Blizz

Avengers Academy 💥

Leah Jordan

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Location: Hedge Maze > AA
Gear: A bloodstained dress and a sword
Skills:
Oh god oh fuck

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She was mad. Leah had attacked and killed the creature that could have swallowed her girlfriend whole, and Sabine was mad. It was obvious, right? Leah wasn’t crazy for assuming based on the icy attitude she suddenly had after being so pissed at Nimue, was she? She wasn’t overreacting and making a mountain out of a molehill by filling in blanks that weren’t even there, right? Leah said absolutely nothing when Sabine walked off, and she couldn’t. There was this knot forming in her chest, a small note of dread that was only getting worse the longer Leah just stood around, doing nothing. She was such a god damn fool, a fucking moron! Of COURSE Sabine would’ve manipulated his memories to calm him down! She was in his HANDS! There was no possible reality in which Leah could’ve POSSIBLY killed him quicker than she could calm him down!

Did she have trust issues? Did she not trust Sabine to use just powers properly? No, of course she did. She saw dad beating she shit out of Leah once- But that was by accident- No, shut the fuck up and CALM THE FUCK DOWN!

Leah needed to move, or she’d be here all night.

April needed someone right now. She was crying, and Leah was still here moping over a dead dog. Leah was an absolute fucking joke of a girlfriend, screaming loud enough to shake the heavens when April was scared and vulnerable, and not stopping to think about the cost of vengeance. And now, she was just sulking.

Hee grip around the sword tensed up, threatening to shatter the hilt, before she took in a deep breath. She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t. She doesn’t. She’s not mad, she’s just stressed out and doesn’t want to think about it anymore than you do. It’s going to be fine.

She could tell herself that all night, and maybe she could fool herself into thinking it might work if she tried hard enough.

Leah finally managed to turn her gaze away from the corpse and walk out of the doors. Tonight was a disaster, and it would’ve been so much easier on everyone if she had just listened to her own pitiful paranoia, and stayed in fucking bed. Leah could’ve saved everyone the trouble of embarrassing April, killing an innocent creature and now having to face all of her little fuckups if she didn’t have the hubris to think she could enjoy one night without a care; Why did she deserve to associate with people in a party? The one time she tried, she made everything so much worse.

The hallways were quiet, everyone was either dancing or in their dorms right now. Leah walked past hers, and stopped when she saw that there was a switchblade stuck in the door. A folded up postcard was nailed to the door by it. Leah stared at it for second, wondering why someone didn’t just tape it or something.

She learned her new sword against the wall and unstuck the postcard, letting the knife clutter to the floor. She opened it, and her blood ran cold. It said it was from Oslo, Norway. And there was nothing on the inside by two simple words.

Mayra Pavon

There were only two people alive in the universe who knew that name. Sabine was one of them, and Leah tried to kill the other one. The world around her fell away, like old quarters down a well, and there was only black around the edges of her vision.

Leah was a grain of sand in a desert. A drop of water in an ocean. She was incomprehensible small, unfit to stand against the weight of the world.

He found her. She was running out of time.

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The low drone of the fluorescent lights held her attention long enough that she didn’t notice the needle, until after it had left her skin. She didn’t know what it was that he had put in it, but she didn’t feel like asking.

Mayra didn’t feel like eating, either. But she was hungry.

”Your wrist will heal in four days,” he told her, in a tone that she had long since come to understand as disappointment. ”And your training will continue in two.” Imperator fixed a look at her, which she didn’t see, because her eyes were cast down to the floor.

Then there was a pause.

”Look at me, Mayra.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, a pair of blood red orbs. Redder than all the blood she lost today.

”You had better start impressing me, before I break you down every day. Your mutant powers can rip a volcano from the earth, and today, you could barely push a cinder block. That is miserable. No daughter of mine is going to have such a sad excuse for control over her powers.”

She couldn’t look away, or he’d snap her legs again. Or maybe he’d put another hairline fracture in her skull. He could’ve done a thousand things to her before she could blink, sometimes… And he could tell she was shaking.

It only made him scowl.

”I…” She tried to say something, but quickly felt her voice die in her throat. The lab became dead silent. The lights weren’t loud enough.

”Speak up, girl.”

She couldn’t. He’d kill her if Mayra talked back to him. She looked away.

”Say it,” he demanded.

He hated repeating himself.

She could feel herself choking.

Imperator’s grip on her arm tightened. The fact that it didn’t hurt told her that she was in danger.

Silence. Suffocating silence.

”NOW!!!”

He screamed, and Mayra flinched as if he had punched her again. Her eyes screwed shut and did not open. She was going to die, she just knew it.

It was stupid to try and speak, but it would’ve been stupider not to listen to him.

”It’s too hard- I can’t- I-I can’t do it. I’m tired, it’s too much. It’s too hard to move anything else…”

She was worthless. Dead weight. A waste of resources. Imperator glared through her, Mayra could just feel how much he hated looking after a hopeless brat like her.

”If you’re too weak train, then you’re too weak to eat my food. Fix the rest of your injuries, and don’t take too long. You have work to do.”

He didn’t give her the chance to argue, not that she would have. He stood up, and walked out of the doors to the lab. The elevator whirred into silence as he went back up to the surface.

Mayra doubled over on the bed and finally broke down into tears. She sobbed, and trembled like a dying animal.

If he had seen her cry like this, he would’ve shot her between the eyes. So she didn’t allow herself to shed too many tears.

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The door to the dorm opened slowly, and Leah stepped into the room to the sight of her “friends,” by someone’s definition, consoling April. Leah looked tired, dejected and lost. She held her sword and the veritable death knell with her birth name in one hand.

She didn’t have the right to be here.

”…I’m sorry,” she said, weakly, to April and Sabine.

The least she could do was pretend she deserved their love.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: A Gaggle of Dipshits, and his Friends

Isle of Cracks

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”I apologize. I hope that from here on, the Coven and PRA can have a positive relationship."

I’ve seen conservative politicians lie better than that, Liao, he thought to himself. He was willing to believe that there existed such a reality in which Meifeng genuinely felt bad about what she did. But he was not born yesterday, and Lila, being the only one really staring Stormy down intensely right now, would be able to see the subtle expression of… Unamusement on his face that no one else could. It was easy for him to keep things from strangers, but his friends were always very good at reading him like a kindergarten-level book.

And he knew better than to believe that the PRA wanted a positive relationship with them. Police officers didn’t give a rat’s ass about having a positive relationship with the communities they regulated, prison guards couldn’t give a shit maintaining a positive relationship with inmates. It wasn’t in their job description to play nice with people, especially not when there wasn’t anyone around to hold them accountable. That was why Stormy decided to extend an olive branch to these people. Not to befriend them, but to know his enemy.

His drink came by, a dark and stormy. The man who ordered it did so as a joke, hoping someone would pick up on just how absolutely masterful his sense of humor was. He took a contemplative sip of it and measured his words carefully, and professionally.

”It is not my place to decide whether you should be forgiven. And I have no right to take you up on your offer. But, I’m glad you mention it… I was not present when you overstepped,” he explained factually, without any audible judgment. ”But my understanding of your command structure is that you have a superior you answer to. Director Alcott, I believe their name is? Do they allow you the freedom to maintain a positive relationship with us? With Greenwood? 8th Street?” It was taking a monumental effort to be calm right now. When he first heard about the raid, Stormy was tempted to hop into his car and hunt them all down for sport, like something out of a movie. But there were more important things to worry about at the time.

Similarly, there were things more important in the present moment than being outwardly hostile. Lila and Lynn were absolutely right. He could play nice with them, but under no circumstances was he going to be friendly with them.

”You were angry, because Kali Mahendra was killed. We were angry because he was killed. Now, my friends can tell you that I be irrational myself,” Stormy damn near tore Britney’s head clean off when he first saw her during the reunion... And when he learned about what she did a decade ago. ”But… Was there not a better way to prove we were innocent? You are a government agency, you likely knew exactly where we were at the time of his death, every last one of us. And more importantly, you had to have known that we were all returning here for a reason, including Kali; An agent who our leader contacted.”

He said all this as if he were presenting evidence in a court room. Not an accusation in sight, just cold, clinical observation. ”Would agent Mahendra not have reported that information to you? It stands to reason that, because you have- had two of our former members working under you, your department would have known about our reunion long before we arrived.”

There is something that goes unsaid, there: You have no excuse.

”So, I’m sure you can understand why your apology isn’t easy to believe.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location | The Sanctum Sanctorum
Skills | Extra-Planar Navigation, Magic Expertise, Basic Spellcraft, Soul Staff, Mutant Circuit
Spells |
Outfit

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It went so, so wrong.

To Jack’s credit, the portals absolutely started draining the infernal energy into the Everdark. But the problem with being magically connected to an entire plane of reality was that the energy of that realty flowed through him. Every facet of Jack’s self started withering, his bones felt weaker and his teeth loosened from his jaw. Time slipped away faster and faster. Moreover, he felt himself dying. His vision was fading to black just before he saw Ananym in the blaze of the pentagram. Needling him, taunting his blunder. Jack wasn’t surprised by this outcome, after all, anything was possible through magic.

The Everdark would be fine, he felt sure of that. It was all but boundless as the known universe. By the time that energy spread, it would be absorbed by something. And by the time something absorbed it, another one of the land’s monstrous denizens would simply adhere to the food chain, and the corruption would dwindle into nothing.

Would this world be fine? Was this the last story he would ever witness? In all of Jack’s years, he learned time and time again that nothing could last forever. Everything came and went, but evils rose and fell in the same way. If he slipped into the endless sleep of death now, Jack would become a fleeting memory. Reza wasn’t around to remember him, neither were Stephen and Ororo. He would not be remembered, even if the other seven companions on this journey somehow managed to stop Witchfire.

And yet, Jack felt that he was okay with that.

The impact he had on countless places would live on. Someone would one day stumble upon the things he left behind, and make something of themselves. He was one drop in a cosmic ocean, but part of it no less. And for him, that was enough…

Until Max saved his ass.

He felt Max’s magic overlapping with his own, mixing like blood in clear water. It spread, until the blood had no beginning, and the water had no end. They were no longer Jack and Max, but one individual. It was… Strange. And Jack- What part of them was Jack, had to think. They were one now, and their magic was equally unified.

”You damned fool,” he said to himself. ”Now we’ll both die from this.”

"I can't die yet, got a husband and kid waiting for me back home. But what we can do is give it our all and take this thing down."

He thought to themselves… Magic was a method of infinite possibilities. What separated a good wizard from the best was how they applied the possibilities, how they turned the circumstances against them into a favorable outcome.

So how did they turn this into an advantage?

For a moment, Jack was silent. Perhaps Max knew every thought in his mind now, how he desperately wanted to do the right thing. A plan slowly formed in his mind.

”I’ve got it… We’ll use your magic to teleport the power source away to safety, one by one. And we’ll use mine to substitute a source in, until it is safe to collapse the pentagram in on itself,” he explained. ”I will use Everdark energy in place of it, and I will cut it off once everyone is at a safe distance. The pentagram should, in theory, have no more fuel at that point.”

"The force binding them was too strong for me earlier to teleport them off...but perhaps united we actually stand a chance. Especially if we're swapping one source for another...Fine. It's the best lead we have, worst case we fail and approach from another angle we haven't thought of yet."

”Or the Veil suffers for nothing. The risk is that we do more damage than we can fix with our divided power.”

It scared him, to not be able to stop the incursion permanently.

”But we’ve run through most of our options. So, if you’re ready…”

"As ready as I can be I suppose."

They reached for the energy of Jack’s home, and split open fonts of darkness to replace the babies. Like fuming black holes, the energy leaked into the open air of Earth and dissipated into harmless nothingness in equal measure. The energy sources spilled out dark energy in total equilibrium. In the same motion, they asserted their will over reality itself, and three of them were sent off into who-knows-where.

”It is working, slowly but steadi-“

The energy of the pentagram cascaded at one corner, immediately mutating one of them. A pang of stress filled Jack. ”No- Damn you, Witchfire,” he hissed. ”…Three out of five, Max. Progress, at last. All we have to do is continue, and hope for the best. And… Make a note to see if we can undo the mutation that just occurred once we have a chance.”

It was working, even if the results were unexpected.

Max helped guide his magic as the pair moved as one. Each infant appearing in the only location he knew to send them, the main floor of the Sanctum Sanctorum. A place both wizards were well acquainted with. He'd initially thought to send them to Xaviers, but there was no guarantee these babes were mutants or orphans, so it was best to keep them close. "There's nothing wrong with having a mutation Jack, though I suppose we could attempt to reverse the mutate if it is possible at all."

”This is not quite the same mutation that my old friends from Charles Xavier’s mansion are familiar with. We are responsible for that, it is the least we can do. Though, if we cannot, then we will decide what to do afterwards.”

They had a solution now, and everything seemed so much easier when the way ahead was clear.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

RPG is a buggy disaster so ignore this

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Oh, you know.

Cracker Barrel

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It was not lost on Jack that Sloane wanted to quickly swerve away from the subject of her dating success. He kept quiet as Sloane deflected to Anya’s success with relationships, and of course that wasn’t going to happen. Anya wasn’t the type to enjoy dating. Which was fair, it was something too many people felt obligated to entertain the notion that oneself must be completed by another. That to be fulfilled was to intertwine with another person for life, and only then could one be considered “whole,” lest they die alone. Maybe it was because of Jack’s inter-dimensional antics, but he didn’t see the point in obsessing over such a thing.

Then again, he obsessed over something different for a decade.

But now, both of them seemed to have an interest in his love life. Which, admittedly, did not exist. Anya and Sloane might have had their own journeys through the pool, but Jack simply always stayed on shore. He had been single most of his life, and never met anyone who he felt he could enter a relationship with since Reza’s death. Anya was right, there weren’t many options in the void. But that was fine.

Jack laughed, weakly at that notion. ”Another time, perhaps,” he answered. ”I’m not concerned with that currently. Between traveling out of Shimmer as I do, and the fact that I’ve been gone so long, it would not be feasible.” Jack lived a life that made relationships somewhat difficult. He could maintain contact with friends no matter where he was in the All-Verse, with a bit of effort and magic work. He could always show up on time to a night out of drinks and Jack could always tell an interesting story at a gathering to keep boredom at bay. But traveling constantly didn’t allow for time to build up a romantic relationship. He wasn’t prone to staying in one place, where most people eventually decided to settle down and made their nest.

And there was also the fact that Jack hadn’t been here in a decade. He didn’t know anyone outside the coven’s remnants anymore, meaning he was nothing more than a stranger to St. Portwell’s current magic scene. ”I wouldn’t want to trouble you two with that. And besides, Father Wolf is more important to me right now. I am not in a good position to pursue a relationship.” _{And I find it hard to imagine anyone would be interested regardless.}

”If it is meant to happen, then it will happen,” he said, cryptically. ”I’m in no hurry.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

This gives me an idea where Jack and Layla try and mix their abstractions some how, ngl

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Interactions: Oh, you know.

Cracker Barrel

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Jack teleported the three of them to the resort bar, led there by Sloane's recommendation. It was nice, Jack appreciated the location as they walked in and found a seat overlooking the rocky shore of the beach. To absolutely no one's surprise, Jack got himself a dark rum. He took a seat across from Anya at the table and stared out at the dark beach. It was like the Void, in some aspect. A place of nothingness that he could stare into for hours, and find but scarce traces of life until he came back to reality. Here, there was only the friends he made a lifetime ago, and for that he could only feel grateful. Jack often felt that he should've done this more, as a kid. If the old coven wasn't coming up with ways to deal with the Stygian Snake, they were being children and partying; Friendships were cemented and bad choices were made, but the coven's members lived by them knowing that if they died the next day, they also truly lived. Meanwhile, Jack hopped from the Temple's library to coven hideouts with clockwork predictability, on an eternal quest to further the coven's interests.

He had given up valuable connections in favor of making it easier on others to live another day. It may have left little room for some bridges to be built, but more of them made it out alive than not. So now, it was time to make amends for that.

Sloane wasn't much for casual conversation, clearly. So when Anya decided to spill the details of her """date,""" Jack leaned in and listened intently with a sip of his rum.

Hearing the details was like hearing nails drag across a chalkboard. The PRA had a literal neo-Nazi calling the shots before now. Jack already firmly decided that the PRA was beneath him, like sheep to a lion, but to hear that promoted them from sheep to ants. Anya's pseudo-paramour survived their purge, which meant he was still around for a reason. There was more to him than he let on, and those were the dangerous types. Jack would know, he had a knack for deception himself, after all.

At the mention of fisting the fucking demigod of sin and darkness, Jack lowered his head. He could feel himself age at a rate completely offsetting the time he spent displaced in the Void, and his sympathy for Anya multiplied into infinity. "If I had known it would be that agonizing to occupy the same space as him, I would have sacrificed myself to spare you..." He took a sizeable drink from his glass.

"God in Heaven... Men." Jack was glad he had offered to be on speed dial for Anya before that. "The next time we have the misfortune of interacting with... Him, let me do it," He finally said. "I have a feeling he only pretends to be so disgustingly stupid, and I'm well-versed in the art of lying to someone's face." Back in the old days, any time someone brought out a deck of cards, Jack was a menace.

"But, your sacrifice will not be forgotten," he joked.

Interactions: A Gaggle of Dipshits, and his Friends

Isle of Cracks

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All according to plan.

That was what, seven? Eight drinks he volunteered to pay for? Honestly, he fully expected the rest of the PRA to show up. Not only half of them. But he wasn't going to be drank into poverty by this. After all, he wouldn't have offered if he wasn't sincere. A couple of them weren't exactly up for getting drinks, but they didn't need to be, it was totally fine. Out of all of them, Lila seemed to be the only one with an actual objection. She had every right to protest, but he would've talked about it if Britney didn't show up and ask about everything happening. He could tell Lila wasn't happy about that, so he stepped closer to her side, both to stop another outbreak of tempers and to give the Maiden less of a chance to capitalize on her discomfort.

"Nothing happened, Britney. Everything's alright," he assured her. Technically a lie, but nothing happened that couldn't be prevented by his magic and a bit of quick thinking. "Text us if you need anything, we'll be around." That was the polite was for him to say, "They won't be happy about you sticking around, so don't." Stormy wanted to keep things polite and mature, while making sure everyone was respected.

He waited until everyone was paying attention to something else to say something to Lila, quietly. "You have a right to be unhappy with this. I just want them to admit they were wrong to attack us, before anything else. I'll come to a conclusion about if they can be forgiven or not after that. If you don't want to come with us, I can put an aura in something for you to hold onto." Surely, the others would like to hear the cops take accountability for their own actions, but someone had to extend the olive branch first. It was unlikely the PRA would, so he wanted to be the better man.

And then, he focused back on the two groups that had come together. "Alright. Let’s find a table or two away from any Blinds. Then we can talk."

This must be how ambassadors felt, negotiating peace treaties between warring nations. At least if anyone started throwing stones, he could step in again. But for now, Stormy had a feeling that wouldn't be too necessary.

Stormy took off. Presumably, the others followed. He led everyone to an outdoor bar with a nice view of the rocky ocean off to the side. He grabbed an open table big enough for everyone to sit at, and started ordering a couple drinks. It was quiet, since most people were on the other end of the island drinking and doing festive things there, rather than here.

He let the others get their orders taken care of, and once everyone had a glass who wanted one, he started the conversation.

”Now, let’s talk about what happened at the church,” he said, calmly. ”I wasn’t there, so why don’t you tell me what happened?”

He already knew what happened, having heard it from the coven members. But he wanted to hear it from the PRA, and how they would try to justify it. If they would try to justify it.

X-Men: GenetiX

Why was she saying this? Jean’s attempt at a conversation wasn’t making a lot of coherent sense, Ryder couldn’t tell where she was going with this. True, she currently saw every hallway and corner of the school, and had not slept once since the time she faked being in a coma. But why did Jean feel tne need to bring it up? What was the point of this?

”The hell are you talking about?” Peace didn’t exist in Ryder’s world. It had no analog, no comparison, or equivalent. Ryder blinked slowly, not of a sound enough mind to verbally rip the woman’s head off. She didn’t have refuge or safety in her own mind, impenetrable as it was. ”Are you following me, or something?” She asked, audibly less aggressive or outwardly hostile than normal.

She couldn’t let herself fall asleep. It was dangerous here. She needed to treat them like they were dangerous in the same way a wounded animal needed to treat every sound like a threat. It was just natural, even in weakness.