Nib

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

@Master Bruce I will try to get something up soon. No promises though, as I had to take my girlfriend's brother to his appointment today and will have to drive him home (about an hour from me) later on. I'll try to start on something today and work on and hopefully post it Friday when I'm off work next.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

@Lord Wraith thank you for the nomination. Means a lot.

I am also guilty of being way behind on the IC (and OOC), but I'm making my way through it.

Phosphoros

The river trickled off to his left, flowing its way onward as it always had and always would until an outside force acted upon it. He had to be like the river and continue moving forward despite what he had done. Why had he done it though? Why had he killed the other Hands? How did that old man break through the careful yet sturdy walls the Leader had erected in his mind? It was though he had hypnotized and entranced Hakim during that fateful meeting. The chain dangled from his fingers, decorated with a symbol of each god worshipped across the Cradle. With a growl, he threw the chain from him suddenly. It arced into the air and caught a ray of sunlight before tumbling into the dirt on the embankment. The soft earth beneath slid away, and it tumbled down the bank toward the flowing river. Hakim shot his bandage-wrapped hand out and caught the chain before it touched the water, and with a sigh placed it back around his neck. How ridiculous, snatching the necklace back after tossing it away. How did such a silly trinket have such a sway on him?

Shaking his head, Hakim moved onward. He was still in the heart of Silesia but had managed to cover a fair amount of ground away from his tribe. In that time, his crimes may still not have been discovered. It may be some time yet before the Leader knew he had lost five Hands from his service. For the time being, he followed the rivers away from his home. No, not from his home. He had no home. The place he fled was a prison; a prison he never really knew he was in. These strange thoughts persisted through his journey, but the swords at his waist were a comforting weight. As he traveled, he saw the beauty his country had to offer. Great vegetation growing along the plentiful rivers and the people cultivating such greatness. At times, he would have to either cross the river or divert his path to wrap around it. These obstacles slowed his speed but didn’t impede him too much.

Days laters, Hakim found himself snaking along a winding river on the edge of Silesia and branching off from it to make his way around another that ran a ways to the east. He followed toward the east for days. It was during this leg of his travel that he ran into another obstacle. Along a lonely road, he glanced a figure in the distance. As he neared, he noticed other figures flanking it. They shuffled and moved to meet him in the road, spanning across the dirt path so as to block his way. They carried curved swords and kept their faces obscured behind head wraps much like Hakim. From behind the three blocking the way, he heard brush rustling and turned to see another holding a shortbow with an arrow nocked and aimed toward him. He stopped in his tracks a few feet from them and could now see the two women. One looked to be in her middle years, and the other looked as though she were barely old enough to birth children. Near them, on the side of the path, lay the body of a man with his throat cut open and spilling red all across the dirt. His face still showed his last moments of horror.

Without a word, the three surged forward, no doubt eager for another kill and to eliminate any witness to their crime. As they moved, their archer let loose, and an arrow flew over their heads straight at Hakim. He dropped his satchel and bedroll to the ground as he moved to the side and out of the way of the arrow. In the same movement, his swords were free, and he was rushing forward. One sword was shorter than the other, but both blades were curved and thin. The thinner was held in his offhand in a reverse grip. This was used to block the first blow from the highwaymen and push it from him and he spun around the blow of another. They continued to swing their blades, but their attacks only struck open air as Hakim spun amongst them and eventually positioned himself between them and the women. The wraps up his right arm fell away as he came to a stop; apparently one of the blades had just barely caught the wraps. As it fell away, his attackers saw the intricate tattoos covering his right hand, and their eyes grew wide with shock. They knew what the markings meant and just who, or rather what, they were dealing with. The bandits looked hesitant now, on the verge of dropping their blades, but it was too late now. The archer had waited for a clear shot and let loose with another arrow, having not seen the tattoo.

In a surge, Hakim launched himself at the bandits, out stripping the arrow with his speed. The arrow struck the dirt behind his foot as he moved. In a flurry, he spun amongst the bandits again, but this time he was on the attack. His blades bit into flesh and cut deep, staining the dirt beneath the bandits as well as their clothing red. Each of the three fell with multiple slash across their chest and neck, leaving only the archer. Blood pooled at his feet and dripped from the tips of both his blades as he turned to face the remaining bandit. His hands shook as he pulled the bow up again and nocked an arrow with difficulty before letting it fly. Hakim knocked it from the air with his shorter sword easily before moving into the brush in a burst of speed. Another arrow flew at him, but he avoided it and closed the gap before another could be fired. In a flash, Hakim brought the longer sword down across the archer’s chest and left a deep gash in its wake.

The women watched as one by one the bandits all fell to this stranger’s blade and as he bent over the archer’s body for a moment before turning and walking toward them.

”Take what you can and move on from this place.”

That was all he said before moving onward down the path and away from them.

___________

He had lost track of time along the way, but he had finally rounded the river some days ago. Until now, he had done what he could to avoid major settlements, but he was outside of Silesia. Between that and his noticeably dwindling supplies, Hakim decided to make his way into a settlement. This town, however, was an unfortunate choice, as it was only a short distance from a mounting skirmish between Mennon and Kothar soldiers. Men fought and died, each one fighting for their homeland and each believing they fought for what was right and were killing enemies of that right. The town itself was mostly deserted. Each building he passed appeared empty, but as he ventured deeper he came across a small gathering of people. An elderly man sat before them with his remaining arm. He spoke of a sorcerer seeking out keys to unlock the power of the ancients.

Hakim stopped and listened, leaning into a nearby wall and found himself agreeing the Baccumese man’s idea. If this sorcerer needed all of the keys, why could they not simply destroy one of them? Though, when the old man handed the gem over and challenged the man to destroy it, he could see it would not be so simple. If it couldn’t be destroyed then couldn’t they at least hide one of these gems away and protect it from the sorcerer? How quickly Hakim had found himself wrapped up in this plot after having just wandered into their midst. He caught himself toying with the chain around his neck. What strange circumstances and strange company he had already found himself in after leaving Silesia behind. He glanced around the gathering, taking in the three barely clad Baccumese, the Roshad female toting her own weapon, the scarred Kothar man, and the older Mennon sitting at the back of the group. He drew Hakim’s attention currently as he watched his hand disappear up his sleeve. His own hand found the hilt of his longer sword out of instinct.

Phosphoros

Character Sheet

Hakim

---

Sex: Male

Place of Origin: Silesia

Appearance: Hakim is an olive-skinned man standing at five feet and nine inches. He is a wiry man with toned muscles hidden beneath his layers of simple garb designed for travel. As such, he is easily dismissed and underestimated. Bandages wrapped up to his forearms cover an intricate tattoo across his right hand. He has a collection of scars across his arms, torso, and some even on his face from his years of training. Hakim’s face has sharp, hawkish features with a nose to match. He can usually be seen with a layer of dark stubble across his cheeks and jawline. Thick dark eyebrows rest over a pair of bright golden eyes with an unnerving feeling they are looking right through you. To stave off the sun, Hakim is known to obscure his features with a set of wraps. Beneath these wraps, his dark hair falls just short of his shoulders in a mess of curls.

Psyche: At his core, Hakim is a simple man. He was once content to sit idle and be someone’s blade, but he has recently broken away from that life and struggles to see himself as more than just a tool. He has been described as harsh and quiet. He is rarely known to speak, and when he does it is simplistic, blunt ideas that he shares. Philosophy and scholarship are completely foreign ideas to him, and one time he thought them to be things that only further complicated matters at hand. Recently, however, he has been shown how valuable they can be, and he struggles too with trying to learn new ideas.

Skills: Through years of training, Hakim has developed a range of abilities. He has become a near-master swordsman in the use of the two swords strapped to his waist. Though he is not a master by any means, Hakim is able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. Hakim is able to move about unseen and unheard when necessary. When fighting, he relies more upon his agility and chooses to forgo wearing heavier armor.

Equipment: Hakim’s main pieces of equipment are his swords with their long, curved blades fastened to his belt. Other than his weapons, Hakim carries simple travel rations, spare clothing, tools to care for his blades, and simple medicinal supplies all in a leather satchel slung over his shoulder with a bedroll made of horsehide strapped over it.

Bio: From an early age, Hakim’s life was rife with hardships; both parents died when he was barely seven years of age. After their deaths, he was left to fend for himself. To survive, he became like a feral animal, shrinking away from people and stealing scraps whenever he could, from whoever he could. Hakim became no stranger to beatings, and he went without food more than a few times. Many times while living on the streets Hakim was forced to fight others living like him. All the hardships of the street taught him to trust no one and do whatever he had to in order to survive. For years, he struggled and fought to survive until he and other children from the street were rounded up by the tribe leader’s men and were taken to a space of newly constructed barracks. The leader himself met them there and told them they would have a home and be fed, but they would have to earn it. For that first night they were all permitted to eat and sleep in the assemblage of tents erected for them. The beds and food provided were comfortable and feeling, but still the gathered children were on edge; they either broke off into groups of familiar faces or by themselves.

After that first night, the tribe leader returned with his man and showed the children how they would earn their food and bed. From then on, the leader’s men subjected the children to harsh training to mold them into blades for the leader’s use. Their training began with running them ragged with laboring tasks. The training slowly moved into training the children to fight with their hands against armed opponents. The division amongst the children grew as the training wore on, with several groups of the children attempting to gain power and influence over the others. This resulted in several fights, which the soldiers in charge of training did nothing to quell. They encouraged this behavior for a time, but eventually as the training grew more harsh and the soldiers began actually breaking the children down they began to punish any sort of disobedience severely. To further break the children, they began pitting them against one another and would force them even to go so far as to kill one another.

By the end of their training, the children had been broken down to the point of thinking of themselves as blades to be pointed. To show this, each was marked by an intricate tattoo, resembling a henna, across their right hand. For years, Hakim worked as one of these marked assassins for his tribe leader. He was as close to feeling content in this life as one could be after enduring what he did. He carried out his orders and silenced those who needed to be silenced, until he was sent to end the life of an elderly philosopher who spoke out against the tribe leader. Hakim paid him a visit under the cloak of night and found he was also a religious radical and adhered to ideals both of Ill’llii as well as other gods worshipped and spoken about throughout the Cradle. This alone was grounds to kill the man upon, especially on top of how outspoken he was against the tribe leader. Something stayed Hakim’s blade though, some strange sense of curiosity for the first time in a long time. Instead, he spoke with the man, and he told Hakim of other gods and philosophies and theories of how everything could traced back with a small singular strand of familiarity and of how much bigger a place the world was than their tribe’s home and even the Cradle.

Though the ideas largely flew over his head, he was fascinated and wanted to see more than what he had been told and led to believe. He returned to his leader and told him the radical had fled and was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, the leader was not a man to be tested ot to let grudges go easily. He sent Hakim and several other Hands to hunt this man on the road. Being trained as they were, they quickly caught up to him. When they moved in for the kill something in Hakim snapped, and before he fully realized what he was doing his blades were drawn and slashing through two of the four sent with him. The remaining did not fall as easily, and before he could dispose of them both they had managed to deliver a fatal wound to the radical. Injured himself, Hakim held the man as he died. His departing wisdom was to tell Hakim to travel, to learn, and hopefully to come to think of himself as more than a weapon to be used by another. As he breathed his last, he gifted Hakim a chain decorated with the symbols of gods worshipped all over the Cradle. Taking what he could from the dead around him, Hakim left his old life behind and struck out on the road.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

@Sep I'm also enjoying FemFlash. I had just finished reading a Superman post before hopping over here. I'm game for meet ups. Maybe someone can meet the X-Force after they handle that storm.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Slowly catching up on IC events. Really digging the Superman stuff, but I've always liked how Andy writes supes, which is saying something because I really have almost no interest in him normally. Also, every time I read Bounce's intro monologue I hear the Law & Order sound effect after I finish it.

Phosphoros

Character Sheet

Hakim

---

Sex: Male

Place of Origin: Silesia

Appearance: Hakim is an olive-skinned man standing at five feet and nine inches. He is a wiry man with toned muscles hidden beneath his layers of simple garb designed for travel. As such, he is easily dismissed and underestimated. Bandages wrapped up to his forearms cover an intricate tattoo across his right hand. He has a collection of scars across his arms, torso, and some even on his face from his years of training. Hakim’s face has sharp, hawkish features with a nose to match. He can usually be seen with a layer of dark stubble across his cheeks and jawline. Thick dark eyebrows rest over a pair of bright golden eyes with an unnerving feeling they are looking right through you. To stave off the sun, Hakim is known to obscure his features with a set of wraps. Beneath these wraps, his dark hair falls just short of his shoulders in a mess of curls.

Psyche: At his core, Hakim is a simple man. He was once content to sit idle and be someone’s blade, but he has recently broken away from that life and struggles to see himself as more than just a tool. He has been described as harsh and quiet. He is rarely known to speak, and when he does it is simplistic, blunt ideas that he shares. Philosophy and scholarship are completely foreign ideas to him, and one time he thought them to be things that only further complicated matters at hand. Recently, however, he has been shown how valuable they can be, and he struggles too with trying to learn new ideas.

Skills: Through years of training, Hakim has developed a range of abilities. He has become a near-master swordsman in the use of the two swords strapped to his waist. Though he is not a master by any means, Hakim is able to hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. Hakim is able to move about unseen and unheard when necessary. When fighting, he relies more upon his agility and chooses to forgo wearing heavier armor.

Equipment: Hakim’s main pieces of equipment are his swords with their long, curved blades fastened to his belt. Other than his weapons, Hakim carries simple travel rations, spare clothing, tools to care for his blades, and simple medicinal supplies all in a leather satchel slung over his shoulder with a bedroll made of horsehide strapped over it.

Bio: From an early age, Hakim’s life was rife with hardships; both parents died when he was barely seven years of age. After their deaths, he was left to fend for himself. To survive, he became like a feral animal, shrinking away from people and stealing scraps whenever he could, from whoever he could. Hakim became no stranger to beatings, and he went without food more than a few times. Many times while living on the streets Hakim was forced to fight others living like him. All the hardships of the street taught him to trust no one and do whatever he had to in order to survive. For years, he struggled and fought to survive until he and other children from the street were rounded up by the tribe leader’s men and were taken to a space of newly constructed barracks. The leader himself met them there and told them they would have a home and be fed, but they would have to earn it. For that first night they were all permitted to eat and sleep in the assemblage of tents erected for them. The beds and food provided were comfortable and feeling, but still the gathered children were on edge; they either broke off into groups of familiar faces or by themselves.

After that first night, the tribe leader returned with his man and showed the children how they would earn their food and bed. From then on, the leader’s men subjected the children to harsh training to mold them into blades for the leader’s use. Their training began with running them ragged with laboring tasks. The training slowly moved into training the children to fight with their hands against armed opponents. The division amongst the children grew as the training wore on, with several groups of the children attempting to gain power and influence over the others. This resulted in several fights, which the soldiers in charge of training did nothing to quell. They encouraged this behavior for a time, but eventually as the training grew more harsh and the soldiers began actually breaking the children down they began to punish any sort of disobedience severely. To further break the children, they began pitting them against one another and would force them even to go so far as to kill one another.

By the end of their training, the children had been broken down to the point of thinking of themselves as blades to be pointed. To show this, each was marked by an intricate tattoo, resembling a henna, across their right hand. For years, Hakim worked as one of these marked assassins for his tribe leader. He was as close to feeling content in this life as one could be after enduring what he did. He carried out his orders and silenced those who needed to be silenced, until he was sent to end the life of an elderly philosopher who spoke out against the tribe leader. Hakim paid him a visit under the cloak of night and found he was also a religious radical and adhered to ideals both of Ill’llii as well as other gods worshipped and spoken about throughout the Cradle. This alone was grounds to kill the man upon, especially on top of how outspoken he was against the tribe leader. Something stayed Hakim’s blade though, some strange sense of curiosity for the first time in a long time. Instead, he spoke with the man, and he told Hakim of other gods and philosophies and theories of how everything could traced back with a small singular strand of familiarity and of how much bigger a place the world was than their tribe’s home and even the Cradle.

Though the ideas largely flew over his head, he was fascinated and wanted to see more than what he had been told and led to believe. He returned to his leader and told him the radical had fled and was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, the leader was not a man to be tested ot to let grudges go easily. He sent Hakim and several other Hands to hunt this man on the road. Being trained as they were, they quickly caught up to him. When they moved in for the kill something in Hakim snapped, and before he fully realized what he was doing his blades were drawn and slashing through two of the four sent with him. The remaining did not fall as easily, and before he could dispose of them both they had managed to deliver a fatal wound to the radical. Injured himself, Hakim held the man as he died. His departing wisdom was to tell Hakim to travel, to learn, and hopefully to come to think of himself as more than a weapon to be used by another. As he breathed his last, he gifted Hakim a chain decorated with the symbols of gods worshipped all over the Cradle. Taking what he could from the dead around him, Hakim left his old life behind and struck out on the road.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Got a post I'm kinda happy with up.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Danny was special. There was nothing else like him in this crazy world. He wasn’t a mutant or a metahuman or whatever else the media was calling the people with powers now. He wasn’t even human. Danny was a brick with a mind of his own; well he started out as a brick, and now he was a whole school with several secret floors underground to house the growth of mutants and metahumans in need. No one, not even him, knew how he came about. The Professor had found him one day years ago when he was looking for a location to build his school. He hadn’t expected to find Danny or have his school built in less than a day. Thanks to Danny’s ability to construct buildings around the singular brick he called his main brick, though, the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children was built ahead of schedule and was soon occupied. It was a strange sensation to have people living inside of you, to say the least, but Danny had gotten used to it. So used to it that he was able to notice an extra pair of footsteps on the drive by the gate.

---------

Deep below the school proper through a secret entrance in Professor Xavier’s office rested Cerebro: a device designed by Hank McCoy and Xavier to significantly increase his telepathic powers and help him to find mutants and metahumans alike. Having this technology would aid them in their goal, but it came with the risk of falling into the hands of people aiming to do harm. In the underground chamber housing the device, Xavier sat with the headset uplink strapped around his head, Max and Hank standing just behind him. Before the trio a holographic globe hung in midair, dotted all over with yellow, blue, and white dots.

”Filter out the non-mutated and powered humans.”

At Max’s prompting and with a mental push from Xavier, the blue dots across the globe vanished.

”Amazing. How are you able to track the metahumans without mutations?”

”Charles actually came across it. Cerebro allows him to expand his powers out and find those with mutations such as ourselves and filter out baseline humans. In filtering out baseline humans, Cerebro wipes those without any sort of alteration to their DNA off the map, but metahumans aren’t quite baseline and are somehow exempted from the filtering system.”

”Impressive. What are the red dots mixed in amongst all this?”

”Hank and I believe they are non-humans. Look here,” at his words the globe zoomed into the United States, where several of the red dots were located, ”After filtering out baseline humans not exhibiting mutations, the metahumans still show on the map because of not counting as base humans any longer. Cerebro picks them up as having something off with their genealogy but without a mutation. These red dots appears after all of this, but Cerebro doesn’t even pick them up as human. Look where they’re located.”

”Ah… Metropolis and Gateway City. The Superman and Wonder Woman on the news?”

”Precisely.”

”Interesting…” Max trailed off as he looked at Charles for the first time in the midst of his excited questioning, ”Charles. You look terrible. I’ve told you, it’s too much of a strain on your abilities and health. You have to train Jean to use Cerebro herself.”

”I’m inclined to agree with him, Charles. You’re capable and brilliant, but with your health in such a poor state and with you focusing the majority of your powers on dampening Jean’s telepathic abilities using Cerebro can be too much of a strain on you. I was hoping the headband I constructed for Jean would let you focus less on the dampening process with it doing part of the job for you.”

In that moment Charles looked defeated as he slumped slightly in his chair and set the Cerebro headset back on the console. He rubbed his eyes for a long moment before he spoke.

”You’re both right of course. I will increase the frequency of Jean’s private lessons to control her powers and begin training her to use Cerebro.”

Max reached a hand down and gripped Charles’ shoulder for a moment. It as getting more and more difficult to see his friend look so diminutive.

”Uh… fellas. There’s someone at the gate. Someone I don’t recognize.”

At Danny’s words Charles placed the headset back on his head and zoomed further in on the United States to pinpoint the school. Even without filtering out base humans, no one appeared at the gate.

”Raven…”

Max had pulled up the security camera footage on a nearby console. There stood a redheaded woman with scaly blue skin adorned in a skin-tight sleeveless white top, ankle-length skirt, and long gloves that ran up past her elbows; her forehead and waist were adorned in small skulls. She stared straight at the camera, her eyes glowing a faint yellow and her mouth creased in a wicked grin. In the next moment before Charles or Hank could reply, the woman’s skin shifted, the scales turning and flipping until a blonde woman in an NYPD uniform stood in her place. She winked at the camera before turning and walking off. The three men stood in stunned silence for a long moment; none of them seemed able to speak.

---------

The explosion rocked the street as debris fell to the street below. People screamed and ran for their lives with their arms covering their heads. The pieces of the building and shattered glass lurched and slowed, some faintly outlined in yellow and other pieces in pink. A silver blur flew under the falling debris and snatched up several individuals. As the last of the pedestrians disappeared into the silver blur, the debris fell to the ground. Pietro skidded to a halt at the end of the street with the little girl in his arms. He set her down and turned back toward the now-in-flames building.

”The people outside are safe. We need to get into that building. Beast Boy, Terra, Jubilee make your way up through the hole the explosion tore into the side. Cyclops and Je - Miss Marvel, you’re with me through the ground floor. Move!”

As the words left his mouth, Quicksilver took off toward the burning building, becoming a blur of silver once more. The rest of the team sprang into action. Beast Boy ran up onto a car and then launched himself into the air, shifting in midair into an eagle and flapping up toward the opening surrounded in fire. Terra reached out with her powers and ripped a hefty chunk of earth free from the pavement and used it to shuttle herself and Jubilee up after Beast Boy. Still concentrating on the circle of earth under her, Terra reached out and ripped a small patch of earth from it and moved it toward the fire in the opening and began crumbling it dirt. She moved the dirt around the opening and used it to douse the fire enough for the three of them to clamber through. Inside was chaos; they could eard distant and muffled cries for help, and most of the office floor was engulfed in flame. After she and Jubilee wre safely on the floor, Terra crumbled the remaining patch of earth and began dousing flames with a swarming cloud of dirt.

On the ground, Quicksilver zipped toward the front door. Seeing Quicksilver take off from the other end of the street, Cyclops took aim at the doorway and let loose a barrage of controlled eye blasts to clear the doorway. Flames shot out of the open building front and threatened to spread. Miss Marvel reached out with her mind and concentrated on the tongues of flames shooting out of the doorway and pushed. As Quicksilver neared the doorway, he watched this all in slow motion as the flames stopped from a moment and seemed to waver before moving to either side of the door to allow him passage inside. Still holding the flames at bay, Miss Marvel looked over to Scott.

”Go help Pietro get any survivors out. I’ll hold the flames back best I can.”

With a nod, Cyclops ran for the doorway and inside to help with the rescue.

---------

”Why would she reappear now?”

Charles, Hank, and Max sat in the observation deck situated between the conjoined training rooms as the simulation continued down below. It was a day of more tests for the field team to see how they performed in a simulated stressful environment. Charles sat in his floating chair near the window overlooking the team, and Max paced a bit as Hank watched the monitors as always.

”She’s taunting us. She knows the next move for us will be the field team,” as he spoke he gestured toward the window and the team, ”This is her way of telling us she knows and showing us she’s still out there planning God-knows-what. She’ll be less brazen then I was before.”

Hank listened to the two but was ultimately more focused on the monitors and gauging the team’s performance and how their suits were holding up after tweaking them since the last set of tests.

”We will need to be even more cautious then it would seem.”

Max was quiet for a moment, opening his mouth to reply and then shutting it before giving his friend a firm nod.

---------

The team sat before their three mentors in Professor Xavier’s office after running their rescue simulation. Their suits had held up, and the results were promising. They had managed to stay focused and collected during the simulation, though it was still a simulation and not the real thing. The three aged mutants were explaining to them the event concerning the rogue mutant, Mystique, and due to that coupled with much thinking on their end they had decided Max would be joining them in the field indefinitely. Pietro was the most affected by this news. His father was stepping on his toes, afraid to let the reigns loose, to let him prove himself a capable leader; though, he kept his thoughts to himself for the time being. The television set had long since become white noise in the background of the meeting until an alert came across the screen and pulled the attention of the whole gathering.

“... massive hurricane rapidly onto mainland of Florida. This phenomenon is unprecedented. Not only is it not the season we usually see such massive storms, but the storm itself only just appeared on radar minutes ago out of the blue just off the coast. Authorities say they’re doing what they can to evacuate as many people as possible, but with how close this surprise storm already is they have advised everyone to stay indoors and do all they can to whether this storm. More safety information can be found at the website appearing on the lower half of the screen - “

”This isn’t a natural storm. We have to go. We need to help those people.”

Max and Charles shared a look and then both turned to Hank.

”I would like to tweak their suits a bit more, but from the results of the tests we’ve already run they are performance-ready, as are they,” he gestured toward the field team with a blue-furred paw.

With a reluctance, Charles nodded to Max and his students.

”Very well. Suit up. Danny, please prepare to transport them where they need to be. Be careful, please,” though he spoke to the group as a whole, his eyes seemed to linger on Jean for just a fraction of a second more.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

My post is almost done. I have one more part to write for it. I will try to get to it tonight after work.