Nick’s favourite video in the world; A pirate music video made for a kid’s show. He made sure to turn the voices up extra chipmunk just for the man, wishing that the security in here was laxed enough that he could’ve have put up a camera feed into Nick’s office just so he could see the look of anger that passed over the man’s face. He was hilarious when about half of his face consisted of eyepatch and the other of throbbing vein. It was a shame having all this technology under the control of a man like Nick, someone who couldn’t appreciate the finer points of such tech, like its ability to stream five hours of annoying kid videos.

Stark sure knew what he was doing around here, Will only wished that the man himself hadn’t made him promise not to mess with any of it, not like he could. It was way way beyond his scope, he couldn’t even imagine all the programs that was built into the code of just the Quinjet itself. The fact that something so complex could be simplified into something simple enough that a man like Nick Fury could control by the simplest of voice commands. Used for something so mundane as a bus ride for all the kids that weren’t blessed with the ability to fly or teleport.

Speaking of which, the map in the overhead screen beeped as the tinted windows along the side slowly started to lighten up in response to the Quinjet’s descent. He barely felt it when it started to dip in the sky, the transition so smooth and quick, he wondered when cloud had given away to the land below him. The humble ant like transfer point, no, that was a real ant, maybe a really big ant. There were still some really big insects down there, he heard that a few of them had commandeered the sewers and the city sewage workers were having a hard time getting pest control in to flood the tunnels with gas.

Getting off topic aside, he wondered who was going to be his newest play pal or pals onboard this massive hunk of metal and wiring.

Nicholas had seen the Quinjet before, considering he had a personal relationship with Captain America and bummed around Tony Stark’s Tower for some time, but he had never been on one (no matter how much he asked, even Cap could see he wanted to get in there and touch everything), and so his excitement level was pretty high when he saw the Quinjet smoothly sweeping down from the clouds. He felt like he couldn’t get on it fast enough and he was going to try to resist touching all the buttons… he had promised Cap he would but he had also crossed his fingers behind his back so he’d see. Of course, he knew everything had to be on lockdown and autopilot so curious little shits like himself couldn’t mess something up, but he still wanted to ogle at it all. He wondered if anyone else was already aboard the Quinjet, or if he would be first. He’d like that, he could do what he wanted without having to accompany small talk along with it.

Not that Nicholas wasn’t incapable of being social. He could be pretty social if the time called for it, actually. As the entrance revealed itself by dropping down the back door, as Nick saw it, he didn’t hesitate to march his grinning self into the Quinjet. He didn’t have any suitcases with him, just a backpack on his back. It wasn’t like he had very many possessions to begin with, and his most important possession was around his neck anyhow. His grin faltered a little when he realized he wasn’t the first person to be on board the Quinjet but he was the second one. Second was as good as first, right? No, no it wasn’t, but that didn’t bother him. This wasn’t a race. He quickly took in the other guy’s appearance. He looked young, with a boyish face and build, and so Nicholas automatically assumed he was at least below sixteen.

He didn’t take a seat at one of the many lining the sides of the Quinjet as the back began to close lift up, instead walking straight through to go and stare at the controls, rocking back on his heels as he did so. Once his eyes skimmed over all the controls, his fingers itching to touch but it would make no difference, he turned to the other being in the Quinjet. He had barely noticed the Quinjet lifting off the ground to disappear back into the clouds, the take off so smooth and quiet. Can people be sexually attracted to means of transportation because if so, I am totally that sexuality. he thought as he fell into one of the seats, sprawling out with an air that he could care less he was taking up two seats rather than one. The backpack wasn’t much of a bother pressed against him, since it wasn’t that full to begin with. “So,” he started, voice teasing as he smiled at the kid, as he saw him, across from him, “come here often?”

Great way to make a friend. Say a cheesy pick-up line. Really, Nick? he thought, almost rolling his eyes at himself, but he resisted, since he didn’t want the kid to think it was at him or something. He settled back for the ride to go and pick up the Academy’s next victim or victims, the ride smooth, quick, and quiet. Nick may or may not be a little in love with the Quinjet. Wait until he saw the helicarrier. He might just burst into tears.

Damon watched the Quinjet arrive with mixed feelings. He hated being in enclosed areas, not only did they usually prevent his wings from unfolding fully, but in this case they also contained people. He felt himself grumble at the thought of dealing with them.

Damon gripped the duffel that contained his few belongings. Belongings that consisted of mostly clothing and one picture of himself and his mother. He would have the duffle put on his shoulder, but the strap was designed to go over the shoulder and considering two very large hinderences for such things on his back, he went with holding the thing. He had never seen the Quinjet before, yet he was clearly not impressed. He had wanted to just be told where the academy was so he could just fly there, but apparently that wasn't going to be allowed.

Damon rolled his shoulders and watched the door lower in front of him. Contained within the metal flying tube were two others. Without a word to them, he folded his wings more and strode on. He walked right past them, dropped his duffel and took a seat...his current expression giving clear anti social vibes. He watched the door close and say more comfortable before regaining the anti social expression. He hoped he wouldn't have to work with these two...or talk to them. Really he just wanted to get there already so he could get off of the thing and away from people.

Copen was waiting in a designated area nearby his bed and breakfast, his blue suitcase waiting next to him. The day was bright and clear - fresh, he reflected, like the start of his new life today. The Avengers were famous all around the world, including Europe and even Denmark; people gasped at the stories in the newspaper and the one time that Tony Stark had flown overhead on a whim, social media had gone crazy. He ran a hand through his unruly blond hair, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. They'd told him that a small aircraft was coming to pick him up, but he couldn't see anything yet...

The handsome young man had to wait a few minutes more, and used them up by scrolling through Facebook. There were messages on his wall, wishing him luck - and he smiled to himself, albeit a little sadly. He'd miss his family. Hell, he already did. The vegetation around him started to wave, and he felt a strong gust of wind lifting up tendrils of his hair. He glanced up from his phone, mouth dropping open slightly at the sight. "Woah." That wasn't any ordinary helicopter, that was for sure.

Suddenly smiling, he picked up his suitcase with ease and walked confidently over to the aircraft. After a moment's hesitation, he walked up the runway to be greeted with the sight of three other young guys. At least two looked friendly enough. "Hej," he greeted them, his Danish accent coming through perhaps a little too strongly. Copen grinned his usual charming smile, putting his suitcase down and glancing around with no small amount of awe before returning his dark blue gaze to them. "This is... pretty cool. I'm Copen." It was an announcement to both of them, his loud voice carrying through the room.

He could see from the windows that the helicarrier was lifting itself off the ground again - impressive, seeing as he'd felt nothing. Deciding that it would be safest to sit, he plopped himself down on one seat and looked at them all expectantly.

Nodding her head lightly to the beat of the music blaring from her headphones, Angelique kept her eyes fixed firmly on the skyline as she tapped her fingers absent-mindedly to the tune. She was sat atop the roof of some random block of backstreet flats, in the run-down area of the Tenderloin. She had been offered a lift straight to "Superhero school" from Stark tower, but she'd rejected it. There was shit she had to take care of before running away to some high class school to get her powers in check. Unfortunately, said shit was still at her supposed "home" in uptown 'Cisco. There were old friends to say swift goodbyes to, and certain items she had to collect from her bedroom... none of that materialistic rubbish that her cazzo of a father had bought her, but the things that actually meant something to her. An old locket of her mother's; a woven bracelet made by her youngest cousin; a tattered postcard sent from Venice by her Aunt and Uncle; and a thirty-year-old bottle of grappa, home brewed by her crazy, alcoholic Nonno, her grandfather, among other items. The liquor inside was divine, and likely had an alcohol content higher than the country of America allowed, but the grapes bobbing about within the liquid? They tasted of pure death, and she was going to take great delight in sharing them with her future comrades.

Unless, of course, they were some kind of goody-two-shoes that would just report her for having alcohol. The silly American laws on youthful intoxication was yet another thing she hated about having moved over here, and Angel wasn't going to let someone try and use that on her. Not on a place like the heli-carrier, after all.

"Well, well. Speak of the devil." Angel murmured quietly as her eyes caught sight of the quin-jet, slowly yet smoothly descending on the rooftop behind her. It was quite the beauty, that was certain. She'd seen it a few times, on various new stations whenever the Avengers had come to save the day - she hadn't expected to be picked up in it, that's for sure.

Pulling the headphone jack from her iPod to halt the music, Angel threw her carry-all over her shoulder as she stood up, wincing ever so slightly at the motion. When she'd been hastily collecting her things, she'd tripped a silent alarm. Stupid, and reckless, but she'd been pretty emotional at the time - enough so to not think straight. Anyways, the sentry bots her father had had put in were awakened by it, and started attacking her. Angel wanted to think that he'd programmed that purposefully, but she knew that wasn't likely... he wasn't that heartless, after all. Either AIM had gotten their filthy paws on it, or he'd just programmed it wrong. Knowing what failures went on in Hammer Industries, it was likely the latter. The stupid things were always malfunctioning. Still, it probably didn't help that she'd broken in. Either way, one had pulled a lucky shot as she'd taken off with her bags of stuff, and grazed her arm. Thankfully, it was a lousy shot. Still stung like a bitch though.

Shaking off the thought, Angel pulled the headphones from her ears and gripped them in her free hand as she entered the quin-jet, glancing at each of the four individuals.

"Okay... so, we've got a new-age viking minus the beard... the token Broody "Don't-Make-Friends-With-Me-Because-My-Life-Is-Full-Of-Darkness" McGlower... a guy who looks about twelve-years old... and some normal brunette. Cool." She thought to herself as she took each of them in. There was some modicum of diversity here; irregardless of the lack of women.

"Ciao! I suppose I'm the first female?" She began with an easy grin to the four of them, setting her bag on one of the many empty seats. "I'm Angelique di Diavolo - please call me Angel. It's less of a mouthful for you, and less of an annoyance for me." Her accent still carried traces of her Italian heritage, some strong in some places, others not so obvious as the generic American accent took over. Sitting down in a seat by the blond, Angel wrapped her headphones up and placed them back in her satchel, which hung from her shoulder. "I look forward to working with you all - this should be interesting." Said with a somewhat foxy grin, she waited on the names of the others. They certainly seemed interesting, in their own respects.

Copen looked toward the new arrival, blond eyebrows arched as she walked inside. Ah, it was a girl! His good-natured expression did not fade as she introduced herself, friendliness radiating off her like waves. He gave her a wink as she came closer. When she took the seat next to him, he straightened slightly, noticing just how small she seemed next to his lanky frame. In fact, he looked to be the tallest person here. It sort of made sense - after all, normal soldiers were usually around 6 foot or slightly below, since muscle was difficult to pack on such a long-limbed body. He knew that all too well, although he'd gotten over it by now.

Her accent was interesting, if anything. His English was fluent, but his Danish accent was still heavy on his words - most Americans so far had guessed that he was German. Being a second language speaker, he had had a small amount of trouble distinguishing just what type of accent Angel had. But if the surname was any hint... "Hi, I'm Copen Thorsen," he said with a grin, turning in his seat and holding his hand out to her. "Another European, no? Italy? Looks like SHIELD is- er, - having a wide selection." He'd struggled there for a moment, but had thankfully recovered before embarrassing himself. Not that he often felt embarrassed, but it was difficult when people were critiquing his language at every word. "I'm from Denmark - Aarhus."

@MiddleEarthRoze

His teachers used to say that you should stand on attention whenever someone new you were meeting came into the room so off course, Will hiked his boots up onto the rest of the seat and turned to give the latest passenger of the Nick Fury big brother encampment a once over. The corners of his lips twitching as he built a mental assessment of the man before him;

Tall, blue eyed, where's the blond hair? He mused, flashing the man a smirk as he leaned back against the arm rest of the bench and crossed his legs, taking up the entire length of the seat, continuing to study the newcomer. Taking in the boy's expression of "Yes, I am standing in the Jet I'm going to marry." as he just stood there, staring at the controls like he had just seen a whale pass them by in the air or something, hands twitching like a kid in a candy store with no price tags on the candy. Good to see that there were some people who could appreciate sexy machinery.

"You done molesting the control panel with your eyes?" He eventually quipped because as fun as it was to see the obvious city boy, god it was like that was the new 'rural', gawk at the switches and dials, he couldn't stand the silence all that long or being ignored. Usually the latter over the former, though when he was being ignored there was usually a silence that accompanied it. Long story short, he didn't like the silence, unless he was programming a sound cancelling machine, but that was besides the point. He should build a sound cancelling machine though, just for the heck of it. His thoughts running like wild fire, he nearly missed when the guy finally turned around and looked down-Damn he should build some height modifiers into his shoes or heels, he was sure he could pull off pumps-at him and actually crooned out that horrible pick up line. He nearly burst out laughing,

"Oh more than you know," He quipped back at him, reaching out to slide his hand against the smooth wall adjacent to him. One entire length of curved metal, friction unjilted between his fingertips and the wall as he ran his hand down the side of it, curving his palm to fit it's shape before he let his hand drop back to support his head, flashing the boy a sideways grin as his phone beeped, telling him the Quinjet was descending again even though he couldn't feel any change in altitude on his part, "I'm on the perv patrol, here to arrest anyone looking to damage this baby."

He finished just as the doors began to lower again, a quiet, almost completely silent whirr of the machinery present through the walls. He kept one hand pressed against the cool metal. It was silly, but sometimes, he swore he could feel the electrical impulses running through the walls, almost like a heartbeat, in all sorts of machinery, whether it was the tired out ticker of dated monitors or the smooth rhythmic beat of the more modern day athletes. They beat softly against the flesh of his palm as the newest arrival came in through those doors.

Clang! The metal bench reverberated, the sound echoing off the walls once before the sound was completely absorbed. He had sat up too fast and banged the heavy sole of his foot against the foot of the bench, but he barely felt any sign that he may or may not have completely killed all the blood vessels at the heel of his feet as he watched their newest arrival breeze past his seat. His eyes lit up as he observed the man from behind. No kidding, it was a nice behind, but that wasn't what he was staring at now.

Will had seen his fair share of mutants, non-mutants who looked like mutants and robotic replicas of mutants, but ohoho, he had never gotten a good look at those winged mutants; a seemingly common mutation. And he had been looking at designing a pair of wings and Falcon's gear was under too heavy of a lock down for him to borrow and 'study'. This, was the universe answering his whims and once again proving that, the universe liked him.

By the time the winged dude had sat down, Will was already out of his seat and storming towards him, "Oh god, whatever your name is Lucifer, you have got to let me design something for you, anything, whatever you want, name it, just let me look at these." He rambled off hastily as an introduction as he came up to him and then made an immediate detour to what he really wanted to get his hands on. Kneeling on the seat, he reached out and ran his hands over the curve of the man's wings before he grasped the edge of it more solidly and tried to spread it out a little bit more,

"How far do these go? Oh you know what would be cool? Wing blades! I could make you some light weight ones, what do you think about blue? How high can you get up on these? Do you know your top speed? Oh oh, I could add jets to the end of the blades and you could go even faster!" He started to ramble off, completely oblivious to the vibes the man was giving off and only vaguely aware of whoever else came on board, cataloguing his brief observation of them for later as he continued to fire off question after question at the winged dude, "You think I could get your measurements on these? You think I could run some tests? I'll buy you lunch if you let me, heck I'll buy you lunch for a week!"

You could've called it persistence, but then Will would likely have been ashamed that you didn't go for the pun and call it being strong willed.

@tenebrae16
Damon folded his wings closer to him, feeling a bit claustrophobic at the moment, he closed his eyes. This moment of not paying attention lead to the most violation he had ever felt. Damon froze as soon as he felt a hand on his wing. The shock on his face showed just how much he did not expect to be touched. Then, the glare so intense that if it could would disintegrate will on the spot. A glare...that did not seem to be working. In fact, Will seemed to be intent on making modifications to damon that he did not notice the internal struggle of whether killing someone for touching him was morally wrong. Damon's hands balled into fists as he felt frustration building up.

He seemed to be counting to ten in his mind, but as will continued speaking and holding his wing the ability for the method to work decreased. Suddenly, he spoke. "Remove hand" His thick russian accent came out as he was entirely focused on will and not the new comers. Will kept going causing for Damon to metaphorically have steam coming out of his ears. His other wing shot out, the talon stopping inches away from Will's throat. "Remove Hand Now" Somehow his accent seemed to get thicker with anger. His glare along with the jaw clench showed he was at the end of his very short rope. At least he had restraint enough not to punch him...that would be worse.

At this moment, he noticed the new comers out of the corner of his eye. He inhaled and shook his wing out of Will's hand and moved further away from him. "Damon" was his only way of greeting. His wings then swung in front of him and acted as a curtain...a curtain of solitude.

Nick was the type of person who drew judgments on people pretty shortly after meeting them. It was hard not too, with how his brain worked; with a photographic memory, he remembered too much of first impressions, though sometimes they got lost and tangled up with the big ball of information in the back of his mind, something that was hard to distangle to get a piece of information he actually wanted, and sometimes spat out a pointless piece of information that was totally irrelevant to what was going on around him. That was why people had a tendency to think he had ADHD, or a very uncaring attitude depending on what was being said to him and what was flowing through his mind at that time. Because, he didn't ever purposefully ignore anyone, but sometimes it was just hard to concentrate on conversations for him. He totally cared, he sort of wore his heart on his sleeve, but it was just hard to show that sometimes.

This kid that was on the Quinjet first, he already liked him. The little quip he uttered as Nick was practically drooling over the control panel made him give a surprised chuckle, because he hadn't expected wit to be aboard this beautiful piece of flying machinery when he entered it. He watched him slide his hand against the wall of the Quinjet, glad to see maybe someone was as in-love with the Quinjet as he himself was, and smirked in reply to the sideways grin flashed at him. Cute kid. He ignored the doors lowering, to say with his smirk not wavering, "Oh, I certainly won't damage this beauty."

His attention was ripped from the kid, though, when the doors finished lowering and someone else entered. He was used to his attention bouncing all over the place, anyway, so this wasn't anything new to him. He didn't mean too but he gaped at the newcomer. A mutant! He had hoped he wouldn't be the only mutant (for all he knew, the kid across from him was a mutant too), but seeing one made a thrill go down his spine. He, personally, had his arms, thus his "tattoos," covered up by a light, red jacket. But, this guy, hotdamn, he couldn't hide those big, beautiful wings even if he wanted too. And big and beautiful Nick found them, totally. Before he could make a comment, because he was totally going to make a comment, a loud clang sounded in the Quinjet, making Nick jerk to attention and look for its source.

Seemed like the kid beat him to it. Okay, yeah, Nick might have laughed when the kid called him "Lucifer," it was funny, okay? Oh, so the kid liked to design things? That much was obvious. Nick was beginning to get a Stark air from the kid as he kept rambling. It was something so Tony Stark, it was kind of eerie to see. Speaking of Stark, he wondered if the man would make an appearance at the Academy. He wanted to see him again, pester him like he did when Cap brought him to the Tower. He had enjoyed Stark's hyperactive personality when it came to his "toys" and he had fed off that energy, for sure. But Cap, ah, Cap. That was a man after Nick's heart. Too bad Nick was too young and not like Cap would be interested in him anyway. Maybe if I had shaggy hair and a smokey eye gone wrong, he would be, he mused a bit bitterly to himself. He might be up there with Phil Coulson when it came to crushing on Captain America. Actually, he probably was.

He was pulled from his mind - ah, damn, he totally did get lost in his head, didn't he? Not unusual, he was used to it - when someone else was suddenly there. He glanced over at the kid and wing boy, before eyeing the looker that just stepped on board. Well, hello. he thought with a smile and his smile only grew at the accent that came from the young man's mouth. Mind briefly forgetting about the amazing wings sat across from him, he straightened himself up in his seat. "Salut!" he greeted in French, his accent not nearly as thick as this guy's - Copen's, his brain provided - Danish accent, but still noticeable. "Nick. Nice to see another dashing fellow aboard this beautiful hunk of metal, Copen." he joked, and boy, beautiful hunk of metal indeed. He wanted to move in here. Like, seriously. He would totally sleep on this hard as Hell floor. Wait, wait, he hadn't even seen the Helicarrier yet. He might die. He might literally die from the sheer beauty and power of that beast in the sky. He had seen pictures but never the actual thing. He might swoon just thinking about it.

Nick had been, again (this was common practice for the guy), in his thoughts when another newcomer came. And a very pretty newcomer. Well, hello to you, too. Nick thought, licking his lips as he took in sight of the first female on the Quinjet. He was loving the diversity showing on this Quinjet. It was exciting for Nick, who had only been to his home place in Canada and NYC, and hadn't met very many people in between. Oh-ho, Copen was beating him to the punch of talking to the pretty female. Not that it bothered him. Seeing two equally pretty people talking was just fine by him. Like a little shit, he jumped in on the conversation, still. "Nick! Angel, a suiting name-" he paused and smirked a little as he finished in French, "pour une femme angelique." (for an angelic woman). he was so damn cheesy, someone save him from his own stupidity. "French, Canada. What up?" he almost cringed at his own change in tone. Was he smooth or was he not? Not, not for sure.

He was totally missing some drama and what dragged his attention back to it was when he heard a very unhappy, very thick Russian accent going through the Quinjet. He turned to see what was going on and oh, some serious drama. He hopped up to his feet, backpack bouncing against his back, and clapped his hands lightly. "Whoa, now, pretty sure Director Fury wouldn't be happy if one of the students was killed and got blood all over the upholstery. Shit is Hell to get out." he said, standing in the middle of the Quinjet and motioning at the seats. "Kid is a curious little thing, isn't he, Damon?" Nick asked, flashing the kid, as he kept deeming him in his head, a smirk before looking at Damon again. He moved a bit closer, blue eyes going to his wings. They were more in view since Damon was being an anti-social little shit and practically hiding in them. That totally didn't deter Nick though, whose mind was racing. "Seriously, though, if we don't touch, can we ask questions? 'Cause, those beauts, hou la la! And, I mean, if we ask to touch, can we? Consent is very important, after all! Take notes, kid," he joked, and decided it was smart to sit on the other side of Damon. Though, he was respectful enough to not sit close enough to brush against his wing, but he did twist his body towards him, and lean forward, eyes flickering over the wing nearest him. "So, like, these puppies are pretty damn cool. Serieusement, I'd take the kid up on his offer to make some cool as shit wing blades. Wing blades!" even if he had been lost in his head, his subconscious had picked up on the conversation and was providing him with the information at random. With a toothy grin, he leaned around to point at the kid briefly and say, "I like you," before leaning back. With his excitement, his French accent was thicker, he had also barely noticed he had said a couple French words since he did that all the time, as he kept rambling. "And free food, dude! Hey, if I help convince him, will you buy me lunch for a week, too?"

Holding in a chuckle from what was going on in the corner - "Who gave that kid an energy drink?" - Angel took Copen's hand with a grin and shook it; pleased to see that he too, was European. Now, American's made plenty of jokes about how small Europe was - if you drive for a couple of hours in America, you're still in the same state. In Europe, well, you'll likely end up in another country, depending on where you were. Regardless of that, there was some sense of relief in finding another European there - perhaps she'd just heard too many Americans come up to her and be like "Oh my gawsh, your accent is so cute, where are you from?"

Also, by the sounds of Damon, he too wasn't native to the States. Ah, Russians. That explained half of the surly behaviour, anyway.

"You guessed right - I'm from Rome. I visited Denmark once, although it was the capital. A beautiful city, Copenhagen." She conversed, releasing his grip and leaning back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as the rambling continued in the corner. "Sadly, I never picked up much of the language other than some pleasantries and swear words." She added with a chuckle, only for her gaze to be drawn to the newcomer to their conversation. The average looking brunette - or, at least, she'd just assumed he was average. With the stuff spouting from his mouth, he sounded way more fun than his normal appearance gave away.

"Now, I'm no expert in the language of love, but I expect what you said was something very cheesy." She could work out the basics of what he'd said; French, after all, was rather similar to Italian in some respects. Either way, she hardly minded. Angel was a sucker for bad jokes, and even worse pick-up lines. Mind you, it didn't take much to get a laugh out of her - all someone had to do was say '69' and she'd start laughing.

The situation unfolding - along with a glorious pair of black wings - the opposite end of the jet, however, was childish in a whole other way. "Hiding behind your wings? Doesn't matter how pretty they look, still a dumb thing to do."

"How about we stop cooing over some feathers and let the boy breathe a bit, yeah?" She suggested with an easy grin, standing up and sauntering on over to the group. "Put those wings away Ruskie. Isolation is a bad colour on you, believe it or not." She added with a light tap on the feathers, before directing her gaze towards the 'kid', as Nick had so correctly branded him. He would be a couple of inches taller than her, but with her heeled boots on, she finally had the advantage. Of... two inches, but still. A girl's gotta take victories big and small, right?

"What's your name, bambino? And, more importantly, what's your skill?" Angel asked, turning slightly so the kid, Nick and Copen were all in her sight - the question was directed to everyone, after all. "Damon here has his wings - I suppose everyone else's talent is a little more invisible?" Although a way to deescalate the situation somewhat, she was honestly curious. What could these guys do, to catch the attention of the walking, Nazi-Punching, OAP popsicle himself?

Rain

Rain sat on the football field of her school, arms wrapped around her knees and fingers interlaced. She was staring very hard at a ladybug that had landed on her left thigh, and was steadily creeping up the pale skin. Ladybugs were meant to be lucky, right? That was what her mother had always said, whenever they used to alight on the plants in their small garden. Her blue eyes tracked the movement closely for a few more minutes, before she gently scooped the small, bright insect onto her pointer finger. She held it up to the sky, blowing gently on its back. Unfolding its wings, it buzzed off into the sky.

As the brunette watched it disappear, the sound of whirring motors disturbed her quiet silence at the edge of the field. Turning around, her eyes widened at the sight of the huge machine descending. That was for her? When they’d said, ‘aerial transport,’ she’d expected maybe a small helicopter . This was… impressive. Rising to her feet, she took her suitcase by the handle and struggled to carry it on the ramp leading up. It was pretty heavy for the small girl, and by the time she’d lugged it to the deck, she was panting.

Oh.

There were a lot of people here.

Her cheeks were already a little flushed from exertion, but if possible, they went an even more embarrassing shade of pink. Rain placed her suitcase down, relieved, and self-consciously linked her hands in front of her body. There were a good few boys here already. One seemed pretty young, with round brown eyes that seemed to sparkle at the impressive machinery surrounding them – it was indeed amazing, even to someone not so technically-inclined such as herself. There was another, with a surly look to his face and beautiful black wings. Her mouth dropped open for just a moment before she realized just what she was doing, and closed it. Wow. The boy himself looked terribly unhappy though, and she wondered just why.

There was yet another, on the other side of the boy who was now hiding in his wings, with a handsome jaw and terrific blue eyes that seemed to dart from one thing to the next with distracted intensity. Across from them was another attractive boy, even taller than the other guys, with slightly unruly blond hair and curious navy eyes that checked her out for a moment before returning to the rather pretty girl that was sat next to him.

The closest seat was one that was two down from the boy with the wings, and she decided that she’d feel rather much less conspicuous if she was seated – even if there were a couple of people now crowding around him. Quickly sitting down, she hoped that they were still too busy staring at the guy’s wings to pay too much attention to her. However, she wasn’t an unfriendly type of person – glancing around the room, she said a quiet, “Hi,” with a small smile, crossing her legs and holding the top knee in a rather ladylike – and slightly insecure – position.

"How many joints is this? How thick is the phalanx? Is it all bone, what's the skin underneath like? Is it Sinewy? Oh how many layers is this?" The boy continued to ramble, his fingers digging past the feather quills gently in an attempt to part them aside so he could see more of the boy's wings. So invested and absorbed as he was studying the jointed limb that he didn't hear the man the first time, barely heard him the second time before the wing was shaken out of his grasp and a talon was pressed against his throat, making him instinctively lean backwards because sharp objects and his throat did not mix well. His gaze finally darting over to the man who's wings he was so deeply studying, his eyes gone uncharacteristically wide before he exclaimed, "Oh. My. God."

"You're Russian?! Does that mean these are insulated? Are they like owl's? Are there even owls in Russia? How resistant are they to the weather? Oh and these talons, what do you think about mounting lasers to it? Any colour you want! Think of all the possibilities!" He exclaimed, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist as he leaned in to study the fixtures at the top joints of his wings before he they were pulled away and naturally Will began to follow like he was transfixed, walking forward on his knees along the bench before all the constant chatter going on behind him finally caught his attention and the boy turned his head over to look at them instead of simply turning around. Twisting his whole body at an awkward angle just to look at them, "Hey hey, I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet!" He called out to the crowd that had started to gather there, when the hell had they started to gather there? How many stops had they made so far? He'd have to check the logs. And then the wings, the wing blades and maybe a laser mounted gun.

Glad to see that 'someone' else was seeking the genius of these things, unless, "You better not be patronizing me, cause those wing blades would be hella cool." He piped up, sticking out his tongue for emphasis at their first passenger when being told off about consent. Who needed consent when you could promise people all sorts of cool gadgets just cause you could! Waving his hand dismissively at him as if he could conjour him away, "Hey hey, I called them first! You can look at them after I'm done with these babies! Getcha your own free food!" He said, holding his arms out over the man as if he could ward Nick off. Blinking when the latter leaned in closer and spoke to him in a low whisper. His nose wrinkling up when the man finally pulled away, making a face,

"What's with the whole world council thing going on and the whole language convention?" He asked, raising a brow at the rest of the others who were also chattering in their own tongues. Finally getting down from the bench, he sat crossed legged, gripping the edge of his seat as he scanned everyone in the room, "And I wasn't cooing!" He protested at the only actual babe in the room. When in rome, he couldn't think of a pun and that irritated him. Licking his lips as she started to talk to him, his nose wrinkling up again at the nickname assigned to him, at least she was straight to the point about it all, he could appreciate that. His mouth twitching back up into a grin as he rocked on his seat, "You can call me Will, you can also call me your friendly resident super sexy genius! Oh and I can shoot out zappy zappy red stuff from my fingers, but that isn't as cool."

"So what's your stories, Hecate, Captain Demark, Ringo and Wingo?"

Copen

Copen was more than just mildly pleased by the affirmation of his beauty by the French guy - Nick was his name. Although, he had a funny accent compared to the French people he'd met on a holiday to France. Maybe he'd lived in the far North, he pondered, not the sunny South where he'd frolicked along the beach two years ago. "I didn't know that Frenchmen were attracted to helicopters," he teased with a grin, noticing how he just about molested the technology with his eyes. It was kind of funny, truth be told.

He shook Angel's hand with a firm grip, looking her in the eyes as she explained. Aha, so his suspicions had been correct! She didn't look the stereotype of her country, with those bright blue eyes, but few people did. It was true that there were many blonds in Denmark, but not everyone was - he was one of few who completely fitted the look expected of him. Oh, well. At least he was a good ambassador for his country. "I've never been to Rome, but if all the ladies are so lovely, I might have to make a trip." He winked at her, before tearing his gaze away to look at the French - no, Canadian, as he'd revealed - boy who'd interrupted their conversation. It seemed that there might be some competition for the only girl on the aircraft so far - oh, wait. Another had just come in, lugging a bag that seemed to weigh just as much as her. She seemed rather out of breath as she took a timid seat across from him.

Damon was now shielded by his wings. Impressive they might be, but the guy himself was not making himself any friends that way. The two other boys still seemed intent on just about terrorizing him, despite the fact that he'd clearly shown his discomfort. Poor guy, Copen reflected, despite the fact that he was just as annoying at the best of times. Neither of them would shut up, though, and unfortunately it seemed that he'd lost the attention of Angel. That was a shame, but it seemed the conversation was getting even more interesting. So they had a clever guy, who could shoot something out of his hands. Not super cool, but maybe it was more impressive in action.

"Captain Denmark?" Copen echoed, then laughed - it was loud, as were his words. "I won't say no to that. Although, I'm not a super soldiers." He scratched the back of his neck, glancing to the side. For a moment, he thought about how to present his powers. He didn't want to come off as a delinquent, but... "I can control water, and ice too. I got into trouble, and the government shipped me off here," he admitted. They were going to be his classmates for a long time, and one of the guys would even be his room-mate - may as well be honest about his story, even if it had an element of sadness. After a moment, he grinned again - "Guess they couldn't keep someone quite as dangerous as me in little old Aarhus."

Damon inhaled after his wings were tapped. The feathers puffed out as he worked on calming himself. "I do not like small plane" he muttered, his voice muffled by his wings. A few more moments passed, allowing him to hear the new arrival and to hear the others speaking about something other then his wings. Another inhale later and his wings slowly opened and folded back against his back. Being folded made him sit on the edge of the seat, claustrophobia had him with his head down for a few moments.

"Do not touch wings.....removed too much" he offered the explanation mostly for the two sitting closest to him...the two that seemed to want to modify him. He looked at will. "no modifications, I am not lab experiment" his accent was still thick, but he spoke more quietly. He then looked to the new comer and noded. As much as he hated to admit, Angel was right. He had to work on his people skills. He shook his head and muttered "Dyvols both" (little devils) he closed his eyes and re opened them.

He would not spill out anymore about his past, he felt it was unnecessary at the moment and would not help him currently. His leg began twitching, he was really not doing well in the small crowded environment. He was okay when it was just himself and two others, but now it felt too small. His eyes closed again and the expression on his face was one of pure uncomfort. He exhaled and decided to tell of his other abilities since the others were doing that....and it was something he could do. "I also heal...and am strong" his thoughts wandered for a moment to his mother You are so much more then your wings...you are one of a kind. Never change

He ran a hand through his short hair and worked on breathing. He refused to be defeated by an inaminiate object that was transporting him.

Angel watched Damon, her own brow furrowed as she noticed his discomfort, both in his words and his expression. Was he feeling claustrophobic? Or was it just because of those two idiots fawning over his wings? She could empathise, either way; if one had wings like that and could fly in the open air, she'd feel enclosed in a metal box with jets attached too. Hell, she could fly, but there was a difference in having boots and having actual wings sprouting from your back.

Deciding that bringing it up would do nothing more than cause more tension between Damon and the group, Angel instead turned her eyes back to Will, raising one eyebrow at his description.

"Uhuh... last sexy genius I met was the man himself back at Stark tower. You don't even come close, kiddo." She thought to herself with a coy grin. Now, she wasn't knocking him - Will was undoubtedly appealing to the eye, like everyone else in the jet. But he looked like 12. She would have been all over him when she was a pre-teen.

"Well... I have to say, you're smarter than you look, what with my little nickname." She said, stepping away from him to the middle of the aircraft - glancing over at their newest arrival with a thrill in her heart ("Another woman! Fantastico!") - before looking back at the boys. "As you no doubt know, Hecate was the Greek Goddess of magic - Myself, I know a few tricks in that arena. And if my senses are correct, you're no stranger to the magicks yourself, Boy Wonder." She paused then, smile faltering ever so slightly. Should she bring up the other thing? Her... more mysterious powers? Hells... they'd probably find out anyways. What could she lose?

"I also have a little something extra. Energy manipulation is the fancy term that Tony Stark coined for it, but as far as I'm concerned, I can make pretty blue lights come out of my hands, and it can blow shit up." Not that they were going to get a demonstration anytime soon, but she directed an almost competitive grin towards Will. "Be nice to see how it copes against your "zappy-zappy red stuff"."

On that note, she turned once more to their newest companion with a friendly grin - the girl looked slightly cowed in everyone else's presence.

"A great pleasure it is to see another woman onboard! I was worried that it would just be me and the Testosterone boy-band." Angel chuckled, sitting in the seat next to the newcomer. "I'm Angel - nice to meet you."

The room certainly was a whirlwind of noise and movement, Rain reflected, as the discussions went on in front of her. They were talking about powers, namely. She'd missed the first part of the conversation, but the only other girl was describing what she could do. Energy manipulation and magical spells? Suddenly, her own super speed seemed rather... inadequate. It was cool, to be sure, but maybe not quite as impressive or useful in combat. Not that she'd really done anything involving her powers, before. Her eyes darted down to look at the small hands gripping her knee self-consciously. It wasn't like she was strong, as most of the people on this aircraft looked to be.

A sudden, upbeat voice of a girl sounded from close, and Rain jumped as she looked up. A small, shy smile spread across her lips and a soft laugh escaped her at - 'testosterone boy-band' - now that was funny. With the tall figures and good-looks, they certainly could be one. Her name was Angel... How pretty, as was she. In fact, everyone here was good looking in some way or another. Coupled with the confidence that emanated, it kind of made her want to shrink into her seat. But this was the time for first impressions - she couldn't run away from her new team-mates.

"I'm Rain du Toit - it's lovely to meet you as well," she replied, letting go of her knee and straightening. It was then that another - yep, good looking boy - entered the cabin. It was only a moment before he was accosted by one of the young guys who'd been cooing over wing-guy's wings. Nick had powers to do with his tattoos, and Garret didn't have any. Huh? That was unusual. Maybe she wasn't so bad off with being fast. The two boys proceeded to just about cuddle and chatter in French, and Rain wondered for a moment if they were boyfriends...? But she hadn't seen any kissing, so...

When Garret asked about anyone else not having powers, she hesitated for a moment and glanced at Angel for just a second - maybe because she was the only one who'd talked to her so far. Then, shifting in her seat, she looked back at the room. Her blue eyes dipped down to the floor for a second - it was shiny - and she clasped her hands together in her lap. "I have powers - I can run really fast," she said, finally looking across at everyone in the room. Her heart was beating fast, watching for their reactions. "...Like The Flash, but not as quick."

He had never really been short of meeting supers before, his parents were more than willing to introduce him to their fellow heroes and heroines to him, even if they much preferred to live in what little retirement they were still pursuing, but meeting already established heroes was different from meeting those whom he was eventually going to work with and call his team mates. For some reason, he felt a little bit more giddy and excitable sitting in the Quinjet with adolescent teens blessed with powers they had yet to learn to control or use correctly than with full fledged heroes like giant man or the fantastic four, given he had been just as excited then. None of them could hold a torch to Mr Stark though, that was one part of his mind that he kept carefully encapsulated by a velvet red rope as he looked around the little gang they had going on. Only partially listening to what they were saying, well partial was like fully listening for him, it was the most attention he'd ever give, the rest given to fuel the part of his brain that continued to run like a horse on a race track, spewing out thoughts and throwing out lines of incessant rambling; some of which went through a filter before it escaped his mouth, other's mostly just going straight to the talking parts of his brain. Luckily, he was aware enough to remain silent whilst everyone started to introduce themselves.

And whilst he catalogued away their powers into his chaotic system of order, his eyes couldn't help but light up a little just listening to them. Oh sure, hacking into their files gave him enough information about each of them for the most part, hearing them talk about themselves out loud just helped him match their faces to their files, but S.H.I.E.L.D was only so good at studying powers. He was going to make it his own personal goal to study exactly what these supers could do, in the name of scientific discovery off course and to add onto to his own creation. He would need more information on exactly what Captain Denmark over there could do, but already his brain was humming with all the possibilities, especially when Wingo beside him finally spoke a full sentence. His gaze immediately darting over to him as he licked his lips, wondering if he could create something to prevent that sort of consequence in the future. Maybe something that shocked whoever applied too much pressure to the base of his wings or some vibranium plating in his suit there...Vibranium wasn't exactly easy to come by, but he could dream and scheme and find some way to weasel out something from Fury. So lost in his own mind for that single moment, he nearly didn't catch when 'Hecate' started to speak to him,

Eyes darting over to her, his grin widened as he rocked on his seat, a testament to the nervous energy he felt coursing through him. Young enough where the racing of his mind seemed to match the energy of his physical body or maybe it was a sugar high, he had had a lot of sugar in the past hour, trying his hand at a bit of biology, involved a lot of saturated sweets, was maybe just an excuse for him to gulp down a lot of sugar in his own room for one last time before he went off. He was sure Mom knew something was up, but as long as he didn't border on diabetic, he figured she didn't mind so much. It wasn't like him on a sugar high was any different than him usually. Anyway, what was he doing in the span of the 0.45 nanoseconds that he had spaced out? Oh right, right, socializing.

"Well, everyone knows red always beats out blue." He retorted, flashing her a grin before he followed her gaze over to their latest arrival. When had they had their latest arrival? This jet was really smooth or the girl had some invisible quality to her powers, whatever the case, he leaned over in his seat just to catch a glimpse of their latest 'classmate' from over the large silhouette of Wingo and Ringo. Well, she looked rather petite as well, maybe she was just another spy on board, he'd have to go look up her file maybe, when he got around to it, but he did faintly recall something about a speedster in school. They were always really fun, at least the ones he knew off so far and he definitely knew speedsters. Heck, he could've been a speedster, well just without the speed. Anyhow, he couldn't resist piping up about that one,

"You mean the Flash like those comics? I think the writers were on a comic binge when they were writing him! I mean, instantaneous travel speed is one thing, but what do you think they were thinking with the whole spandex costume thing? Please tell me your superhero suit isn't spandex. I mean, I'm sure you'd look great in it, but you know how fast that stuff wears out, not that I know, but-"

He was interrupted as they started to make another touchdown, having not noticed until the door started to open again and more proof of perfection existing in this world walked in and caught his eye,

"Hey I've seen you around!" He exclaimed out loud at their latest arrival, eyes darting over to the guy in some brightened recognition, though he didn't seem to be the only one who knew him as Ringo, now only a Work in Progress name whilst he figured out something better, he was sure Frenchie wasn't a good one and Frog was a very bad racial slur instead of a quirky nickname to aid his failing memory about remembering people's real names, off topic, got up and practically rushed down the boy. Geez, did all muscle bound blue eyed brunettes just know each other? Were they all part of the same fitness club or something? Maybe there really was a boy band on board of this thing and if so, did they need a lead guitarist? Or modified guitars? He was never big into the musical scene or anything, but synthesizing a musical instrument or a rock robot, well that was an idea. Or maybe it was the sugar. No, definitely an idea....no the sugar, well, he'd do a blood test later on, but he was definitely sure it was an idea. A good one.

He came back to to a spew of French between Mr muscles and Ringo, WIP, over there. His gaze fixed onto the former. He was so utterly sure that he had seen him before and he didn't just remember any muscle bound adonis that crossed his path. The both of them seemed like close friends, must be what having a brother must be like and for all he knew, they could actually be twins with the way they looked; he was sure that hotness was a genetic trait that scientists had yet to completely isolate. But anyhow, he was so so sure that he had seen Mr muscles somewhere before, trying to sort through his memory of the files he had hacked to try and place him. There hadn't been that many new files, a testament to how little the school seemed to increase it's student body every year. It was more than just the files though as he narrowed his gaze up at the man, only vaguely listening to whatever banter was going on between them and he meant vaguely, because what was with all the non English? He didn't have anything against it, just why..They'd all need built in translators for every known language in the book if this kept up, actually that was an idea, but again again off topic, so very much off topic when he finally placed the face of the man before him to the correct memory,

"Your pictures on Uncle Stark's photos file!" He exclaimed aloud, pointing a finger at the man as if revealing some great accusation. Off course, he knew he had seen him somewhere before and that was on Stark's desktop computer, in the file he kept as his photo album. The man didn't see the point of physical photography and Will very much agreed because at this point, digital was safer than what could potentially be destroyed in a fire and despite this whole train of thought, he still couldn't place exactly who the guy was because Stark hadn't explained anything about the album and Will hadn't want to confess he had been snooping through his stuff when he wasn't suppose to, granted he hadn't gotten through any of the tougher firewalls anyway, but the point was he had seen Garret before, even if only in digital pixels. Question now was why did Stark have a picture of him? Granted, Stark had alot of pictures of various heroes and so on, but as far as he knew, this guy was pretty off the radar, he had certainly never heard of him before so well, the whole situation was just confusing and he really really disliked being confused.

Even more confusing now that he just admitted he didn't have any powers, unless.... "You have to be a spy then!" A second pointed finger, this time followed by his whole face lighting up, "Whatever spy gadgets you have throw them away! They're probably outdated anyway or hideous looking, you know I think Shield has something on about giving their spies cruddy looking gadgets? Like all spies in general, all those spy movies, I mean, the ones that are actually practical just look awful and clunky or the CGI looks like throw up." He started off into another ramble, gesturing for greater effect before a soft beep echoed through out the little gathering they had made and an automated voice filled the chamber,

"Remaining stops before final destination, 1 @Carlsberg."

"Whoo, we're finally getting things on the road! Whoever is bunking with me, I call top bunk!"

@Chicogal@MiddleEarthRoze

Jen was sat on a small grassy hill, waiting for the Quinjet to arrive. She had traveled out of the main city to find somewhere quieter to be picked up. She didn't want to have plane scaring people in the streets of London after all. She was looking forward to returning to the Academy, flexing her hand as she realised how long it had been since she used her powers, having been told to restrict their use when she was away from the exclusive training facility. She looked up with a small smile as she saw the aircraft descending towards her. She stood up and picked up her holdall, filled with some clothes and a few essentials, including hair dye. She waited for it to land and the ramp to descend before walking up it, looking around at the new members of the Academy. She honestly felt a little out of place here, most, if not all, of the others being first years. Still, it was always nice to try. She walked over to the two other girls, trying not to ogle the good looking guys or girls that were here.
"Hi. My name is Jennifer Winters, but you can call me Jen," She said with a smile on her face.

Scott wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be here at this beautiful place, with so much grass, one couldn't see the end of it; with a breeze so soft and gentle, it didn't even budge the cowboy hat on his head; with the smells of the outdoors, of warm air, of animals; with the sounds of livestock coming from every direction. If he was caught, he'd be in trouble. He was trespassing on King Ranch. He didn't care if he got caught; he was about to leave, go and start a new life, try and become something. He had to ground himself before he left, or else he'd embarrass himself by possibly shifting in front of his soon-to-be fellow students. He was out in the pasture, running his hand down at the side of a horse's neck, softly cooing at her. Her name was Daisy, named by a child she deemed to be "a little too loud and overbearing" but by the way Daisy whinnied about her, Scott could tell she did love the little girl. He missed his own horses something terrible, but hadn't found them yet. Scott gave a quiet sigh and in the horse's tongue, neighed, "'M more nervous than a whore in church." bit of a crass way to put it but it got across how nervous he really was. He had only spent a year out in the "real world" (though he'd argue that being out here, in the middle of nature, was the real world) and his people skills had barely gotten worked on. It was his own fault, for not trying harder with his co-workers, but he didn't want it to be found out that he was a mutant. Mutants weren't taken well more often than not, so it was better that he just kept to himself.

Daisy snorted in what was a laugh to Scott's ears. "Be fine, Scott." she softly nickered, shaking her head. Scott hum'd in acknowledgement though he didn't feel like he'd be fine. He was twenty-one years old and could barely hold a conversation. He was about to meet a lot of new people; it was going to be like the start of his first year in the "real world" all over again. Overwhelming, a bit scary, and frustrating. But, he had to make a change, for himself, and this would hopefully be the right one. "Ride here." Daisy snorted, rearing back a little as the Quinjet softly landed near them. Amazing, how the piece of technology could track where its passengers were, and pick them up accordingly. Scott didn't think about though, because he was too busy staring at the Quinjet. His immediate first thought was: I ain't gettin' on that thang. but Daisy nudged him in the shoulder as the back began to come down. Scott's heart skipped a beat from nerves and Daisy shoved harder. "Go on!" she whinnied and huffed after. Scott snapped out of his little daze, a mixture of awe and fear, and quickly turned to the Pinto horse. He put a false sense of cheer into his nickering. "Sure'nuff that's my ride! Daisy, ya have been a doll, I'll visit ya in the future!" he promised, placing his hand under her chin and making her look up to give the horse a quick kiss right on the nose, his cowboy hat threatening to fall off his head as the brim pushed into her forehead. Daisy jerked back and snorted a laugh, shaking her head as Scott fixed his hat and gave her a wink, before he picked up his old, rugged-looking suitcase and made his way towards the Quinjet.

The ramp dropped down all the way, squishing some of the grass beneath it, and Scott made his feet move up it. He could do this. He had made it through last year with being around strangers, with experiencing new things. So he could do thi- he came up short at just the amount of people in the space he deemed too little for that amount of people. His heart jumped into his throat and he bit down on his tongue when a neigh threatened to escape. Maybe he still had time to turn around and run, tail totally between his legs, because he looked like the oldest one here, and he couldn't avoid conversation in this space, and- the ramp was closing back up. And he had just been standing there, looking around with slightly widened eyes. So much for a first impression, ya dimwit. Lookin' like ya ain't got the sense God gave a goose.

Fingers, slightly shaking, gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter, and he had to fight off a shudder, a familiar zing going across his body. No, he wasn't going to shift now, he had to prevent shifting now. Okay, find an open seat, that was the first step. He noticed someone with actual wings and his eyes briefly lingered but then he felt another shudder threatening to rip through him, his stomach twisting from nerves and an impending shift. Thankfully, someone distracted him. The kid had brown hair and striking blue eyes. "Hey, cowboy, come sit with us!" he shouted with obvious glee, and okay, the distraction wasn't helping his nerves.

But to not keep standing there like a fool, he moved forward, his boots gently thumping on the floor of the Quinjet. Next to the blue-eyed kid that was practically vibrating, all bright eyes and big grins, was another kid. He looked a little older than the excitable kid, probably from the scruff on his face that made him look more mature. He had dirty blonde hair, and eyes that were blue, too; Scott quickly looked away as he sat one seat away from the, honestly, attractive blonde-haired-blue-eyed guy. He wasn't without manners, though. Just because he grew up isolated on a ranch and spent only a year with people his age or older, didn't mean he wasn't taught to be kind. He cleared his throat a little, kicking his suitcase under his seat and looking over at the excited kid who was grinning at him in a weird way and the handsome blonde kid. "Howdy." his voice roughened, deep, from how often he switched between human and animal tongue having affected it; he had, without realizing it, reached up and grabbed the brim of his hat, tilting it in their direction. He almost cringed at how Southern he sounded and behaved, his cheeks taking on a darker hue as he ducked his head, the brim of his hat hiding the top half of his face.



Nick had seemed like an excitable puppy before Garret had came onto the Quinjet, but now it was like he came to life, somehow, even more, bigger grins, brighter eyes. He owed a lot to Garret, more than he could ever give back to the other young man. He just adored Garret like nothing else in this world... expect maybe Cap but that was besides the point. Garret was his best friend, his partner in crime, his sidekick that wasn't really a sidekick. But most of all, Garret was his brother, a presence there that Nick had needed, that not even Cap could have given him. Without Garret, Nick was positive he'd be a completely different person. He didn't even notice how they might come off as anything other than brothers, because he was used to sprawling himself across Garret's lap, or leaning against him when standing, or grabbing his hand to drag him somewhere. They both were quite the tactile creatures and it showed very often. Nick didn't even think of what the others might possibly see them as, or just think about them overall. Even if he had, he wouldn't had cared, because Garret and him had a relationship that went beyond brothers but didn't pass into the territory of lovers.

He laughed loudly, probably too loudly, at Garrent's reply in French to him talking about Damon. Poor guy, Nick was never not going to stop paying attention to him, it seemed. Nick was a pretty surprisingly observant guy, even if his thoughts got away from him more often than not. So, he noticed the embarrassed blush slowly encasing Garret's face and had to bite down on his bottom lip hard to not point it out in a teasing fashion. "Aw, gaining Cap's manners? How patriotic of you," he teased quietly to Garret, so only he heard; which was easy, since he was so close to him without any shits given. His head snapped towards Rain when he heard she could run really fast. Like The Flash. Oh, The Flash! Another hero Nick wanted to meet. What the Hell was up with the abundance of heroes in the world, anwyay? Like, in a few hundred years, was the world just gonna be full with heroes and there would be no crime, just peace and a lot of bored superheroes unsure of what to do with their lives? They could make a superhero Olympics! Now that sounded fun. Shit, Nick wouldn't be alive in a few hundred years, so he was going to miss out. Unless he was reincarnated. But, then, he wouldn't remember his genius right now and that'd suck. But, he wouldn't know he couldn't remember his genius right now and so he wouldn't know it'd suck.

What took him out of his train of thought, was that kid, Will, recognizing Garret. He blinked a little over at the kid, trying to rack his brain on if he had possibly seen Will around the Tower, and hadn't acknowledged it (couldn't had forgotten, he never forgot, which was a blessing and a curse, but he can, in his own way, forget things by not acknowledging them or having them shoved so far back into his mind, it took a while to recall). He couldn't recall ever seeing Will (he had lived in the Tower for a year, a great year, one of the best years of his life for sure- concentrate) but Will called Tony uncle Stark so what was Nick missing? Nick didn't like missing things. He never missed bits of information and now he was definitely a little bothered he was missing something that had happened in the Tower. By the time he was working up to saying something, after shuffling through all those thoughts and getting to the part of his brain that helped him speak, the kid was going on a ramble about spies. Nick glanced at Garret, knowing how he felt about being here. He didn't want to be tied in to anything or anyone at the Tower, because he wanted to prove himself here, that he could do this without powers, and not seem like he had an advantage above everyone else from knowing any Avengers.

After the kid claimed top bunk - damnit, if I get roomed with him, I'm totally stealing it! - he grinned wide. " Or Uncle Tony just really likes this face!" he said, patting Garret's cheek, and then ruffling his hair playfully before turning his attention back to the kid. Seriously, that was his name for Will - the kid. He shall forever be called the kid in Nick's head... and in his words, because Nick didn't care. "If Garret was a spy, he'd make an amazing one! Oh!" Nick gasped, breaking away from Garret's hold, hopping off of his lap, and standing up. He changed the subject, which wasn't anything new for him, but it also took the attention off of Garret. "I forgot to finish explaining my powers! Okay, so like-" the ramp began to lower itself, and Nick took notice, since light flooded into the space, and he threw his hands up as another attractive human being came aboard. He was totally going to continue, but then she introduced herself, and how could Nick ignore a pretty lady introducing herself? It'd be so rude if he didn't say something! (Even if it seemed like the young woman was addressing the other two women instead of all the boys in here). "Je suis Nick! Jen, un autre beau visage à ajouter à cette ligne d'beaux visages, comment merveilleux!" he flashed a toothy grin over at her and said, thankfully in English this time, "So lovely to meet another lovely person!" he gave a dramatic bow her way, because it was Nick, and Nick was dramatic more often than not. "We were discussing our powers! So, like, finally gonna get around to telling mine! I mean, you guys will see it later- focus, Nick, focus! So, these markings on my arms are not tattoos, even though they totally look like it, right?" he stuck both his arms out, twisting and turning them how far they could go, staring at his own black, swirling markings.

"I can actually make 'em manifest! Like, to use as whips... like Indiana Jones. Feel free to call me Indy." he winked at no one in particular, just the general direction of everyone, because everyone was attractive, and Nick liked attractive things. "There's other crap I can do, too, but who wants to hear the boring details!? When you can just see it later!" again, he gave another dramatic bow, and went to take his seat back on Garret's lap, because he could when the Quinjet was landing softly again. Fast little fucker, this thing was, and Nick loved her so, so much. He might want to marry her. Oh! But he couldn't, because then he might cheat on her with the helicarrier! Such two beautiful ladies, how could he ever choose? He hadn't even seen the helicarrier yet. He was so excited to die over her. The ramp had finished dropping and Nick stopped settling down onto Garret when he saw a cowboy walk on board. Nick didn't think he had ever moved so fast before in his life, hopping off of Garret's lap and landing beside him with a thud that sounded slightly painful, and it was, and nudging Garret hard in the ribs with his elbow. "It's an actual cowboy, dude!!!!" he whispered excitedly, and loudly, in his ear, grabbing Garret's arm and shaking it before letting it go. Cowboy didn't look too happy, though. More so, he looked like he was ready to bolt when he saw everyone. Aw, poor cowboy was nervous! So, Nick took it upon himself to be the helpful young man that he was, and shouted out, "Hey, cowboy, come sit with us!"

Whoa, it worked! Cowboy came over and sat a seat away from Garret, those brown, obviously loved cowboy boots kicking his suitcase under the seat, before he looked over at them. Holy crap. Nick thought, because this man was all cowboy, and Nick couldn't be more excited for Garret. He didn't only dress like a cowboy, he looked like one, with the tanned skin, sun lines on his face, and the broad shoulders. Nick might be in-love with him. But not really, he wouldn't do that to Garret, who had a strange thing for old Westerns and Clint Eastwood. Who the Hell knew fate would actually come along? It didn't go unnoticed by Nick, since he had a focus on the cowboy he rarely showed, that the cowboy's eyes lingered on Garret, flickering over his face, and oh-ho, that was interesting. Something Nick wouldn't be shoving to the back of his head.

"Howdy." he spoke. He spoke in the most country way ever, with a voice so deep and rough, it was made gravelly, and Nick's insides melted. He looked around at everyone else in the Quinjet, wondering if they were witnessing this amazing thing unfolding as well. A cowboy! A real cowboy! Like, Nick had known people in the South still had ranches and farms, dressed all out, spoke just like cowboys would, but knowing about it and then seeing it were two different things. Nick had grown up in a city, then moved to another city. He hadn't even stepped foot anywhere near a rural place before. So, okay, Nick was a little dazzled by seeing someone that was so opposite what he knew, that was so different, even spoke different. Sure, there were others like that on here too, but nobody was dressed like a fucking cowboy okay. Nick was overreacting, but he overreacted about everything. First it had been Damon's wings that had him going, then Garret, and now it was a cowboy. Nick was very rarely bored with how easily his attention was snagged and kept by any and everything.

---

Watching on at the excited French exchange going on with a grin, Angel tried to pick up on what they were saying - but alas, for all the similarities between Italian and French, Nick and the newcomer were going too fast for her. At their interactions with one another, her first assumption was perhaps boyfriends? But as they continued talking, Angel could see something more than that - platonic, certainly, but stronger than some dumb guy crush too. They didn't look close enough to be brothers, but they could have easily passed as them, in her opinion.

As for Garret, their newcomer, she scanned his face, momentarily confused. Had she seen him before? There was something familiar about him - his face, his voice.

Pausing in her racking of her brains as Rain began speaking, Angel's smile returned as the other girl mentioned what her powers were.
"Super speed?! È fantastico! I'd love to have something like that - all I get is sparky fingers that only work how I want maybe two times out of five." Said with a jokingly tired sigh, her eyes then darting back to Will as the motormouth kicked off again. Sheesh, did the kid never shut up?

Judging by what Will blurted out with, things clicked into place in her memory. She had seen Garret before! At the Avenger's tower, when she'd been there last week. They'd been nice enough to let her stay until everything was settled with Avenger's academy - besides, she hadn't really been in a good state to travel anywhere. Just getting to the damn tower in the first place had been hell - Angel had been scared witless that she was going to pass out or something again in the middle of flying. Anyway, she'd briefly seen him - either heard his voice in the distance, saw him with either Black Widow or Hawkeye, but never had any proper contact with him. Deciding that now wouldn't be the time to bring it up - Angel instead turned her attention to yet another girl boarding the jet. Upon hearing her talk, Angel was astounded to realise what country they'd landed in - did they really just cross the Atlantic in a manner of minutes?

"This jet is better than I thought - doesn't just look good, it is good. I wonder what kind of firepower it has?" The thought was an exciting one - although she didn't use them herself, Angel enjoyed a good gun. Hell, she admired any kind of sexy looking machinery - especially things like vehicles. this jet, classic cars...Oooh, Harley motorcycles. Goddamn.

During her swift hello to Jen, and then a content daydream about motorbikes or taking this jet for a joyride, yet another passenger boarded. Looks like they were back in the states, if one were to assume from the guy's outfit and accent. In fact, this had been the first cowboy Angel had met. Sure, she'd seen plenty of Texan barons that her father mingled with, all of them wearing those stupid white suits and bolo ties - and awful ten gallon hats - but this guy was a proper cowboy, right down to the boots.

When she was younger, living in Italy, her aunt and uncle had lived out in the countryside, with a gorgeous farm that had horses. A distinct lack of cowboys in Italy, naturally, but the horses were glorious. The amount of times she'd visited as a child just to watch them run free in the fields, or to groom them in the stables, were countless. Yet another thing he missed of her home - and the subtle smell of horses that Scott had brought onboard with him just brought all those memories back.

"Ciao! Nice to have you onboard!" She welcomed him from her seat with a friendly grin, considering the guy looked kind of skittish to be here. Perhaps he was claustrophobic? Or didn't enjoy flying? Whatever it was, she felt the need to try and make him feel somewhat better. He reminded her of her cousin, in a way - he'd practically lived in the stables with damn horses, much to the ire of his parents. Naturally, at that age, he was more of an older brother to her than just extended family.