X-men: Outcasts Assembled #1
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The Corleone Family
General
Name: Duncan Fraser
Alias: Red Haze
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 6’1
Weight: 193 lbs
Mutant: Yes
Affiliation: X-men (formerly)
Physical Description:
Duncan is a muscular man of above average height, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He typically appears neat and tidy, keeping his beard well-groomed and wearing white stainless shirts. Duncan wears glasses to reduce the strain on his eyes as caused by his mutant gene.
Personality:
Duncan is a calm and intelligent individual with an unshakable determination to complete the goals he has set out for himself. While thoughtful at heart, his strained relations with his family made him appear apathetic. He is plagued by a feeling of responsibility for his younger sister Clementine but prefers to keep his distance from this source of stress in his life. Moreover, Duncan worries that both his siblings – who unlike him are omega level mutants – will come to abuse their powers. However, he doubts if these worries of his are just, or if they are borne from jealousy.
Backstory
Duncan Fraser was the first child set on this world by the infamous mutant Giovanni Corleone. Protected from his father's nefarious ambition by his mother's fiery temper and iron will, the young Duncan experienced a warm, stable, and supportive upbringing. That was, until his mutation manifested at the age of eleven. Aileen Fraser, who was very much aware of her husband's criminal activities, could not bear to see her son go down the same path. She kept his mutation a secret by lying that her son's sight had deteriorated beyond repair. Duncan, who's out of control mutation began causing migraine and partial colour-blindness, was forced by his mother's lies to feign blindness. The lies that had forced the pre-teen to live impaired could not protect him for long. At the age of fourteen, his father figured out the truth. In a last ditch effort to protect him from his father's influence, Aileen Fraser sent her son away. To the only safe-haven for mutants - Xavier's School for the Gifted. In that same year, her mother would trade her life for that of her daughter; Clementine Fraser.
Despite the grief that Duncan went through, the guidance of his experienced teachers helped him wrestle control over his mutation. More - he was able to make it a genuine part of himself. However, the beliefs of his teachers at Xavier's diametrically opposed that of his father - who he stayed with during summer holidays. With his mother no longer there to shield him, Duncan became aware of his father's true nature. While he had hoped to heal the rift between him and his father, if only for the wellbeing of his younger sister Clementine, they only grew further apart. Their strained relationship turned into a full-blown fight when Duncan at age sixteen joined the X-men's division in Europe.
It ended with a battle between the X-men and Giovanni in the streets of the French city Nice. While determined to end his father's vast criminal empire and claim guardianship of his sister, Duncan failed at both. There was not enough evidence to put Giovanni away, and neither could Duncan present a strong enough case to save his sister. Duncan Fraser - now going by his maternal surname - had won the battle, but lost the war.
Wrecked by the outcome of both trials, Duncan resigned from active duty as X-man. Believing himself unfit for the role, he instead began to pursue a career in life sciences. In the years that followed he would frequently support his former team as expert and advisor, even leading some small field missions. At twenty-nine, Duncan earned his doctor's title and took a position as head-researcher of an institute in Helsinki, Finland. There he would continue to work for the next three years, carefully watching every move of Giovanni and his siblings.
Mutation:
Mutant power level: Alpha
General description: Duncan can turn shades of the colour red that are present in his field of vision into a malleable kinetic energy. This kinetic energy can be shaped into weapons and constructs or released as powerful concussive blasts of ruby-coloured force.
Limits & Weaknesses: Duncan can only draw on the available amount of “red” that is in his field of vision. For example, the surface area of a red cup is enough to generate a dagger from, but not a shield. Additionally, once the colour red is drawn from its source by Duncan, the source desaturates to a dull grey, making his kinetic energy a finite resource. Duncan’s kinetic constructs keep existing outside of his field of vision, but to move them or change their shape, he must be able to see them.
As a side-effect of his mutation Duncan perceives shades of red as bright and vibrating, while other colours are dulled. He wears a pair of special glasses to prevent a headache from this effect.
Assets:
WIP
X-men: Outcasts Assembled
Outcasts Assembled is a casual roleplay between a group of befriended writers, based on Marvel Comic’s X-men series. The story takes place in an alternative universe with original characters. Background information such as factions, past events, and major players will be established over time with writer contributions.
Rules
1. Of course, be kind to your fellow writers
2. You may apply as mutant or regular human, using the character template displayed below.
3. No aliens, reality manipulation, godmodding, or extremely advanced technology.
4. Iterations of canon marvel characters may be referenced to or appear in the story when agreed upon but do otherwise not officially exist in this AU.
Background Information
To be added.
Major Events
To be added.
Approved characters and NPCs
To be added.
As they moved through the crowded hallway just past the coat check room, Percy wished they would've tried going backstage instead. The place wasn't supposed to be a maze, but finding the artist's entrance with all these people blocking his view made it feel like it was. Then there were also the four nefarious figures, who he had lost sight of after an older lady had almost pushed him down a small set of stairs. Accidentally - of course.
By the time he had found the hallway that led to their strange informant's dressing room, the main hall was almost clear, save for a few people who had drinks there afterwards. In the hallway and backrooms, there were also still people going about their business. Enough to make him consider that any feat of magic here was going to mean breaking magic law. It made him regret giving Nerissa her wand. That regret only deepened when they rounded the final corner.
From the opposite of the stuffy corridor came four figures, who stopped like he did. Between the two parties, on the right side, was room number 17. Topsy's room.
Percy raised his hands. "Wait!" He saw hesitance, although all four had drawn their wands. "Let's all put those down, okay?" He slowly lowered his own, hoping they'd follow suit. "Nobody'll get hurt and we can talk this out like civilized people." He made a small signal to Nerissa, hoping she would also lay down her wand like he was about to do, although he was pretty sure she wouldn't. "Now we're here just to talk with an acquaintance of ours. After that we'll-"
"So she is their informant!" Percy realized his mistake. "Get them and kill her!" A woman's voice roared. Magic sparked like fireworks through the hallway as all four of them unleashed destructive curses. He could hardly distinguish them, let alone conjure a shield in time. Fortunately, he was as fast as lightning with apparating. One moment he stood beside Nerissa, and in the next, he tackled the two dark wizards that stood in the back. Glass shattered and wood splintered where he had previously stood, the door and cheap-looking chandelier taking the hits meant for him.
The struggle on the ground didn't last as long as he had hoped. One of the two he had taken with him to the ground grabbed his shoulder with a strong, hairy arm, and hurled him further back in the corridor. Percy fired a poorly aimed stunning spell as he was thrown away, but the other wizard conjured a shield do deflect it.
He crashed into a small trophy cabinet, at the end of the corridor, and felt a dull pain in his back. He wanted nothing more than a moment to recover from that brief flight, as well as the dizziness that his apparating tackle had given him. Not that he'd get one.
Percy ducked to the side just in time to see lightning flash over his head. A silver cup above him shattered into a thousand pieces. "Nerissa! Don't let them get to the door!" He shouted - hoping she understood what was on the line here. Then, he tapped with his wand against the wall and whispered three words that made it seem as if the corridor curved. The curvature increased until Nerissa lost sight of him and the two dark wizards that he had previously tackled.
It was a simplified form of the Fidelius charm, crossed with a concealment spell. It was among one of the finer creations of the great alchemist Paracelsus, whose work Percy knew by heart. It distorted closed spaces with only two exits, tying them together so there was no way of escape. Of course here, that meant his two assailants would only have to turn around to face him from another angle.
Yet Percy was faster. He conjured a shield to stave off the next barrage of hexes and curses, then pointed his wand to his left. "Stupefy!" a white flash shot down the hallway, only to come up behind the wizards and hit the one on the left square in the chest. He stumbled forward and fell, but still moved.
Percy cursed under his breath as he scrambled up. "Of course. Of course they're not human!"
By the time he had found the hallway that led to their strange informant's dressing room, the main hall was almost clear, save for a few people who had drinks there afterwards. In the hallway and backrooms, there were also still people going about their business. Enough to make him consider that any feat of magic here was going to mean breaking magic law. It made him regret giving Nerissa her wand. That regret only deepened when they rounded the final corner.
From the opposite of the stuffy corridor came four figures, who stopped like he did. Between the two parties, on the right side, was room number 17. Topsy's room.
Percy raised his hands. "Wait!" He saw hesitance, although all four had drawn their wands. "Let's all put those down, okay?" He slowly lowered his own, hoping they'd follow suit. "Nobody'll get hurt and we can talk this out like civilized people." He made a small signal to Nerissa, hoping she would also lay down her wand like he was about to do, although he was pretty sure she wouldn't. "Now we're here just to talk with an acquaintance of ours. After that we'll-"
"So she is their informant!" Percy realized his mistake. "Get them and kill her!" A woman's voice roared. Magic sparked like fireworks through the hallway as all four of them unleashed destructive curses. He could hardly distinguish them, let alone conjure a shield in time. Fortunately, he was as fast as lightning with apparating. One moment he stood beside Nerissa, and in the next, he tackled the two dark wizards that stood in the back. Glass shattered and wood splintered where he had previously stood, the door and cheap-looking chandelier taking the hits meant for him.
The struggle on the ground didn't last as long as he had hoped. One of the two he had taken with him to the ground grabbed his shoulder with a strong, hairy arm, and hurled him further back in the corridor. Percy fired a poorly aimed stunning spell as he was thrown away, but the other wizard conjured a shield do deflect it.
He crashed into a small trophy cabinet, at the end of the corridor, and felt a dull pain in his back. He wanted nothing more than a moment to recover from that brief flight, as well as the dizziness that his apparating tackle had given him. Not that he'd get one.
Percy ducked to the side just in time to see lightning flash over his head. A silver cup above him shattered into a thousand pieces. "Nerissa! Don't let them get to the door!" He shouted - hoping she understood what was on the line here. Then, he tapped with his wand against the wall and whispered three words that made it seem as if the corridor curved. The curvature increased until Nerissa lost sight of him and the two dark wizards that he had previously tackled.
It was a simplified form of the Fidelius charm, crossed with a concealment spell. It was among one of the finer creations of the great alchemist Paracelsus, whose work Percy knew by heart. It distorted closed spaces with only two exits, tying them together so there was no way of escape. Of course here, that meant his two assailants would only have to turn around to face him from another angle.
Yet Percy was faster. He conjured a shield to stave off the next barrage of hexes and curses, then pointed his wand to his left. "Stupefy!" a white flash shot down the hallway, only to come up behind the wizards and hit the one on the left square in the chest. He stumbled forward and fell, but still moved.
Percy cursed under his breath as he scrambled up. "Of course. Of course they're not human!"
"Entertaining?" He frowned. "She supposedly knows more about your brother's operations here than the British Ministry does. Moreover," he jotted a finger in her direction, "it'll be you and I who they end up blaming for it." His other hand wrapped around the stem of his wineglass. "I'm not planning to go out that way." He finally muttered, bringing the glass to his lips. He could almost taste a reflection of his own anxiety in the wine as the show continued. The only 'relief' - if that was what you could call it - came from the equally irking remarks made by the dark witch to his right.
"I am not going to use the Imperiatus curse on her." He declared as calmly as he could. It still came out as a biting remark, however. "There is nothing I 'want' from her, except for the information we need." If she was going to be like this all the time, this whole ordeal was going to be one of his most frustrating experiences yet.
His eyes scanned the crowd once more. Most of the tables were occupied, most by small groups in casual to slightly fancy outfits who were here for an exciting night out. There were some he moved right over, and others that his gaze lingered on. There were three groups, slightly bigger than the others, that he guessed were bachelor parties. Then there was a couple at a table in the front, who were either trying to rob each other or doing things he considered quite inappropriate. Some tables back, two waiters were arguing with their voices kept low. Lastly, his gaze fell on a group of four standing to the side. Judging from their faces and hard looks, they weren't here just to ejoy the show. "Acquaintances of yours, Miss Wyrmstone?" He whispered, nudging his head slightly in their direction. "If not, then I fear that we might get to know them better before the night is over." He remarked dryly.
When the final shot was to be fired, Topsy's measuring eyes met theirs. For the brief instance that they did, Percy caught on to her look. "She knows." He felt a little more at ease, knowing that the first contact was made. Usually any plan he was a part of crashed and burned the minute he stepped in.
When the grand finale ended and the applause came, Percy looked in the direction of the four men again. Then muttered a curse. "They're gone." Had they noticed them? No, that was unlikely. Even if they stood out slightly in their attire, the audience sat tightly packed together and the lighting made it difficult to make out faces. Besides, there was an easier target. A target who's current location was marked by a door with her name etched into it. "They're going after her. We need to get there fi-" He was interrupted by the bunny girl from earlier, holding an invitation. Percy took it and studied it with a frown. "This woman's really one for theatrics, isn't she?" He commented, handing the piece of paper to Nerissa for her to study.
"Fine," that was more to himself, "let's get going then. Oh! Before I forget-" He stopped mid-turn, fishing the nefarious black wand out of his coat pocket. "you'll need this if we run into those four." He thrust it toward her. "And only if they attack first, you hear me? If." He rounded on her again a heartbeat later. "And also no more than necessary. We don't exactly have a license to kill here. Or grievously mutilate them." He sincerely hoped she understood.
"I am not going to use the Imperiatus curse on her." He declared as calmly as he could. It still came out as a biting remark, however. "There is nothing I 'want' from her, except for the information we need." If she was going to be like this all the time, this whole ordeal was going to be one of his most frustrating experiences yet.
His eyes scanned the crowd once more. Most of the tables were occupied, most by small groups in casual to slightly fancy outfits who were here for an exciting night out. There were some he moved right over, and others that his gaze lingered on. There were three groups, slightly bigger than the others, that he guessed were bachelor parties. Then there was a couple at a table in the front, who were either trying to rob each other or doing things he considered quite inappropriate. Some tables back, two waiters were arguing with their voices kept low. Lastly, his gaze fell on a group of four standing to the side. Judging from their faces and hard looks, they weren't here just to ejoy the show. "Acquaintances of yours, Miss Wyrmstone?" He whispered, nudging his head slightly in their direction. "If not, then I fear that we might get to know them better before the night is over." He remarked dryly.
When the final shot was to be fired, Topsy's measuring eyes met theirs. For the brief instance that they did, Percy caught on to her look. "She knows." He felt a little more at ease, knowing that the first contact was made. Usually any plan he was a part of crashed and burned the minute he stepped in.
When the grand finale ended and the applause came, Percy looked in the direction of the four men again. Then muttered a curse. "They're gone." Had they noticed them? No, that was unlikely. Even if they stood out slightly in their attire, the audience sat tightly packed together and the lighting made it difficult to make out faces. Besides, there was an easier target. A target who's current location was marked by a door with her name etched into it. "They're going after her. We need to get there fi-" He was interrupted by the bunny girl from earlier, holding an invitation. Percy took it and studied it with a frown. "This woman's really one for theatrics, isn't she?" He commented, handing the piece of paper to Nerissa for her to study.
"Fine," that was more to himself, "let's get going then. Oh! Before I forget-" He stopped mid-turn, fishing the nefarious black wand out of his coat pocket. "you'll need this if we run into those four." He thrust it toward her. "And only if they attack first, you hear me? If." He rounded on her again a heartbeat later. "And also no more than necessary. We don't exactly have a license to kill here. Or grievously mutilate them." He sincerely hoped she understood.
"Thrilling isn't the word I'd use for it." He said flatly. "I knew a witch who had enchanted her doorway. Anyone who stepped through was greeted by small fireworks. It'd surprise you how many burnt their eyebrows because of that one."[/COLOR] Nerissa's comment on drinks made him raise an eyebrow. "What, you don't like wine?" He asked. "What do you think we drank before our worlds were separated? The likes of Medea, Solomon, or the Queen of Sheba drank back in the day?" Percy sniffed. "It certainly wasn't butterbeer, I'll assure you that."
It took him a while to attract the waiter's attention, but when he finally got it, he ordered something faintly reminiscent of a Pinot. Watered down, and with the price jacked up. Exactly what he had expected from the establishment. His attempt to complain, however, was drowned by the crowd's applause. The woman in the bunny costume didn't wait for it to die down. She began announcing the main act immediately. Halfway through, Percy shot a questionable look at Nerissa. "Harlot of Vegas?" He whispered incredulously. Was this really who the American agency had paired them up with?
He jerked his head back to the stage when her announcement was cut-off. He grasped for his wand in reflex, only to see the anvil drop on the woman. Had it not been for how calm the personnel handing out menu cards were, he would've tried to intervene. Percy eyed the stage with a puzzled look. "She seems to have a morbid sense of humor." smoke burst from the anvil and the blaring of trumpets filled the hall. "I'm sure the two of you will get along." He muttered, reluctantly clapping along with the crowd. He came to realize that it was the backbone of her act too, when she produced a pistol.
And it didn't take her long to fire it.
Percy jumped, more so from the sudden cries of the audience than the sound of the revolver. Her firing the revolver, well, that much he had expected. The second she placed it against her temple, however, he had to stop himself from uttering a shield charm.
"I'm convinced that this woman is as mad as they get." He said, following with a delayed "No offense."
It took him a while to attract the waiter's attention, but when he finally got it, he ordered something faintly reminiscent of a Pinot. Watered down, and with the price jacked up. Exactly what he had expected from the establishment. His attempt to complain, however, was drowned by the crowd's applause. The woman in the bunny costume didn't wait for it to die down. She began announcing the main act immediately. Halfway through, Percy shot a questionable look at Nerissa. "Harlot of Vegas?" He whispered incredulously. Was this really who the American agency had paired them up with?
He jerked his head back to the stage when her announcement was cut-off. He grasped for his wand in reflex, only to see the anvil drop on the woman. Had it not been for how calm the personnel handing out menu cards were, he would've tried to intervene. Percy eyed the stage with a puzzled look. "She seems to have a morbid sense of humor." smoke burst from the anvil and the blaring of trumpets filled the hall. "I'm sure the two of you will get along." He muttered, reluctantly clapping along with the crowd. He came to realize that it was the backbone of her act too, when she produced a pistol.
And it didn't take her long to fire it.
Percy jumped, more so from the sudden cries of the audience than the sound of the revolver. Her firing the revolver, well, that much he had expected. The second she placed it against her temple, however, he had to stop himself from uttering a shield charm.
"I'm convinced that this woman is as mad as they get." He said, following with a delayed "No offense."
The Auror led him through a maze of black-marble corridors, illuminated by torches with green flickering flames. Twice did the descend a set of stairs, and twice did they pass broad doors. Then, as they turned the corner, a deep shaft barred by a retractable iron fence came within sight. The elevator.
The auror caught a glimpse of his questioning look. "We're going to the Department of Magical Transportation. The Portkey we've arranged for you and that woman leads to Vegas." He paused. "Requires more paperwork, you see, to travel where muggles might discover you."
Percy nodded. "Happened to an associate of mine in Calais once. You'd think the police wouldn't be a trouble for a wizard. Apparently there's a limit to the amount of tasers a shield charm can deflect."
"Tasers?"
"It's a muggle thing their enforcers use to-" Percy sighed. "You know what, nevermind."
It was the Auror's turn to nod. They walked the remainder of the way in silence, until they arrived at the proper room. The Auror pushed the door open. "After you Mister Dumas." Percy mumbled a thanks and walked in.
Immediately his new 'partner' - or rather new liability - took her chance to comment. "A pleasure to meet you too, Miss Wyrmstone." He remarked begrudgingly. One of the Aurors stepped forward, handing him the sinister-looking wand that belonged to Nerissa. He ignored her second comment, instead turning to the Auror closest to the Portkey. "Is there anything I need to know about our destination or mission?"
The Auror shook his head. "I'm afraid you know everything there is to know already." Percy's brow furrowed. "Once you're both ready, grab on to the port key and it will take you to Las Vegas where you will meet with Miss Abigail Thompson." Percy hesitated for a moment - it made the Aurors tense up. Then Nerissa took hold of the Portkey, which forced him to move too. Her life was intertwined with his. If her mistakes led to death, he'd die too. No, he couldn't let her go off alone. She found another opportunity to taunt the men before her. By the time Percy considered intervening, the Portkey activated.
Again colours swirled, and the screaming winds robbed him of his hearing.
A heartbeat later he found himself backed up against the wall of a way too cramped room, bumping his head against a low shelf as he tried to stand upright. He stood tightly pressed against Nerissa, and the Portkey had fallen into a bucket out his left, out of his reach. Summarize in one word, it was uncomfortable. He uneasily tried to shift closer to the door, but Nerissa pressed herself closer against him, an obstacle between him and the door. Instinctively his hand went to her wand - safely hidden in the inner pocket of his brown trench coat.
Then she began with sensual whispers. "Oh, Percy, we find ourselves in such a deliciously tight situation, don't we? I wonder, would you like to be one of my conquests? To taste the forbidden fruit and revel in the thrill of surrender?" Her eyes gleamed. Percy's looked to be weighing.
"Listen, Miss Wyrmstone." His right arm moved along her waist. "You're a gorgeous woman. That you really are." His arm stopped moving as he reached the small of her back. "But you're also a lunatic and a convicted murderer. That's an incredible turnoff." He finally found the door's lock behind her. Before she could respond Percy muttered "Alohamora" and the door swung open. He kept his arm wrapped around her as he prepared to step through, making sure that she would tumble backward with the door opening behind her. When he was certain she had regained her balance, he took a firm hold by her arm instead and guided her through the corridor.
An elderly pair stood on the other side of the corridor, having watched the janitor's closet open and the man and woman coming through. It didn't take a strong legilimens to tell what they were thinking. Yet all he heard as he strode away was "Oh my."
He stopped a few times to ask if anyone knew someone named 'Abigail Thompson'. The third time, a young man with a badge remarked "Abigail? You mean Topsy?" which made the search a whole lot easier.
In less than ten minutes, they found themselves two seats positioned toward a stage with red curtains. He rested his head on his balled fist, elbow supported by the round table covered with a white tablecloth between them. "You think she's going to be using actual magic?" He asked absently, forgetting for a moment that Nerissa wasn't the kind of person he wanted to have a casual conversation with. "If we're going to have to wait any longer, I'm going to order something to drink."
The auror caught a glimpse of his questioning look. "We're going to the Department of Magical Transportation. The Portkey we've arranged for you and that woman leads to Vegas." He paused. "Requires more paperwork, you see, to travel where muggles might discover you."
Percy nodded. "Happened to an associate of mine in Calais once. You'd think the police wouldn't be a trouble for a wizard. Apparently there's a limit to the amount of tasers a shield charm can deflect."
"Tasers?"
"It's a muggle thing their enforcers use to-" Percy sighed. "You know what, nevermind."
It was the Auror's turn to nod. They walked the remainder of the way in silence, until they arrived at the proper room. The Auror pushed the door open. "After you Mister Dumas." Percy mumbled a thanks and walked in.
Immediately his new 'partner' - or rather new liability - took her chance to comment. "A pleasure to meet you too, Miss Wyrmstone." He remarked begrudgingly. One of the Aurors stepped forward, handing him the sinister-looking wand that belonged to Nerissa. He ignored her second comment, instead turning to the Auror closest to the Portkey. "Is there anything I need to know about our destination or mission?"
The Auror shook his head. "I'm afraid you know everything there is to know already." Percy's brow furrowed. "Once you're both ready, grab on to the port key and it will take you to Las Vegas where you will meet with Miss Abigail Thompson." Percy hesitated for a moment - it made the Aurors tense up. Then Nerissa took hold of the Portkey, which forced him to move too. Her life was intertwined with his. If her mistakes led to death, he'd die too. No, he couldn't let her go off alone. She found another opportunity to taunt the men before her. By the time Percy considered intervening, the Portkey activated.
Again colours swirled, and the screaming winds robbed him of his hearing.
A heartbeat later he found himself backed up against the wall of a way too cramped room, bumping his head against a low shelf as he tried to stand upright. He stood tightly pressed against Nerissa, and the Portkey had fallen into a bucket out his left, out of his reach. Summarize in one word, it was uncomfortable. He uneasily tried to shift closer to the door, but Nerissa pressed herself closer against him, an obstacle between him and the door. Instinctively his hand went to her wand - safely hidden in the inner pocket of his brown trench coat.
Then she began with sensual whispers. "Oh, Percy, we find ourselves in such a deliciously tight situation, don't we? I wonder, would you like to be one of my conquests? To taste the forbidden fruit and revel in the thrill of surrender?" Her eyes gleamed. Percy's looked to be weighing.
"Listen, Miss Wyrmstone." His right arm moved along her waist. "You're a gorgeous woman. That you really are." His arm stopped moving as he reached the small of her back. "But you're also a lunatic and a convicted murderer. That's an incredible turnoff." He finally found the door's lock behind her. Before she could respond Percy muttered "Alohamora" and the door swung open. He kept his arm wrapped around her as he prepared to step through, making sure that she would tumble backward with the door opening behind her. When he was certain she had regained her balance, he took a firm hold by her arm instead and guided her through the corridor.
An elderly pair stood on the other side of the corridor, having watched the janitor's closet open and the man and woman coming through. It didn't take a strong legilimens to tell what they were thinking. Yet all he heard as he strode away was "Oh my."
He stopped a few times to ask if anyone knew someone named 'Abigail Thompson'. The third time, a young man with a badge remarked "Abigail? You mean Topsy?" which made the search a whole lot easier.
In less than ten minutes, they found themselves two seats positioned toward a stage with red curtains. He rested his head on his balled fist, elbow supported by the round table covered with a white tablecloth between them. "You think she's going to be using actual magic?" He asked absently, forgetting for a moment that Nerissa wasn't the kind of person he wanted to have a casual conversation with. "If we're going to have to wait any longer, I'm going to order something to drink."
Now that- that was simply unfair!
Why would he have to pay with his life for her mistakes? He could understand a promise of protection from harm. This, however, was nothing even remotely close to reasonable. Not at all.
He said nothing while the witch's eyes eagerly scoured his for answers, and felt a slight twinge of pain as her nails buried in his arm. Her grip was tight, a sign he took for desperation - or madness, perhaps. But he had already made up his mind. There was no reason to throw his life in the balance, not to save her skin.
Yet in the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of a smile that made his resolution waver. Killian Moncreiffe. Of course they brought you here. Percy clenched his jaw and his grip on the witch grew stronger. Anger welled up inside of him. If Killian was here, agreeing to the unbreakable vow wasn't his decision to make. He cursed himself for not having noticed sooner.
"I will…" He uttered.
And with that, let go. The magical constraints snapped into place immediately - forming an ever-present magical knot in the back of his mind. It strongly compelled him to do his duty, for the alternative was death.
With the promise that transport to the United States would be arranged, the Wizengamot rose and left their high benches from the back. Several people on the lower benches began to move toward the exit as well, save for a couple. Percy faintly heard the Aurors address Nerissa as they prepared to lead her away - telling her it was time to pack her things- as he turned toward Killian.
The man stared at him. The smile never fading.
"Why are you here mon frère?" Percy bit, voice low as a whisper.
Killian shrugged. "I suppose they weren't convinced of your good nature." Percy knew he meant compliance instead. "Besides, if you fail, this collective is likely to request my aid instead." He continued casually as he rose from his seat. "Best to be involved from the beginning, rather than require a briefing later don't you think?"
Percy sniffed. "How professional of you." That was all Killian ever claimed to be. 'Professional.' Yet he had never been able to prove him wrong on that regard. Killian was his age, a man with long reddish-brown hair in a ponytail and a profound jawline. His green eyes were always confident and challenging, making any of his playful smiles taunting.
But any wizard who'd let themselves get provoked by it quickly learnt that it wasn't just a charade.
Killian was the best duelist Percy had ever met. He was an infamous bounty hunter, one of the few who had refused to become a snatcher in the Second Wizarding War. In recent years, Killian had even resurrected the ancient and notorious Silver spears, with himself as their head. Twice has had encountered the man, and twice had he lost. No, as far as dueling was concerned, Killian Moncreiffe reigned supreme.
Percy didn't doubt the Ministries had brought him here solely because he had a proven record against him. The six Aurors present would've easily been able to subdue him too, but his exceeding reputation was enough to spark doubt among the members of the Wizengamot.
"All this aside," Killian began "I heard you were the one who put an end to Lévêque's carnage." The smile became a grin. "Shame I wasn't in Paris. I've always wondered what it was like to fight a two-century old witch."
"It was sheer luck. I wouldn't have survived, had she not lost control of her fiendfyre spell." The memories sent shivers down his spine. "Only my strongest shield charms were enough to deflect her spellwork, and even those made me blister" Fighting her had been terrifying. "Killian…" Percy gave him a thoughtful look. "Do you have any idea what I'm going up against?" He was an alchemist - he lacked the kind of information network Killian had.
Killian rubbed his chin and sighed. "Not much. The one you're after is, as you know, the older brother of Nerissa here. He's a Wyrmstone too, and their family is notorious for their ties to dark magic, but no one has ever been able to prove it. They are, or were, puppeteers. People who tried to control the wizarding world from the shadows." He scratched the back of his head. "But they disappeared shortly after the Second Wizarding War. Nerissa's capture was an unexpected windfall. I didn't realize it was her until I had my wand against her throat." He admitted with a short chuckle. "Her brother's whereabouts however? Those were a mystery until last Thursday's supper." He paused. "The United States. Near Vegas, of all places. That he revealed himself doesn't bode well, that much I can tell you."
Percy nodded. "Thank you. That was really helpful."
A cough drew their attention. It was the older Auror. "Mister Dumas. We've arranged a portkey for you. The prisoner is waiting."
He nodded. "I'll be right behind you.
@Algarus @Posh Raven
Why would he have to pay with his life for her mistakes? He could understand a promise of protection from harm. This, however, was nothing even remotely close to reasonable. Not at all.
He said nothing while the witch's eyes eagerly scoured his for answers, and felt a slight twinge of pain as her nails buried in his arm. Her grip was tight, a sign he took for desperation - or madness, perhaps. But he had already made up his mind. There was no reason to throw his life in the balance, not to save her skin.
Yet in the corner of his eye, he caught the glimpse of a smile that made his resolution waver. Killian Moncreiffe. Of course they brought you here. Percy clenched his jaw and his grip on the witch grew stronger. Anger welled up inside of him. If Killian was here, agreeing to the unbreakable vow wasn't his decision to make. He cursed himself for not having noticed sooner.
"I will…" He uttered.
And with that, let go. The magical constraints snapped into place immediately - forming an ever-present magical knot in the back of his mind. It strongly compelled him to do his duty, for the alternative was death.
With the promise that transport to the United States would be arranged, the Wizengamot rose and left their high benches from the back. Several people on the lower benches began to move toward the exit as well, save for a couple. Percy faintly heard the Aurors address Nerissa as they prepared to lead her away - telling her it was time to pack her things- as he turned toward Killian.
The man stared at him. The smile never fading.
"Why are you here mon frère?" Percy bit, voice low as a whisper.
Killian shrugged. "I suppose they weren't convinced of your good nature." Percy knew he meant compliance instead. "Besides, if you fail, this collective is likely to request my aid instead." He continued casually as he rose from his seat. "Best to be involved from the beginning, rather than require a briefing later don't you think?"
Percy sniffed. "How professional of you." That was all Killian ever claimed to be. 'Professional.' Yet he had never been able to prove him wrong on that regard. Killian was his age, a man with long reddish-brown hair in a ponytail and a profound jawline. His green eyes were always confident and challenging, making any of his playful smiles taunting.
But any wizard who'd let themselves get provoked by it quickly learnt that it wasn't just a charade.
Killian was the best duelist Percy had ever met. He was an infamous bounty hunter, one of the few who had refused to become a snatcher in the Second Wizarding War. In recent years, Killian had even resurrected the ancient and notorious Silver spears, with himself as their head. Twice has had encountered the man, and twice had he lost. No, as far as dueling was concerned, Killian Moncreiffe reigned supreme.
Percy didn't doubt the Ministries had brought him here solely because he had a proven record against him. The six Aurors present would've easily been able to subdue him too, but his exceeding reputation was enough to spark doubt among the members of the Wizengamot.
"All this aside," Killian began "I heard you were the one who put an end to Lévêque's carnage." The smile became a grin. "Shame I wasn't in Paris. I've always wondered what it was like to fight a two-century old witch."
"It was sheer luck. I wouldn't have survived, had she not lost control of her fiendfyre spell." The memories sent shivers down his spine. "Only my strongest shield charms were enough to deflect her spellwork, and even those made me blister" Fighting her had been terrifying. "Killian…" Percy gave him a thoughtful look. "Do you have any idea what I'm going up against?" He was an alchemist - he lacked the kind of information network Killian had.
Killian rubbed his chin and sighed. "Not much. The one you're after is, as you know, the older brother of Nerissa here. He's a Wyrmstone too, and their family is notorious for their ties to dark magic, but no one has ever been able to prove it. They are, or were, puppeteers. People who tried to control the wizarding world from the shadows." He scratched the back of his head. "But they disappeared shortly after the Second Wizarding War. Nerissa's capture was an unexpected windfall. I didn't realize it was her until I had my wand against her throat." He admitted with a short chuckle. "Her brother's whereabouts however? Those were a mystery until last Thursday's supper." He paused. "The United States. Near Vegas, of all places. That he revealed himself doesn't bode well, that much I can tell you."
Percy nodded. "Thank you. That was really helpful."
A cough drew their attention. It was the older Auror. "Mister Dumas. We've arranged a portkey for you. The prisoner is waiting."
He nodded. "I'll be right behind you.
@Algarus @Posh Raven
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