Ruby

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Retired>

I need a sad react.

Also, I apologize for holding up Roman in our collab. It's finally moving again and the delay is all me.

Its been quiet in the OOC. How's everyone doing?

@Bounce

Never better.

Heh.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

[01]................................[GENERAL OVERVIEW]
[02]......................................................[SETTING]

Yes. There's a Discord for the game. We don't mind if you don't join it and just communicate on the forum.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

01.general.overview

[01][dawn.of.x]................................[GENERAL OVERVIEW]

Charles Xavier and Magneto’s dreams have changed, aligning with a single vision: the formation of a mutant nation-state. And that dream is now realized...

Krakoa. It is the mutants' sentient homeland, an island Utopia that’s lush, alien, and completely without borders.

The ecosystem of Krakoa stores miraculous potential for both humanity and mutants. Its gateways are open to all mutants too, since Xavier and Magneto have allowed the likes of Apocalypse, Mister Sinister, Exodus, and Sebastian Shaw to join their ranks. And those alliances aren’t just diplomatic—mutantkind, all of it, is now committed to a single vision.

General RP Information

[*] This will be a hybrid MCU/comics timeline, with the rule of thumb that if the MCU didn’t cover it, defer to the comics history.
[*] This is a Marvel game. You are not restricted to mutants. You are not restricted to heroes.
[*] Speaking of restrictions…you are not restricted to canon characters. Krakoa has a large population; make up your own mutant. Pick an obscure mutant and re-imagine them. Create your own Marvel superhero.
[*] This is a sandbox game, with large events that you will be able to be part of or ignore. Likewise, bring your own stories and plots for others to bounce off of and interact with.
[*] Play entire teams, play multiple characters. We do not have a large number of players in mind for this. Join if you want to collaborate and build something for the long term.
[*] Game will be casual, accepting of both those who knows comics lore well, and those who've only seen some cartoons and MCU movies.

02.setting.overview

[02][dawn.of.x]................................[SETTING OVERVIEW]

As stated in the general overview, the setting will be a mix of MCU and comics. So long as you have some familiarity with the MCU, and don't mind doing some wiki reading on larger comic events, then you should be easily able to start making characters and stories for the setting without running into major roadblocks. Any questions or guidance needed the GMs are happy to answer and provide. Of course, should there be a character or event not covered by the MCU, so long as it doesn't conflict in major ways with setting continuinity the rule will be to defer to the comic books. This isn't a perfect solution, and there will be some holes to fill, but it should create a common foundation for players to begin collaborating without needing to be a 'well, actually...' level comicbook nerd.

Examples of large comic events that will factor into the game setting include House of M and Secret Wars (the recent one).

New York City and Krakoa will factor largely as IC locations, though given Krakoan gateway technology there's nowhere your characters and stories can't go. Much more information on Krakoa will be given in the OOC, so if you're unfamiliar don't worry, we will have you covered on a detailed level (everything from geography, defense, housing, to economy). In the meantime feel free to ask any question you might have, or do your own search—there's plenty of information out there.

2A.timeline.overview

[2A][dawn.of.x]................................[TIMELINE OVERVIEW]

MCU history; stopping at End Game/Phase 3.

House of M/Decimation (2005)
—Scarlet Witch uses her powers to create a world in which mutants are in charge. The world is a racist society, with mutants controlling governments, businesses, and culture; and humans are looked down on as inferior.
—"No more mutants." Scarlet Witch has stripped nearly all of the mutant population of their powers, thereby reducing a society of millions to one of scant hundreds.

Annihilation: Conquest (2007)
—In an effort to expand his empire, Annihilus leads an invasion army from the Negative Zone into the positive matter universe. He commands The Annihilation Wave, an immense armada of warships, bent on conquering the positive matter universe and adding its territory to his own. Galactus wipes out the majority of the Annihilation Wave, more than three star systems and even vaporizes a Watcher. Peter Quill and Nova manage to stop Annihilus on his flagship.

War of Kings (2009)
—Vulcan is rapidly expanding the Shi’ar Empire, while Black Bolt and the Inhumans become leaders of the Kree empire, and a cosmic war begins, drawing in Nova, Darkhawk, the Starjammers, and the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Avengers vs. X-Men (2012)
—The return of the Phoenix Force, the cosmic entity of death and rebirth, as it looks for its new host, believed to be the teenage mutant Hope Summers. Cyclops and the other X-Men want to protect her and prepare her as if she’s to be the mutant savior, while Captain America and the Avengers want her handed over to them so they can figure out what to do with her and keep the world safe from a potentially deadly fate. Tony Stark attempts to destroy the Phonie Force, leading to a five-way split of the cosmic entity with five different mutants as hosts. Cyclops ends up the last, and most powerful, of the hosts. He threatened greater conflict but would go on to stand down at the urging of an old friend.

Secret Wars (2015)
—As Doctor Doom, Doctor Strange, and Molecule Man confront the Beyonders in a last-ditch attempt to prevent the end of the Multiverse, the final Incursion of Earth-1610 and Earth-616 begins. Heroes from each universe confront one another. The world fades to white as the two Earths collide. Doctor Doom’s mask appears out of the white void, before the white turns to black. Battleworld and the Multiverse as Doom saw it were quickly broken down and reversed as Reed Richards recreates the multiverse.

House/Powers of X (2019)
—"While you slept, the world changed." With those words, Professor X announces to the people of Earth the new mutant nation of Krakoa. It is a safe haven for all Homo superior, with its own rules and its own language. In return for international recognition, Xavier will offer humanity great scientific advancements, borne of Krakoa's unique flora. But the time for integration has ended. Xavier's old dream is dead—and now a new one begins.

2B.mutants.overview

[2B][dawn.of.x]................................[MUTANTS OVERVIEW]

Mutantkind has found itself going in a wide multitude of directions. To Rogue and Wolverine turning into Avengers to Jean's resurrection that resulted in her leading the most recent incarnation of the X-Men, even the quiet parties such as Magneto and the White Queen have been pre-occupied with plots the last year or so.

Being a mutant either meant living in secret among family or loved ones, being a resident of what was then called 'Mutant Town' under the protection of Mister M, or being of the rare lucky ones with the mutant ability to be something more or just having the right connections still.

This has all changed radically over the last month with the announcement of Krakoa. Some may require a little time, others need to believe it before they'll try it, while many more rush to a mutant homeland promised by a coalition of the strongest mutants alive. From Xavier to Apocalypse, Magneto to Storm to Kate Pryde, all mutants seem stirred by the Krakoan announcement.

2C.krakoa.overview

[2C][dawn.of.x]................................[KRAKOA OVERVIEW]

Professor X ultimately repurposed Krakoa into a sovereign nation state for mutants. Now donning a portable Cerebro, Xavier seemingly recruited and experimented on Krakoa with the help of Cypher and Warlock. Together they expanded Krakoa's consciousness and cultivated its biome to include exotic flowers used for various purposes, as such becoming the primary economic resource of the mutant nation.

These Flowers of Krakoa could grow Habitats, self-sufficient offshoots of Krakoa that served as embassies around the solar system, while remaining connected to its hive mind via Gateways, which provided ways to instantly travel from one part of Krakoa to another. Krakoa grows it's own food, it's own shelter. The island has even been known to change overnight.

[2C][dawn.of.x]................................[KRAKOA DEFENSE]

Krakoan defenses aren’t as obvious as they may be on other nations, but there’s very much an active effort at all times to ensure Krakoan security and defense. Krakoan defense is overseen by the Krakoan Great Captains and the Quiet Council. Monitoring falls to Black Tom and Sage, albeit each with their own very different method.
The island has early detection in terms of underwater growth in all directions and varying depths around the island.

Pollen and fungal spores are used as an early detection network for the air of Krakoa, and actively reports dangers through the island’s nervous system. All gate activity is documented and overseen by Sage from Control. There’s a telepathic observation network active at all times on the island, keeping track of any psychic warnings.

Great Captains have been conducting live action island defense war games, though nearly all parties agree Krakoa’s defense will only be able to prove. Its greatest weapon is still considered the mutants on the island, especially the Omega level mutants of the population.

Krakoa Locations

Akademos Habitat / The Sextant
ALPHA House
BETA House
DELTA House
The Fort
Kinney Residence
Lifedeath
OMEGA House
The Pod
SIGMA House
ZETA House

Arakkii Pillar
Arbor Magna / The Hatchery
Arena
The Armory
Bar Sinister
The Boneyard
The Bower
Broken Baths
Carousel
Data Analysis
Dead Mutant Cove
External Systems
Forked Towers
The Green Lagoon
The Grove
Quiet Council Chamber
Pit of Exile
The Grove of Theoretical Gates
Healing Gardens
Hellfire Bay
Blackstone
The Red Keep
The White Palace
Hellions Staging Theater / Purgatory
House of M
House of X
Cradle One
Moira's No-Space
Cradle Five
Nanny's Cove
"Nightcrawler’s Perch"
Observation
The Oracle
Port Genosha
Prison Grotto
“Psychic Rescue Room”
The Quarry
The Reservoir
Rosetta
Singing Falls
Storm’s Garden
Sunset Cliffs
Transit (Main)
Various Transit Hubs
Voltus Glade
Sanctus Sacrum
The Wild Hunt
The Crow's Nest
Shadow King's Cave

2D.heroes.overview

[2D][dawn.of.x]................................[HEROES OVERVIEW]

Despite some obvious concern and heightened tensions recently, the metahumans of the world and the mutants of the world don’t seem to be at too high a stress level all things considered. Some are quick to point out that groups like the Eternals and Avengers haven’t publicly come out one way or the other.

Others are banking on the fact that when Earth needs every defense it can muster, the mutants and the X-Men have been there before and are likely to be. Although nearly all teams lost mutant members. Even Rogue and Logan left government work for Krakoan work.

While other metahumans aren’t likely to see you as any kind of threat, there’s likely to be some friction. No one likes those who keep secrets, and Earth’s mutants clearly have some secrets going on as they quietly go about Krakoan business. If you’re a mutant talking to other meta-humans, prepare for the questions. From the profane to the profound, the questions come in all shapes and sizes.

2E.orchis.overview

[2E][dawn.of.x]................................[ORCHIS OVERVIEW]

Orchis is a human-centric para-military organization focused on research, design, and solving what they, and it’s important to most in science to underscore the ‘they’ here as a minority in their fields, but what they consider the answer to the ‘mutant problem.’ They have near-future resources, some of the best and brightest minds in a generation, and have come to possess what had been Tony Stark’s Forge, along with several large spacecraft.

Though they have their own secrets and aces up the sleeve to play, Orchis rarely misses any opportunity to express their ideology and control the narrative around human/mutant relations. They come armed with a private army, a field research division that’s second to none, a marketing arm that effortlessly crosses national border and culture without losing its messaging, and enough A.I. assistant to nearly restart major Sentinel production on their own.

While both Krakoa and Orchis have clashed in recent weeks leaving Sentinel production practically zero, some Orchis analyst have been careful to rule out the notion the mutants swooped in, ruined their plans, and kicked their ass. Corpses have been found and cataloged. Orchis command is uncertain if any mutant survived the attack.

Whatever the case, this has been seen by both sides as merely an opening to wider escalation and confrontation.

03.rules.charactersheet

[03][dawn.of.x]................................[RULES/CHARACTERSHEET]

Right now we're keeping these rules relatively simple.

Don't violate site rules.

Don't metagame, or godmode.

GMs reserve the right of final say, and after a conversation's been had.

As for the Character sheet, the look/format is up to you. Just make sure the information is there.

character.sheet

Character Image.

Name.
Alias.
Age.
Place of Birth.

Powers.

History.

Story Arcs.

One or two overall plot arcs for your character, their group. They can be solo or shared.

Our Final Nights: A World of Darkness Roleplay

Collab with @Fiber

Not a single corner of the room was free from wires and machinery. On the balcony a stream of drones dropped off identical shockproof boxes, all locked with biometric seals, stacking them high. Grace was a whirlwind of activity, connecting wires, unloading equipment, shoving furniture aside when needed, opening the boxes and cataloging their contents. The only light was the glow of a dozen monitors and hundreds of status lights. It was not as organized as she liked, but she was working with limited time and in a non-ideal space. The wires crisscrossed the room like jungle vines, spreading across the king size bed, running along the floor and up high to the ceiling. She had decided to set up everything she thought she might need: enormous amounts of memory, Deep Learning Accelerators, ASICs, Quantum Processors, and more, so many things that could not yet be disclosed to the general public but would make any computer science student froth at the mouth with excitement. If she could get it installed here she wanted it installed here.

One last hard part was connecting the liquid nitrogren coolant system, fogs seeped through the room as she locked the last hose into place. After taking a moment to check the connections and let the setup scripts run, she walked to the doorway of the room and shouted into the hall “It should be ready soon. Our dataset is 23.8 million people, that will cover all of Southern California, even those Second Inquisition agents outside of Los Angeles proper. Between what you have, what Rachel has, and what I have, there is high probability we have enough data to identify them.” Grace then turned back to her work as she waited for Maty, and wondered to herself what Gwen would think of what she had done to the place.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatthefuck."

The tone wasn't enraged. It was a rather level toned exclaimation. It was more...pure horror mixed with exasperation. There, in the doorway, stood the five-foot-nothing girl that was latina before latina had a name. A mix of Spanish priests that abused and raped, stuck in a room and abused both physically and sexually and emotionally almost her entire life. And, yet, this was one of the more shocking moments of her life and unlife. Pretty brown eyes were WIDE, staring an absolute laserhole through the Federale's face. Breathing carefully, Yanci kept herself in some state of barely kept control.

"MATY!! THE FEDERALE RUINED THE PRICELESS HISTORICAL ROOM. FIX IT."

Yanci smiled at Grace after the sudden increase of volume directed down the hall, a radiant as any Hollywood socilate, "Yeah. I'm gonna go spend the night at our house on the island. Let me know if you guys need anything."

With a sudden spin on her heel, Yanci all but ran from the scene she had found in the master suite of the house registered with the National Registry of Historical Places. Not even a minute later the long haired young man was standing at the doorway, blinking. He looked to the left, to the right, and then he blinked all over again. "Well, okay. Where are we, uh...where are we starting?"

He might have continued, had the laughter not errupted from the tall blonde behind him, holding both hands over her mouth—which did absolutely nothing to stiffle the sound of the laugh. "Holy shit. This looks like a production set. Uh...need anything, Grace? Flux capacitor, maybe?"

When their dark eyes met and Yanci stared so intensely that Grace wondered if she was employing some power of vampiric blood, Grace tried to look apologetic but came across as confused. Grace’s own approach to interior aesthetics ranged from “utter chaos” (in her college days) to “soulless desolation” (now), so this wasn’t something she understood well. She said “Fair enough. You can bill me for any restorations.” as she questioned the value of historic preservation in her head. Hopefully the rest of the coterie didn’t share Yanci’s extreme reaction.

When Gwen and Maty came, she said “No need for flux capacitors, we stopped using those years ago. They were too unreliable for any serious chronomanipulation, and are now superfluous.” Grace said. She left it up to them to figure out if she was lying or not. Gwen was welcome to be here as long as she didn’t touch anything sensitive.

Now she turned her attention to Maty. “I’m sorry that I didn’t leave much room for you to work Maty, but I didn’t know what you’d need. If you’re the candles, talismans and pentagrams type, there is a flat area over there. Be careful around the box labeled D-Wave, it needs to keep a very precise temperature. The section next to the Cerebras Wafer Scale Engines and Tensor Processing Unit prototypes would be a better place. As for the user interface, I wasn’t sure if you’d want a Neural link, a VR headset, or just a plain old screen, so I have one of each.” she said, gesturing to a suitcase lying open next to the door to the balcony. “The set up here should handle any workload we might come across, from cracking encryption to deploying machine learning models, and if we need more horsepower or storage I’ve got connections to the major cloud providers and to UCLA’s quantum computing center, though I can’t guarantee the latency will be good.”

“We’ll start by building on the profiles of the known Second Inquisition agents, from there we can build a model of their characteristics and their social networks. Then we use the data from everyone in Southern California and we’ll find every single one of their agents in the area, with which you can do what you will. This isn’t the easiest way but it is the quickest, much faster than waiting for official approvals, we should have results before morning.

"Ooh-kay. Maty..."

"You'll be around?"

Gwen smiled, big, and just nodded a few times before she disappeared down the hall and down the stairs again. Maty himself entered into the room and stood near Grace, the only device out and activated was his smartphone, as he explained, "No need, I'll let the team listen in and do most of the legwork from their secret location."

Maty had been there before, and had his 'doorways' to the location that were more magical than practical, for security, but now wasn't the time to leave Catalina Island. The rest of them had made them abundantly clear. "You get all that, Masika?"

The feminine voice on the other end of the smartphone with the speaker call activated sounded off, "Yeah, Maty, we get what she's doing. We can assist with the data-mining and the send over a few profiles we already have built for agents we know about it. Let us know if you want more. We have over twenty we've sent to Eva and Rachel over the last year."

It seemed Maty would be taking a supervisory role. That meant he trusted his team. If they ever had a normal time again perhaps Grace would look into them, see if they would want to collaborate in the future. "I'll open a session for them. They can send as many profiles as they have, information overload is not an issue here. Now, let's begin with the processing." Grace took off her jacket, and started to reach around her back, going under her shirt and feeling for the connections. Then, one by one she plugged cable after cable her spinal column, finishing with one at the base of her head. The shirt was wrinkling and shifting as moved but her mind was now deep in the uncountable bytes of data, her eyes saw no longer saw the world, only the computer's inner workings. "If you have trouble keeping up, tell me. I will make what adjustments I can without compromising performance."

The process started with the most basic biographical information, from birthplace to test scores, but expanded to encompass everything they could. Every text message and email they sent, every motion made with anything attached to a GPS, every word spoken in earshot of an internet connected device, every little blurry and half formed image stored in the cloud somewhere, minute by minute records of mundane internet activity, all of their purchases and media consumption. Most of it was useless, most of it would be discarded without any thought and lost into the ether, but any of them could contain a hidden gem and had to be fed in at the start.

It didn’t matter who the data belonged to, it was hers to read. Privacy was a concept that had outlived its usefulness, and she hoped the rest of the world would realize that. Some entities had already shared their data or given a government agency a backdoor, those were easiest. For everyone else, there was a wealth of unpatched vulnerabilities lurking (Grace was grateful for the digital draculas sharing a few), and if that failed the quantum hardware could run through any standard encryption after a short wait. She knew there were still people who would fall through the net, those who had committed to living a life completely disconnected from modern technology or those with technological talent bordering on superhuman, it irritated her but she knew that some flaws were unavoidable. She didn’t count the scale of the data, didn’t know how many bytes it was, she just monitored the resource usage and pulled in more and more hardware from the cloud whenever she ran into bottlenecks.

This was hacking in the truest sense, not just breaking through security or operating a computer, it was doing the impossible within the limits of a system. It was all concepts that already existed, just ones that were a decade away from becoming refined enough for use by the sleepers, if Grace could reproduce this in public she’d have enough material for a dozen papers at top level Machine Learning and Computer Science conferences, but working in obscurity was one burdens of the Technocracy. It was all set up and working, but far too slowly, they didn’t have weeks to run it, huge portions of it would need to be ripped out and optimized to finish all twenty three million records tonight.

To make the changes Grace needed to connect in a deeper way. The implants let her turn thoughts into code, but it was time to go deeper, to dive into the machine with her whole consciousness. The room inside the mansion disappeared from her sight and the world of the machine filled her vision. Inside the machine while it was just doing automatic differentiation what she saw was hills and valleys gradually emerging from the data, as the gradient descent algorithm worked its way from one solution to the next, always in search of the next minima. Then she looked at the neural network, the thousands of layers of little cells of multiplication all operating in sync, seeing their components update as backpropagation helped whittle down the error more and more, they pulsed and changed with each iteration. All of this would have to be replaced, the giant network gave way to an ensemble of networks, all combining and collaborating, and gradient descent replaced with the quantum weirdness of Grover’s Algorithm.

Seeing those changes unfold, she turned to data itself. Out of the vast ocean of raw information, streams of data came together, collecting into storage locations and then flowing on into further processing. She traced their paths and their speed at which they flowed, reshaping pieces of the pipeline to squeeze out just a little more performance. Every piece of the vast ensemble needed its own data, and none of the information ever stopped flowing as she made her changes. Grace remembered the myth of Hercules diverting the Alpheios river as she worked, yet she was met with failure. Then she had an idea, instead of trying make a channel for the data, she would control it, every last bit, taking it all as part of her consciousness.

Grace was even deeper inside the machine. It had more processing power than a human brain, 23 million records and no self, no I. The concept of identity was fluid to the enormous sorting machine she had made and that she now found herself part of, slowly fading into it. It would act and decide without knowing why, without ever exercising a choice, all the world was merely third person descriptions to it. She watched her own records flow by and didn’t even realize who they belonged to, just a feeling that she had lost something, a feeling that terrified her.

She cried out, trying to reach something, shouting for her avatar. He appeared like a blurry field in front of her; she wasn’t seeing like she normally did. He said something that she couldn’t understand. Then she said “I need you, I need you now. You’ve always been with me, you’ve always been here and you’ve always showed me the right way forward. Claude, help me.”
Then he spoke “Do you? I thought I was just some image you built up over all the years, that’s what you said. If I’m just the product of synapses misfiring, what good am I?”
Her next words were hard to say “I was wrong about that.”
“Not the first thing you’ve been wrong about, nor will it be the last. Why don’t you spend some more time examine being wrong, or are you too afraid of that?”
Before she could speak again he was gone and she was lost in the mind of the machine. She was becoming more and more like it, human concepts like speech and vision were becoming harder to process. In desperation, Grace reached into whatever memories she had left in her mind, and tried to combine it with the data she had, linking them, seeing what traces of a personality could emerge.

Something she did pulled her out. Having regained enough consciousness to process visual information again, Grace looked around and saw herself back in the mansion. It wasn’t like she had left it, the room looked exactly as it had before her additions; she was laying on the bed and looking out the window, and when she tried to move she found her limbs wouldn’t respond. She was in some strange dreamscape, not the real world. As she tried to do something, anything, a hand reached down from behind her and slowly crept up to her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a pool of red in the palm of it, and then without her will Grace found herself drinking from it. The blood had the taste of iron but an electric warmth that filled her as it went down her throat. Then the hand reached up and ran fingers through her hair, slowly and gently stroking it over and over again. The light shifted and she the room reflected in the mirror. Now she could who was behind her, the unmistakable face of Eva, the one who had left an indelible mark on California and on Grace’s own psyche. That face wasn’t what shocked her the most, Grace could now see her own face and the perpetual, blissful smile across it.

There was no way to keep track of time in this dream, not by watching what was happening outside the window. All Grace could do was lay there in Eva’s unchanging embrace and stare at the endless night outside. Inside the room nothing ever changed, they lay there, always wearing the same expressions, but outside she could see the landscape changing. The lights of Los Angeles went out and never came back, the San Andreas fault opened wide enough to let the Pacific Ocean flood in, the mountains eroded away and the star in the sky grew darker, all of this happened without any reference to time, all of this happened while they laid there, unchanging and unmoving.

As she tried to scream with a mouth that refused to obey her and look away with eyes that never moved, Grace saw something stirring in the reflection, then it became sharper. As hand appeared reaching towards her, then it burst forth from the glass, still grasping for her. She tried with all of her will to move and found her own hand obeying her, reaching out and linking with, holding tight as it pulled her into the night.

Now she was in a black void, dark in every direction, completely empty except for one item in front of her: a chess board. The first move for white had already been made, and she was standing at the black side. Once she established that she could move again, Grace took a chess piece and made her move. Then an unseen force took a white piece and made a move in response. They played a game, which she drew. The next time she looked away it had been reset, and so she played again and again, using the black pieces, scoring many draws, until one game where she miscalculated and lost.

Then a voice said “Huh, I finally beat you. Guess first move advantage really does count for something.” Grace didn’t reply, too shocked to answer. It wasn’t the words that surprised her, it was that the voice that said it was her own. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve spent 20 years alone, all but erased. I was like, totally sure I had lost but you know, I had a vibe that something good might come to me.. It seemed like you held all the cards, you had some wicked harsh conditioning and pysch-tech, but I guess I did have something, being the original you and all. You just had to get wacked out enough that your whole brain bluescreened and when you were power cycling I could bypass all of those lame firewall you put up.”
Then she saw herself appear from the shadows, looking exactly like she had twenty years prior, down to the carefree expression and the colorful and chaotic clothing, like someone had stolen their outfit from a crowd of ravers.

Grace said to her “You aren’t me, not anymore. I haven’t been you ever since I stopped going by Margaret. I’m nothing like you, even just describing the two of us is enough to see that you can’t call us the same.”

“Really? You’re gonna hit me with that weak, Frege-Russel Descriptivism shit? Did your dumbass forget Kripke, causal theory of names, any of that ring a bell? It’s simple, a name for entity is valid as long as you can trace it back to when it was assigned. Possibilities, properties don’t matter, we can talk all we want about what if Aristotle never became a philosopher, never did anything to make him famous, but that doesn’t make him not Aristotle, the only way he wouldn’t be is if his parents had named him something else. Face it, you are still Margaret, you are still me. I know you’re judging me for all of the substances I used to take, but clearly the stuff the Technocracy has got you on isn’t doing much good.” There was a mocking tone in her words, a playfulness that couldn’t hide all of the vitriol
“This has been enlightening. At least I know I made the right decision years ago. I do not anticipating interacting with you again, and I will not be making any further psychological changes. I hope you enjoy the rest of your isolated existence.”
“As if. I’m long past due for a turn behind the wheel. Soon as the bootloader finishes it’ll be my chance”

Grace and Margaret each reached out to strike the other, and found a great flash of light engulfed them, and they came crashing back into a strange reality.
Grace’s body shifted again, the wires twisting and turning as she got up off the floor. She had been limp and babbling the whole time, the screens had filled up with the information of Second Inquisition agents, the processes had completed, but she had suffered some kind of psychic episode during it. Her shirt was torn open, buttons were missing, and her hair wild and unkempt. She rose to her feet slowly, hunched over and with eyes that shifted but never sat and focused on anything. There was one phrase she repeated over and over again, like a manic mantra “All stable processes we shall predict. All unstable processes we shall control.”

"What?"

"What? What's going on Maty?"

Maty stared, the pit of his stomach becoming an endless void of twisted possibilities as he stared at Grace. Or, at least, what HAD been Grace just minutes ago. He didn't know what to say to them, but the undeniable fear of containment immediately prompted an urgent act: "Yeah, I'll call you guys back." The phone was shut off, and then powered off as she stared at the form of the woman in front of him. He had protected them against magical threats. He had protected them against commandos and Kindred.

But ghosts in a machine?

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

When Maty's head turned, it was slower than it ought to have been, given the voice he thought he heard. What he saw when his head did turn, and look, just made him stare. "...is it you? I mean, are you really here?"

Eva smiled in gentle amusement, leaned into the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Bright brown eyes motioned to the woman hunched over, wired-up. "I came as soon as I felt it happen."

Her arms uncrossed and her body straightened in the doorframe; shining, impossibly straight dark hair tied up in a messy tail with little more than what appeared to be rubber-bands. The top of her body was covered in the high-tech and shiny fabric of a work-out teeshirt, black with Void Engineer and NASA logos, the very top of her hips and bottom of her stomach visible before loose fitting blue Navy camo utility pants held in place with a canvas belt pulled tight, her feet adorned in borrowed dark blue, white striped, Reebok classics.

"They broke her down, de-compiled her into various stacks of materials and energy, before rebuilding her in an image and visage they were happier with. It's a traumatic thing, being re-calibrated and used. So long as you never find a mirror, it never really bothers you. But should you find yourself staring in a mirror, what you find staring back at you...it's hard enough to face hard truths when you know who you are. Now imagine you only thought you knew who you were, and try it."

Maty looked between the two, his right hand scratching at the back of his head of long black hair. "Is it what we just did?"

"Yeah, at least, in part. In her desperation, she crossed lines of the machine she shouldn't have crossed. In her desperation, she threw open doors she didn't recall ever closing." The tall woman bent at the knees, bringing her head closer to the face of the hunched over woman. "Hello. Who am I talking to right now?"

Grace or whoever was in her body shook a little more as she stood up, but stopped babbling. Her eyes looked at Eva, noting that she put a lot of care into her appearance even when she had to make do with exercise clothes. Grace thought for a second about straightening up herself, but then decided there was no need for that. She spoke, having an uncertain but breezy tone in her voice. “Ummm, well, I just kind of had an argument with myself about that, identity, causal vs descriptivism theory of proper names, all that good shit. Let’s just go with Margaret for now. I’m who Grace used to be, and really, should’ve just been the whole time, she’s so lame. You’re, you’re Eva right? Other me didn’t really like you, but other me didn’t really like people much, anyway. I like them, they’re the fun kind of unpredictable, not too random like electrical noise, but more chaotic than crystal growth. I heard you like art. Hey, what’s your opinion on goa trance?

Eva looked at Maty, before blinking back to Margaret, keeping her silence for another few beats before allowing a quiet, tonally measured, response, "Great if you're dropping acid, I think. Maty?"

He was busy transferring data, his back now turned to both as he typed furiously, "Yeah, yeah I think we got it all. What do you want to do with it?"

At the posing of the question, Eva came to life with a bright, easy, smile. "Oh, I think we can find uses for it. Some good, some bad, bit of both...say, Margaret? You're aware of everything Grace was aware of, yes? World ending, all of that fun goss?"

Margaret smiled a little when she heard Eva mention acid. She might be over three hundred but it sounds like she still knows how to have fun. Maybe she could show how it’s even better when you’re stuff harder than acid. Then her face turned into a frown at mention of the apocalypse.

“Oh yeah, ummm that, uhh. Like, it’s Gehenna, I get it, I respect it. But at the same time like yeah, people are gonna die which is terrible, but like inevitable? I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this right now.” She said as she edged closer to the bedroom’s balcony.

Eva's smile never so much as twitched away from her lips. "Use the stairs, dear. We already have to spend enough money cleaning up after the mess Grace made to this historical room. Gwendalyn has a car with the keys in the visor; take it to the harbor and wait six hours for the first ferry. But do try not to scratch anything else in this house."

“Wait for the ferry? As if. I’ve been waiting too long to get a chance to do this again. Don’t worry, I won’t even make a scratch on the way down."

She blurred her perception, messed with settings on the nanobots in her bloodstream and muscle fibers, then lept with a picture perfect backflip clean over the railing. As she fell she stared back at them and slowly her whole body flickered before beginning to fade into the night. The last piece to vanish was her face, dissolving away as she waved her hand in one last “talk the hand” gesture. When her perception of time and space focused again she was far away, staring at Catalina Island from the shore for a moment before turning back towards the city lights, off to get ready for some long delayed fun.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I'm going to be completely absent for a few days as my youngest turns one.

@Hound55

Hope that was an amazing time for your family!

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

House of X, Building 01
Unincorporated Genosha

It was a primal rendezvous; even more than she had any intention of. In the pre-dawn hours at the House of X central building, Emma Frost was a sparkle of white in an otherwise still and dark interior. There was luck that the top of the two residential floors had been occupied by Hank, Scott, Thomas, and herself. Hank wasn’t even present, Thomas a deep sleeper—not that she had stalked through the hall.

Scott was awoken with lips near his waist, and calmed with a telepathic surge of her presence covering him, and her hot breath upon his inner thigh. A corset, and little else, was little enough; yet she had spent nearly an hour of determination beforehand showering, moisturizing, and applying just small touches. Enough eyeliner that when their eyes met across the length of his upper body, he’d notice. A difference of perfume between her wrists and the back of her neck, so a different rush came depending on a difference of position, and other touches he’d never know, but would notice in his waking lust.

Not that she allowed him to take initiative. Oh, no. Emma held him there and placed an index finger on his lips, wicked eyes and a domineering gaze commanding he wait until she was done. Until he was breathless and utterly relaxed in every fiber of his body. Then, if he could manage a second go of things, he could have his way. Scott Summers had never failed to take advantage of a second, or third, go of things.

She was sweat covered and laying her head at the foot of his sweat soaked bed, as he lay catching his breath, his head at his pillows, as she explained the meeting from the night before, with the two. “I may have to take more time away. Storm and yourself will manage perfectly fine, but it may be worth considering another telepath to the team if—”

Emma stopped as the alarm sounded. It was a softer ping rather than a harsher klaxon. Each member of the team knew the differences in alarms. This raised her brow especially because of what it meant, as she left the room, mentally, and touched with the person down in the control room in their basement: Storm, what’s happening?

Munroe was brief, Xavier and Cerebro have alerted us to as an incident in the US. Be ready in five.

Emma could have laughed. Fifteen, but I do promise to hurry, darling. She sat up and swatted, playfully, at the rear-end of Cyclops. “Down in the control room in five, Summers,” she said as she slipped off the bed and rushed for her shower and closet, “I’ll meet you down there.”

Even a mind honed from decades of discipline and conflict took more than a handful of moments to rally from the combination of an early morning with Emma Frost followed by the call to arms. He was just about coming to terms with the revelation of her impending absence, gazing down at her languid, naked, form. Quite distracting him from the matter was the dappling of moonlight over the softness of her skin, highlighting the sloping curve of her hips, before she was already moving, the look of sudden unrelated amusement on her face a clear sign of the telepathic conversation even as the ping roused them both from the post-erotic haze of their pleasure.

He did manage a murmured assent, his own hands catching her a moment after her own swat, pulling her briefly back to him for a moment by her waist to place a kiss to the side of her neck, then allowing her free movement, only pausing a little longer to watch her leave. Hate to see you go he thought the first part of the anecdote, knowing the words would bleed through to her without voicing them, before he was up and changing himself. She’d taken the shower, so that left him with rather more limited options to become presentable and still on time, especially as on time to Scott Summers was at worst the second person in the room, but he’d manage, such was the sacrifice of leadership. He felt there were few who would feel he had any right to complain about the wake up he’d received.

Getting changed was made only slightly more difficult by the aftershocks and perspiration of the previous hours, with enough product used to mask, if not entirely cover, the scent of him and her upon his skin. By the time his suit was on, his mind was on serious matters, and it truly took him less than two of those five minutes to be out the door. In contrast, Emma had just about switched the shower on.

Despite the situation of his wakeup call, Scott was the second to arrive, only Storm was present, as was to be expected, before him. He gave her a tired but respectful nod of greeting. He didn’t press for an update before the rest of the team had arrived, at this hour there was no need to have her repeat herself. Instead he set to making himself a coffee, offering the same for the longest standing of his remaining teammates in the interim.

While they may not have been as punctual as their leaders, the rest of the team weren’t far behind, and so Scott steadily added increasing numbers to his ‘order’ already knowing the personal preferences of each, which as this hour was mostly different varieties of ‘strong’ with disconcerting amounts of sugar for some. For someone who could be so famously sharp, Miss Frost certainly didn’t appreciate it in her coffee.

“So, Storm, what have we got?” Scott finally asked, returning to the briefing table with the full complement of coffee even before the aforementioned telepath arrived, timed perfectly to her sweeping in, the last of them, but still within her offered time limit, to reach the impromptu gathering.

“Ya look awfully cheerful this morning, Scott.” The woman was cross from the early hour and the rude awakening of the alert. Her Southern gulf coast accent thicker than the humidity on an August summer day in a bayou. Standing just next to Summers, Rogue couldn’t help but side-eye him and ask.

“He does look, hmm, uniquely chipper…” From one heavy accent to another, Kurt’s speech clear and concise after a sip of steaming hot coffee from the wide, thick, brown mug he handled carefully with both hands, seated on the other side of the briefing room, the middle of it taken up with the holographic projection of a globe, framed by the kind of booth seating usually only found in restaurants and dinners, yet somehow was seen as functional here.

The House of X was a strange mismatch of styles and construction.

“This one,” Magik said, motioning with a thumb to the woman in white beside her, “was smirking and is oddly quiet for her. They fucked.”

Ororo Munroe’s face fell into a palm as the room fell into snickers and laughter at the declaration of Illyana Rasputin, who’d been standing near the door when the White Queen came in at the last second and took a spot next to the Ruler of Limbo.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes, but Storm was done with the distraction. “Houston, Texas. In one of the upper middle class suburbs we have Seven Lakes High School, Katy, Texas. According to the Professor the mutant we’re looking for is sixteen year old Carmen Cruise; not certain about her abilities. Whatever it is, it has the X-Desk alerted and dispatching local FBI. We’d like to get there first, but according to Sage it’s gotten worse in the past half hour.”

“Law enforcement? In Texas? However could that get worse?” Emma didn’t need to smirk, the tone of her voice was already the perfect mix of sarcastic and smug.

“According to Sage monitoring social media feeds, Reavers are aware of the incident.”

Emma frowned, “Oh.”

“No time for a jet, I think,” Synch stood up from the booth seating, and looked at Illyana…who stared at him in confusion. “Oh, I…I didn’t know how it works. Would I want to be teleported while I’m seated? Wouldn’t I just fall? Or…? You tell me…?”

Magik looked past the new X-Man, to Storm and Cyclops, a small smirk spreading across her lips at agonizing slow speeds for Synch. “He’s gonna be fun. Let me see?” Magik motioned to the holographic globe indicating the location. It was little more than a holographic projection of Google Earth, allowing Storm to zoom in to the southwest US coast, to the city of Houston, to the eastern suburb of Katy, and finally, to the highschool surrounded by upper middle class suburban homes. “Yeah. I’ll try not to land us in the retention pond next to the school.”

The disc of light appeared blinding bright and warm to the sensation of touch, growing from it’s relatively small size to develop the time crammed in the tight debriefing room, before the light faded, replaced instead by the harsh and bright Texas sun, the humidity and nearly hundred degree heat index, leaving them in the far side of the southern parking lot of the massive American high school campus.

Seven Lakes High School, South Parking Lot
Katy, Texas, US

“...that wasn’t so bad,” Synch allowed, smiling at Magik.

The demon queen snorted, as Emma projected the telepathic image of their girl to the team. “This is Ms. Cruise. Sophomore.”

Storm was busy looking at the curb just off the south entrance of the school, and the curb: government black SUVs. She inhaled to begin to speak, before Emma Frost cut her off—”I’m feeling fear,” the telepath reported, grim faced, “The Reavers are inside. And armed.”

“Kurt and Emma, the girl. The rest of us need to get between the Reavers and the authorities, and make sure no one gets hurt. This is a school filled with children, let’s make sure no parent grieves tonight. Scott, point.”

Scott, used to his own authority, didn’t balk at the directive for a moment, already shifting to gain a headstart on the others to cut off the problem before it began. It was usually too much to hope that nothing would go awry, beyond whatever reason had called them to action, but that was rarely the case. This was Texas, the grounds of any school were more sprawling than they needed to be and he broke into a jog quickly, ignoring the slight tease of telepathic feedback from Emma. The White Queen tended not to rush and found it amusing enough in others, despite the circumstance.

He was business now though, business enough that when he turned the last corner and felt the immediate whistle of something passing rapidly through the air he ducked out of the way of the speeding rock without checking his step.

“Mutant scum! Get the fuck away from our kids!” There it was, barely minutes into their arrival and already a reminder why they’d put aside their various differences in Genosha. Not all humans, but a bloody lot of them. He’d long ago managed to master any flare ups based on suppressed emotions, so when the red line across his features suddenly lit up in preemptive anticipation it had nothing to do with the small gaggle of aggressive humans gathered at the school gates. The duck from the stone turned into a full combat roll as a series of impacts clattered across the ground he had previously inhabited.

“Found a Reaver.” Scott had time to warn the rest of the group before a pale skinned cyborg was upon him. They’d responded almost as fast as the X-Men to the situation, it would seem, and the gathering of hostile parents had provided one of their number the time to get close, leaping from the crowd brandishing a large blade. The screams were already in the air, the call to crowd violence forgotten in the presence of a true threat. Luckily there had only been the one to emerge from the crowd. Unlike some, Scott couldn’t entirely rely on his powers, and so motions honed in training pushed his limbs to knock away forceful blows aimed for him. The force shook his body, not the ideal situation for him to be in. Time to even the playing field.

The already concerned cries from the school gates intensified as Scott’s eyes roared into bright ruby life, the controlled cascade of energy rolling across the figure attempting to strike him down with superior force, sending them sprawling back and smoking. Such an outburst had a good chance of killing a human, but if he was lucky he would have disabled the cyborg, that was usually at least the aim. As the steam rippled from the Reaver’s form, his eyes were already turning to the perimeter, finding the startled gaze of a local officer, handgun already raised. At him, of course.

“Put that thing down and get these people out of here, we can discuss who’s fault this is another time, lets save these people.”

Winds whipped at the skin and eyes of the small crowd, as mist crept across the expanse of concrete filled with cars, bordered with neighborhoods of pristine newly constructed homes. The winds were localized enough to hopefully avoid damage to the nearby neighborhood, the fog disorienting and obfuscating to the crowd, as Rogue stepped up and crunched the firearm pointed at Cyclops as she walked past, leaving nothing but a stunned school cop behind. “We ain’t got time for this. There's babies in that building.”

Synch borrowed from Emma, and reinforced Cyclops’ instructions to the school cop with telepathic forcefulness. Rogue, he thought, was right; they didn’t have time for this. “They know we’re about to enter. Most of them have peeled off and seem to be waiting for us in the cafeteria.”

“Are there children in the room?” Storm asked.

Synch took a heartbeat to answer, “A few, not many. A dozen of the Reavers.”

“Magik,” was Storm’s only direction; the disc of light followed, “act fast.”

Seven Lakes High School, Cafeteria
Katy, Texas, US

Before the light carried them to a corner of the massive, two story tall interior space of the school’s cafeteria, they were acting as Synch switched from Emma to Rogue. Storm was the first, a beat after they teleported arrival to the cafeteria, taking a Reaver from behind and lighting him up with enough electricity for Synch to smell burnt flesh immediately.

He crashed into an immensely tall and muscular Reaver, the man felt half machine as Everett struck with clinched fists enhanced with Rogue's strength into the Reaver’s midsection. Cyclops and Magik stayed in the corner, at first; Magik opened a smaller a teleportation disc before them, a handful of small discs appearing around the air in the room before Cyclops let loose with a blast as ruby red concussive light ping-ponged upside Reaver heads.

He heard a Reaver scream as Rogue threw him by the ankle out of a tall window. Storm suddenly had knives in her hands, making a Reaver regret approach. Magik was howling with violent delight as she leapt into a duo of Reavers. It was bloody melee now, as Synch battled the oversized Reaver with fists, shrugging off blows with Rogue’s durability and strength, his mind kept in the present despite wanting to find the others.

——— ⭙ ———

Seven Lakes High School, Ms. Meyer's Sophomore English Classroom
Katy, Texas, US

The teacher fired three shots at the center mass of the first one through the door, as some children screamed in the far corner of the interior, windowless, classroom, desks hurriedly braced against the door but pushed aside by the three Reavers that burst through and into the class. The shot Reaver looked shocked, as he fell to his knees, some combination of blood and what smelled like hydraulic fluid leaking out of him, his hands covering the gunshot holes.

One of the two Reavers just behind the one dropped to his knees from wounds pointed a gun of his own at the forty something blonde female teacher in a Navy blue dress. Shock gave way to clinched eyes as she readied to be shot; and there was no scream from the teacher as she heard gunfire, and breathed in a panicked inhale of air filled with the scent of brimstone.

Violence was a blur of light, smoke, and blue fur before the teacher’s now open and wide eyed stare. The voice came gently, as thick in accent as the air had just been in air, “Frau Meyers, it is alright…don’t shoot.”

The woman didn’t even seem to notice she was still holding the gun, aiming it forward, where Reavers had been there now was a blue fur covered man with a soft expression and pleading eyes, misshapen hands with only three fingers held up, palms up and out, as his body language mirrored his speech.

The fear in the woman abruptly gave way to a stronger will as the gun fell, and her eyes blanked—her mind no longer her own as a crystalline Emma Frost stepped over two bodies and smashed a diamond fist into the back of the skull of the initial Reaver into the room, placing from his knees and bleeding out to an unconscious and leaking heap onto the floor behind Kurt.

“Emma, she’s scared,” his protests were immediate.

And just as immediately, Emma Frost dismissed them, as her body went from diamond to flesh and designer skinny slacks, corset, and gloves near to her elbows, eyes on the children, “She’s fine. Take the gun. Children? Let’s move.”

“You’re X-Men,” said one of the huddled children, behind a smartphone pointed at them, recording.

Emma was unphased, as sweet a smile as her lips could find suddenly on her face, the tone of a headmistress mixing stern warning and affection suddenly upon her, “Yes and now let’s get moving, all of you. Into the room across the hall and to the right.” Emma had that teacher, Mr. Roberts, unlock the door and await Ms. Meyers class.

Nightcrawler took the gun from the teacher, placing it on the desk behind her, as students began filing out, Emma reached out and barred the way for a brown haired, brown eyed latina girl wearing jeans and a blue pull over blouse. “Not you, Ms. Cruise.”

“What’s going on?” A pale girl with a heart shaped face and red hair, a green shirt and black tights was the last one not to leave, sticking next to the girl Emma stopped. Best friend, was the telepathic explanation Emma gave Kurt, Emma’s tone remaining just as it had before as she regarded the other girl, “Your friend Carmen is in danger, we’re simply getting her to safety. Please go with your class, Anna.”

The other girl blinked at the use of her name. There were a few moments of silent words between the two girls as they exchanged looks, ending with Anna hugging Carmen and telling her to call her later, before she gave one last look to Emma, and Kurt, then following her class to across the hall. Ms. Meyer followed, still not quite under her own control until she was in Mr. Roberts room and the door was locked after her. Emma alerted the rest of the team they had what they came for. Storm responded quickly for them to meet in the cafeteria. Kurt put as hand on Emma and Carmen, and with a quick bamf they were with the others in a trashed cafeteria littered with unconscious Reavers.

“Hello, child," Storm's greeted Carmen with a small smile and supreme confidence, "We will get you home soon, but first we need to see to your safety.”

Carmen Cruise stared at the group, ignoring the Reavers entirely, as if she stared at ghosts. “...I saw all of you die.”

“DOWN ON THE GROUND, NOW!”

The ‘verbal judo’ strong command came from men in tactical gear behind ballistic shields, training combat rifles in the group’s direction. Local law enforcement’s tactical response team. Storm looked unimpressed, as none of them moved an inch, “Magik, if you please.”

Magik smiled brightly, and waved at the men late to the party wearing tactical gear in true smartass fashion as the light disc grew, encompassed the mutants, and left nothing but Reavers and a trashed school cafeteria behind.

——— ⭙ ———

Task Force 2, Mobile, Jungle Roads
Andean Foothills, Ecuador

They double-backed five times. Went off road just as often as they were on a road. The trucks struggled with the terrain, but he knew they had to be sure. He’d spent his fair share of training time in the South and Central American jungle as a Navy SEAL. What had started as a simple escort had turned into a tense game of cat and mouse. They had picked up the technical expert from the small airstrip once used to smuggle drugs, now used by their organization to smuggle in resources like equipment and people.

All he’d been told was to pick up the technical expert. They met the contact at the airstrip; a man in his late thirties. Caucasian, midwestern accent, with the right identifier. He’d never seen the man before, but that wasn’t unusual; their organization was heavily fragmented for operational security reasons. One ‘petal’ was separate from the others, and all of them separated from the central column. All he knew was his CO; Lieutenant Colonel Kravik.

It was Kravik who had sent the warning: Warning Echo-Alpha-Nine. Do not proceed.

His blood ran cold when he first read the message. Echo-Alpha-Nine? Well, shit. His time at SHIELD was more than enough of an education on that threat. To his six man squad, and the technician they were escorting, he simply informed them they would have to shake a tail. When his men pressed for details, he gave them little. Just covert operators sent to spy and track them to their destination.

They couldn’t allow that, obviously. Hell yeah, his squad replied, and that was that. The technician had wanted more, but he wouldn’t give it. When they stopped for fuel, the first night, things exploded. Echo-Alpha-Nine caught them. Of his six man squad only four were able to withdraw in time, with only one of the trucks. The technician had been in a panic, and required strict measures to keep in line; he had to punch the man out, cold. While he was out, the four remaining of his squad began talking, nervous.

They had enough fuel to make it to Extraction Point Charlie, he told them. He was right, but no one was coming. Kravik had made that clear after he requested assistance. Shake them. You were trained for this. The man wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right, either. The second day and into the night they never stopped zigging-and-zagging between off road and on road, nearing Extraction Point Charlie as the jungle night got truly dark, the only warning was the sound of a motorcycle engine behind the truck. Then the operator was on them. He was able to toss his device before the truck crashed and it all went black.

He woke up, his right leg bloody and mangled, from the crash he had to assume, a source of pure agony that told his mind it was a broken leg, seated against a tree just off the side of the dirt road. They were less than a click from Extraction Point Charlie, but they never made it. Deep down, he wasn’t sure they were ever going to make it. He heard enough stories about Echo-Alpha-Nine to know that much.

“Been huntin’ you Orchis boys for months,” threat designated Echo-Alpha-Nine said, as he finished restraining and gagging the technician, the only other one of their group still alive that he could see, “you wanna do some talkin’, or we doin' this the other way, bub?”

He looked up at the Wolverine, and glared. Torture? He expected it, to be honest, but the sight of those claws…nothing got you ready for that. Or how sharp they were. Or just how surgically precise the mutant was with them. Or the dark, dead, predatory look in his eyes. “I don’t know enough.”

“...no, I wasn’t figurin’ you did. But between what you do know, and what that egghead is gonna tell me, and what that phone you tossed might tell me…gonna have to be ‘nough.”

The technician was set up to watch. He didn’t blame the mutant. That was just smart. Make the untrained watch in horror, make them more likely to talk to avoid the same fate. He wouldn’t be alive for much longer, but somehow, the look of that technician’s eyes as the mutant made him start to scream was the worst part.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Given the time elapsed, I'm going to take Logan (Wolverine) back into the X-Men fray.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

@Alternax

<Snipped quote by Ruby>

Damn, here comes the high roller.

<Snipped quote by Sep>

Lookin forward to seeing my favorite god of hammers again.

@Alternax

Damn right. I got like, four, five monies. Easy.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Forward Research Bunker 'Quito'
Andean Foothills, Ecuador

The low hum of servers droned in the black void of the back shadows of the space. He had been reduced to a shadow among the shadows; the pants they provided him were black, the top matched in color with a basic v-neck cotton tee design. He wiggled his toes inside the grey pair of New Balance sneakers. At first, they had been jailers, even if they were some of the most polite and courteous jailers he could have lucked into. He was never threatened, other than the simple fact he wasn't allowed to leave.

Not yet, anyway, they told him.

In a conference room with a metal table, metal chairs with white cushions, and metal paneled walls, Donald Trask told him the truth: he wasn't anything like his uncle Boliver. Donald was smart, but he wasn't Boliver. He'd heard the tale before; Tony Stark had been the one to conceive of the Sentinel program. In his haste and his multi-tasking glory, Stark had handed the project off to the rising star technical mind in Stark's company: Boliver Trask. Donald wasn't sure if Mr. Stark had understood the kind of man that Boliver was, but the Trask family knew.

To the beautiful woman who had lured him, now with pinned up hair and wearing what looked like a tactical uniform with no insignia, he came clean. To the man who he had seen in the hotel suite wearing the exact same thing the woman had, and the dirty blonde square shaped woman in the glasses with the white lab coat and khakis on, all three on the other end of the conference room table, Donald spilled it all.

Boliver was a brilliant man, but he could be something of a jerk. It wasn't evil that brought Boliver to the place in history he would eventually inhabit, it was love: it was a father's love for his son. Donald's cousin, Larry, had been born a mutant. So was Tanya, Boliver's daughter. Few knew, outside who Donald had to assume had been the X-Men, or whoever the mutants not on the Avengers-like team of mutants were called. Somewhere, Donald had to admit, Boliver went from love to hatred. His daughter was lost to mystery, his son killed by the very things Boliver created.

Donald did what he could to live a normal life and forget it. He was just grateful he hadn't been born a mutant. When he was younger, he admitted to the trio seated at the table, he had wished he had been born with mutant powers. Who didn't want to be superpowered? The older he got, the more he realized mutants like the X-Men were rare: most mutants were closer to freak shows than they were superpowered. And the odds of being born a superpowered mutant was about the same odds as achieving superpower through science, like the Avengers, or being an alien, like the Justice League.

But, Donald told them, he didn't hate mutants. When they asked if he thought they hated mutants, Donald couldn't help but nod. He did. The woman in the lab coat chuckled, while the man explained: they didn't hate mutants. Their organization didn't hate mutants by its nature. It wasn't anti-mutant, it was simply pro-human. Donald had said it best; when most of the world doesn't have superpowers but those with superpowers are growing in number...what was to happen? Governments had made laws regarding limitations and registration, but none of them had ever had the desired effect. It was a more pressing crisis than climate change. At least with climate change there was some kind of answer, some semblance of hope.

Based on the math alone, within their lifetimes mutants would displace humans on the planet Earth as the dominant species.

Donald had understood their points, who didn't? But he wasn't quite certain a shadowy organization was something he could support. Then Alice, the pretty woman, had asked him to give them a day and let them show him everything they had. If he didn't want to help them, after that, they'd just let him go. He believed them. The evening was spent playing chess with the woman in the lab coat, the four of them had a nice dinner of steak and salad. Alice and he talked late into the evening, and when he asked her what to expect from the next day, she simply told him honesty is what he'd get. Complete honesty.

In the dark lab with the servers the next morning, he waited. When Alice finally arrived, she was smiling. "Do you need anything?"

Donald shook his head, "No," there was a moment's hesitation before he looked from the gray floor and back up to her face, "I honestly just want to get started."

"Yeah, I can understand that."

"So, uh," his small dark eyes set back into his thick cheeked face looked back and forth, "where are we headed?"

Alice's smile never waivered, "When you're done, we'll be right outside the door."

"Oh, um...okay, yeah."

It was a little over half an hour before the stale recycled air of the hidden facility stirred as Donald emerged from the shadowy lab. His eyes wide, his posture changed with his back straight and his shoulders back. In the doorway he stared at the three of them, his voice full of conviction where before there had been uncertainty. "I'm not sure I understood all of it, but...I understood enough of what was shown to me. You all have to do something. You HAVE to do something, and you have to do it now. And I guess...I guess my only question now is...what do you need from me? Say it, and it's yours."

——— ⭙ ———

Eastmont Plantation
Unincorporated Genosha

When he awoke half-way through the night, the world seemed oddly quiet. There was the distant noise of waves thundering hundreds of feet below the cliff in which the old building was perched. There was occasional sound from the heavy forest that bordered the property. More immediate to his bedroom, there was the crackle of a small fire in the fireplace. Yet somehow the world seemed to be holding it's breath, and leaving Charles Xavier uneasy. He returned to sleep staring at the Cerebra helmet on the bedside table.

When morning came, and he stirred, the air smelling of seabreeze and dust and years. The building was a pre-fabrication built around an older structure; a colonial plantation from the days of the British Empire. The fields of the plantation had long ago been reclaimed by the wilds of Genosha, but the structure was updated with it's prefabrication exoskeleton due to the caves below. It was there that Charles had truly set up shop, in a lab that was once used to torture and experiment on mutants. There was a satisfaction that the subterranean structure was the place where the newest version of Cerebra was born, the secret lab now expanded and built upon, a mix of high technology, alien technology, and what Forge was beginning to simply call, "organic technology."

It was there the six of them met, waiting on the seventh. It was young Douglas Ramsey who began, his face scruffy with a blonde beard, the result of months away. Forge, Sage, Beast, Trinary, and Black Tom had already been there when the steel caged elevator brought Charles down to the lab. Tom looked something like a gangster pirate. The rest of them wore variations of X-team uniforms. On a whiteboard was a badly drawn tree, with five roots. "Morning, Professor. I was about to get into the systems we've set up."

Charles bid them wait but a few more moments. In the far background of the subterranean level an opening in the face of the cliff, showing the horizon of the Indian ocean from the middle heights of the Genoshan cliff. Their last attendant flew in gracefully, landing softly close to their group, his eyes carefully inspecting new additions to the lab.

"Organic tech, I'm calling it," Forge announced to Magneto.

Charles walked closer to the group, his eyes on Erik. "Douglas was about to debrief us."

And so he did; the four systems in place: Transit and Monitoring, it was agreed Sage was the natural selection for this. After some discussion between Douglas, Sage, and Forge, the mutant with the machine of a mind nodded her agreement, finally. Defense and Observation was a proposal for Black Tom. The man agreed, instantly, before it was even fully explained by Douglas and Forge. Secondary and External Systems would be left to Trinary, given her unique abilities. Hank would provide an Overwatch role, using his experience and various specialties as catch-all for the other three systems. The fifth root was simply marked in red, with a phrase in quotations: "Skunkworks."

This, Forge explained himself, would be his area. Douglas chimed in at the end to emphasis how much progress, and how fast, Forge had made during his short time joining him on the island.

"Thank you," Charles said after a moment's silence, one arm crossed over the chest of his cotton button-up, the other rubbing his smooth chin. "Please, Cypher and Forge, take the day to rest and refresh. Trinary, Hank, Tom, please enjoy the breakfast spread in the dining room above." It was said with the tone of a professor dismissing class. Where fluorescent light met natural rays from the cave opening mid-cliff, the two men stood, regarding the white board.

In his way, Charles simply leaned over, and got on with it casually, "Your daughter is on the island." There was a pause, before he remembered to specify, "Lorna. Bobby Drake is escorting her. Apparently Genosha has had a rash of attacks on defense infrastructure, terrorism from the reports, I've tasked Bobby with investigating it, assuming she would join him in the effort—I appear to have been correct in that assumption."

“She is free to be, as are all Mutants.” It wasn't a surprise that muted Eric’s tone, not that he had known, but trepidation, his eyes following the backs of those dismissed out the door, disappearing the moment before Charles’ spoke. “Perhaps if I had your gift, old friend, instead of my own, my daughters would be less burdened with the errors of my ways. But perhaps that is optimistic of me. I will speak with her when she is ready to do so, I am sure she needs little aid from me to help Master Drake.”

With blue eyes that found themselves staring into the whiteboard scrawled with the black inked marker handwriting of Douglas Ramsey, Charles Xavier found himself unable to keep his mind away from thoughts rumbling like a distant storm in the back of his mind as the suggestion that his old friend would in any better standing with his children should they had swapped gifts, the face and bitter tone of his son a flashpoint for regret Charles did what he could not to focus on. “Between us, I think your relationship with your biological children may be better.”

Erik did not sit, instead his focus resumed on the white board, assessing what he had heard, and what he could still see. “Ambitious, but then, neither of us would be here if we were not. Another great project from the mind of Xavier, although perhaps one day you will not talk to them as if you are still Headmaster.” It was not a particularly subtle deflection via jest, but speaking of one daughter brought up thoughts of another, and when speaking with Charles, thoughts were simply another medium of verse. “Have you yet spoken with Miss Frost?”

The comment about the Headmaster’s tone brought Charles’ blue eyes slowly from the board to the taller man. Charles kept any proper retort to his own thoughts, instead sighing into the subject of Emma Frost. “Yes. I delivered her the Cerebra helmet. She called it ugly,” Charles admitted, as he chuckled in amusement. “We will need to tell her, and soon. I have laid the groundwork I could with my own business firm investments, but she saw through them as easily as we telepaths see through a simple mind. If the woman has an Omega-level talent, it’s the ruthless world of capitalism—and she has truly mastered it. If we’re going to do this in a way that’s different from how you established Genosha, if we’re going to really achieve what we must for all mutant-kind, we will need to lean on her. Have you given any thought to how we approach Sinister?”

“It is unfortunate we even have to consider doing so.” The distaste was evident in Erik’s tone, although whether this was at the thought of Sinister himself or the matter of fact manner that Charles took in regards to dealing with him, was unclear. Perhaps both. He deflected for the moment, as before responding to a less serious aspect of their conversation. “Perhaps we should listen to her, appearances are important, at least we wouldn’t want her to hesitate in wearing it, should the need arise.” He was evidently joking, a tease towards the individual not present. “We should, perhaps later today, when we are done dealing with the Americans. They’ve been speaking with Scott, but that didn’t stop them parking an arsenal capable of eradicating this entire coast of Africa, let alone Genosha, nearby while they did so.” It was almost as bad as the old days, the near world ending conflicts which had dominated the early period of when the world became aware of mutants. The conflicts had never really ended, they’d just gone underground. Or underwater, in this case.

“We will need to offer something to Sinister that he wants, but doesn’t feel he can simply take. An ever smaller list, to his mind, I have no doubt, and it will need to be balanced against what the others will allow, no matter how much you tell them it is for their own good. Some are more heroic than us, in that matter.”

“Agreed,” Charles gave a half shrug as he stared, either at the white board, or past it into his own internal thoughts, “We bring Emma in today or tomorrow, schedules allowing.” She is a member of the X-Men, and they have a habit of becoming unavailable when something comes up. And something always comes up, he finished the thought to himself, sparing Erik the melodrama of the X-Men-centric thinking.

His bald head turned at the distaste of Sinister, the thoughts of one of those former X-Men echoing in his mind: Trust him, Charles, and we will all burn. “We will have to offer him a seat at the table. Hard as it is to swallow, I find I feel best about Mr. Essex when he’s in view; it’s when he’s off in the shadows and lurking about in labs that I feel most anxious about him. That said, he was very willing with our test case” Charles readjusted the weight of his body from one foot to the other as he released a soft sigh from the very pain that the knowledge and experience of Essex had cost him. “They’re ready, by the way. I haven’t told anyone else, yet. The only ones that know are them, themselves, and Douglas; and you, now…and Gerard, of course. He’s aware of all the risks. I’ll handle the killing.”

As far as Charles was concerned, the less said about it all, the better—for now anyway.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

I love my job.

But...this week has been a lesson in why I get paid "the big bucks."

Hoping my CEO comes back soon and I don't have to do his job and MY job for much longer. It hasn't left me much time to live life, yet alone work on posts. Hopefully soon. Part of it's done, probably about half? I might just post 2/3s and leave the last scene for a small, solo, post.

Yeah. Yeah I like that idea.