Ruby

Marvel: Judgment Day

[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

_{Jean Grey, Magneto, CIA Deputy Director Greg Joseph [NPC], Paul Bailey [NPC]
Location: Albany, New York, United States of America
Plot: The Trial of Jean Grey}

"I know this isn’t really what your ‘team’ does, Jean, but I have to ask…are you going to avenge them?"

Jean Grey gave no outward sign of so much as having heard, let alone understood, what her brother-in-law said to her through the temporary telepathic link between them. Watching them, as the humans clearly were, it would certainly appear that Jean’s ears were perked to the chat between Max and the CIA Mutant Desk Director behind her.

No one would guess where her thoughts really were.

“Mr. Bailey is under Federal protection, at his own request,“ the Director of the Mutant Desk explained, “When he requested to come meet his sister-in-law, Ms. Grey, we certainly weren’t going to say ‘no.’ The transport and security for this meeting was handed to our desk.”

Jean gave a squeeze to the arm of her brother-in-law she was hugging, before letting it go, and turning to directly face him. To take that face in her hands. To smile, at him, and at the memory of her sister, Sara, and their babies, her beloved niece and nephew. Green eyes smoldered with the kind of emotion that made people nervous to see in her features, her voice reduced to little more than a whisper. “I love you. I will always be here for you, Paul.”

It took little effort for the woman in heels to lean up and press her lips gently upon the man’s forehead, before her heels touched back down upon the pavement next to the entrance to the parking garage, and Paul embraced Jean with a tight, emotional, hug.

A smoke grey 2022 Bentley Bentayga Speed with blacked out windows emerged from the shadows of the parking garage at the kind of slow, deliberate, speed and perfect timing that hinted at telepathic coordination as it came to a stop just beside Jean and Paul as the two broke their embrace.

“Deputy Director Joseph,” Jean said as her head turned to his direction, noticing the harder look that had replaced the formerly charismatic expression on the man’s face, “take care of your people, and mine, please.”

Emma’s driver, an ebony skinned man hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and an expensive, perfectly tailored, suit got out of the SUV registered to the Hellfire Trading Company, holding the back door open for the two mutants present. “Thank you,” Jean said it quietly to the driver as she got in, giving a final smile to Paul before the mutant they knew best as Magneto got in, the driver shutting the door after him, and taking up his post at the wheel.

“We need to stop at a pharmacy before we arrive,” a quick pause as her mind evaluated the options, before, “a Walgreens is preferred.” She always liked their selection just a little more than alternatives, and they were small enough that, maybe, she and her companion wouldn’t be immediately noticed.

Her tone quieted, something closer to the kind of whisper that was reserved for private moments, her head turning so she could look the man next to her in the eyes, so he could see the sad little smile burned onto her red lips, “You’re not the man I first met. I’m not the girl you first met, Max…and if I address you, I would rather speak to the man I trust now; the real you.” Her eyes returned to the front, to the windshield and the streets before them as they began their trip to the funeral. After a quiet beating of hearts, she added, “Not the mutant everyone thinks they know.”

We aren’t the people they think we are.

Marvel: Judgment Day

This seems like it could be interesting and I have been itching for a super hero RP as of late if you're still accepting new players.

@sly13

Sure, hop in. It won't re-brand/re-launch until later this week.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

_{Magik, Sunspot, Mirage
Location: ALPHA House, Akademos Habitat, Krakoa}

“Where did the coffee g—”

The question died as it slipped from Sunspot’s mouth, as his brown eyes met the cold blue ice of Illyana Rasputin’s eyes, and to the giant mug of steaming Krakoan coffee she nursed protectively.

“We’ll brew more,” Dani said, as she came into the main opening of ALPHA House’s first story behind Da Costa. Illyana’s arms untensed around the mug, as she returned to taking thirsty sips of the dark, strong roasted Krakoan coffee bean that was new enough to the island nation that of all places it could be found…the Akademos Habitat was the only place on the island, so far.

Although Blob had managed to trade some favors for a bag, in order to serve the occasional cup at the Green Lagoon. Da Costa kept his eyes on the black leather clad mutant, his body stiffened just enough to convey tension, and an audible sniff from him hinting at a dissatisfied Sunspot. Given his entitled nature, Illyana thought, she would continue keeping her mug safe.

“Aren’t you Manhattan bound?”

Dani peeked up from her work brewing the next pot, doing what Dani did in trying to keep her curiosity from leaping over the table and assailing Magik. “What for?,” she asked it, so casually, before being unable to offer a leading question, “Is it Great Captain business?”

“It is Apocalypse’s idea, supported by Frost and Xavier; they would have Stephen Strange visit the island. There is information the big blue man is wanting,” she said, shrugging, as she took another deep drink, her blue eyes keeping wide as if Illyana Rasputin could will herself into a hyper-alert, hyper-caffeinated state. “They believe he can help.”

Even without coffee, Da Costa perked, “Strange? Here?”

“How many people know?”

Illyana shrugged, “The children gossip and giggle. We do not want to scare the poor, nerdy, man, so they have asked me to provide transportation outside of the Gates for his arrival, so that he may be spoken to by members of da Council before.”

“About this thing they need information on?” Dani asked, as Da Costa tried to pay more attention to making his cup of coffee than to Illyana’s answer.

She noticed, but didn’t care, “I do not know what it is. I only know of the Great Captains, I can teleport, and I know magic.”

“That’s what I like about you, Illyana, you know when to stop caring. Can’t say that of everyone around here…” Da Costa quickly mumbled that last bit, as he avoided the gaze of Dani Moonstar.

Illyana, herself, just rolled her eyes. “You are more pathetic than usual without Sam, Roberto.” He protested, deflected with ego and humor, but she had already set down her empty mug and picked up her blade, leaving the irritation that was Roberto missing Sam to Dani, and the rest of ALPHA House.

The thin flesh of the ethereal sliced open at the glow of the Soulsword just outside the front door of ALPHA House, a group of four pre-teen mutants in the field nearby blinked and watched as she waved at them, and stepped through.

_{Magik, NYPD Patrolman
Location: 177A Bleeker Street, New York City, United States of America}

Her journey was quick, as Limbo was unsettled, and she lacked the patience to deal with it today. The screams seemed to echo a little louder, curdle the blood a little thicker, she thought, as she stepped out into the street shaded from the sun by the building that stood before her.

“..what the fuck?!”

The human man that happened to be walking down the Manhattan sidewalk near the edge of the street where she appeared said it out of concerned surprise, probably due to the hellish screams, defensively reaching for his black belt, with the weapon holstered. His clothes were blue. Or, rather, his uniform was dark blue. NYPD. Illyana offered him something that sat on the blade’s edge, between a smirk and a smile, as she answered him with a shrug. “Is portal.”

He watched her, but the moment she hit those stairs, there seemed to be a new understanding in the man's brown eyes. Oh. One of those. She ignored him as his hand drifted to the radio on his shoulder, and he began to whisper something into the device.

As if even the NYPD knew the reputation of where it was Illyana approached. The portal closed behind her as she stepped up to the stairs of 177A Bleecker Street, the sheer energy pulsating from the very ground, from the doors, from the walls, was enough to make her lightheaded. Or, maybe, it was the coffee. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her lips parted in a silent sigh, “Come now, Doctor, do not make me knock.”

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Although quiet drives were rare things, he found the pickup of the protectee from the small airport just north of the Capital District of New York, and the subsequent drive into Albany, to be a landscape of gentle, green rolling foot hills that seemed to melt into the Hudson River valley, with the Catskills Mountains hazy in the distance.

It would have been downright relaxing, if not for the protectee, and the reason for their presence. The handheld encrypted radio bleeped into activity, breaking the quiet drive.

“We have a problem.”

The man seated behind the driver of the large, black, General Motors SUV gave a wry smile, and brought the radio closer to his mouth to answer, “What problem?”

“She’s here, but she isn’t alone. Fucking Magneto came with her.”

Greg Joseph found his eyebrows perk at both the mention of the man, and the way in which the Agency analyst on the other end of the radio said it. Fucking Magneto, the senior analyst said, and he found himself not blaming them for it.

Joseph found himself pausing before responding, exchanging a look from the Special Agent in the front passenger seat, before turning his head to the right, to the man seated quietly in the seat behind the front passenger seat, eyes perking at the protectee, “News to you?”

“I had no idea, no. I just knew she was coming.”

Everything about Paul Bailey told the former US Army Intelligence and Law Enforcement turned CIA Mutant Desk Chief that he was being honest. A soft sigh escaped him before the radio went back to his mouth, Joseph taking another pause as his mind raked across the files and reports in his mind. “…we don’t normally see her alone, do we?”

Even the Special Agent in the front passenger seat looked back at his boss, a curious look on the Agent’s face. What are you getting at? Their senior analyst’s feminine tone softened, as her mind played catch-up, “Jean Grey?”

He didn’t have the patience for them to find it, themselves, “Think about every time we’ve seen her go through a Krakoan Gate. Is she ever alone?...no, right? Never? Meanwhile, Ororo Munroe sneaks out and surprises our analysts on the subway, or pops into Wakanda, or Kitty Pryde is boating around the world's oceans, or Emma Frost is strolling through gates solo like she owns the world…why is this woman different? Why is she never alone?”

“Could be coincidence,” the tall, blonde, former college athlete Special Agent in the front passenger seat offered.

The senior analyst came back over the radio, ”…she’s either always with teammates, family, or children. Or…”

“Or the woman who zapped an entire star and killed an entire solar system of people because she got godly levels of bitchy isn’t someone they want walking around the world alone.”

A surprise voice chimed in, the man next to Joseph, the woman’s former brother-in-law, “She’s not like that.” Even the driver peeked back in the rear-view when Bailey spoke up, as the thin man with the crown of brown hair on a quickly balding head shifted slightly, realizing every eye in the vehicle was on him, now, before continuing, “…I lost the love of my life, my wife. I lost my children.”

There was a knife’s edge of emotion deep enough for Paul Bailey to lose himself in, but Bailey took a slow breath before speaking more, “I knew her parents. I knew every sister and brother. I knew every member of that family. None of them ever spoke of her like that—not even remotely. And I knew her, myself. She’s not like that, Deputy Director. I would have told those Shi’ar aliens the same thing when they murdered my family, and her’s, adult and child alike. I would have died too, had I not been working late that night. Whatever this Phoenix did, it wasn’t Jean Grey. My wife and our babies bet their lives on that. They killed them all anyway. Justice, they called it, I was told…I don’t know about this Shi’ar Empire, Deputy Director, but I should hope MY government, THEIR government, wouldn’t be so quick to assume the same horrible thing.”

The car slowed to a stop outside the four-story over-a-century-old red-brown brick building that shared the entire city block with the cement parking garage that acted as secondary parking for New York State government buildings in the area. The corner space of the old red-brown brick building was The Hollow, a bar and restaurant popular with both the state government employees from their state buildings surrounding the street and the lawyers from the US District Court just a block down the street, across the 797 Interstate that divided Albany from the riverfront of the Hudson. They stood outside on the sidewalk, staring into the backseat of the long, black, American-made SUV.

“…okay,” Greg Joseph said, nodding, “Let’s do this.” The tall, youthful, former college athlete of a Special Agent was out of the car, first, not saying a word, just opening the back passenger seat to let Paul Bailey out.

Bailey got out, immediately embracing the sister of his late-wife, and aunt of his late-children, Jean Grey. Joseph watched for a second, until he looked past the two, and saw the man still staring at him. The mutant, Greg Joseph corrected himself in his thoughts as he got out, putting on his best Sunday morning church of a smile. “Greg Joseph, Mutant Desk Chief,” he walked right up to Erik Lensherr, offering his hand, same as he always did, same as his daddy always taught him to do when meeting someone for the first time. Friendly, but respectful, firm. Same as he taught his son, he thought, as he looked at Paul Bailey and the woman, again.

“It’s okay.” Jean smiled at Paul, doubtless telepathic words passed between them as they stared at one another, Jean slipping her arm into Paul’s, pointing them down the sidewalk and heels clicking on pavement as the two started walking, towards the end of the city block, towards the car park, casting bright green eyes over her shoulder, at Magneto, then, to him. “Hello, Mr. Joseph. I hope we’re not keeping you too busy? Thank you for bringing Paul.”

He nodded, that Sunday church steps smile cemented on his features, the Texas in his accent as clear as the sunshine of the day, “Yes, Ma’am, one of the few times the Mutant Desk gets to do something so wholesome. We’ve been busy the past year since the uh…what do you call it? Birth of your nation?” He asked, not wanting to just call it ‘that Krakoa thing’, looking to the man keeping pace with Bailey and Grey next to him to answer the question, to Lensherr.

Marvel: Judgment Day

I'm just popping in to say I'm still pretty interested in this.

@Hey Im Jordan

Thanks!

We've gotten feedback Krakoa-only has been a difficult approach for people, so we're likely retooling this into a Marvel: Judgment Day game based on the AvXvE event of the past summer. Shouldn't effect who people picked to play, just giving everyone a wider scope and trying to make it a touch easier for those who've told us Krakoa, in isolation, was a high-learning curve.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Re-starting this next week. Let us know if you wish to continue/jump back in.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

Greg Joseph, CIA Deputy Director of Metahuman Operations

Word association Game!

Planet.

Marvel Comics: Dawn of X

The woman had arched a blonde brow as Jean Grey walked into the Grove, the scent of fall and freshly fallen rain mixing with the blonde’s perfume, Krakoa looming over them all, watching, leaves a brilliant reddish brown today. The metallic scent of the old man that stood behind her, watching as Jean approached, hit her last.

• --|A|-- •

Her mind instantly translated the Krakoan to what she had always known him as before: Apocalypse. That he was the first, the most notable, among so few mutants to change their names from what they had always been to a Krakoan language variant did not escape her, but there was time for curiosities between the blue giant and Jean.

“You’re going, I take it?”

Jean smiled a thin, bemused smile at Emma Frost. “What gave it away?”

Frost’s head tilted, as she took in the full view of the redhead, before blue eyes widened and her frosted lips looked to near gasp, “…my God, Jean Grey, is that a designer you’re wearing?”

The smile on Jean slipped, but the bemused look in her green eyes did not. It was a designer, though Jean refused to confirm that aloud, or even tell Emma which designer…not that Emma wouldn’t know it, already, knowing Emma Frost. She wore black; skinny black slacks, a thin black cotton V-neck sweater, her feet in black leather hiking boots with black steel tabs and black laces. The coat atop was a rich brown wool peacoat, her red hair long and straight, offering contrast between the black and rich brown.

”I would not recommend the Manhattan gates, Jean Grey.”

Jean blinked at Big Blue, surprised, “Surveillance?”

“Worse,” Frost sighed, a heavy, deflating thing that seemed to signal no end of annoyance within the White Queen, “those human cultists have only become more fervent. We’re concerned, well…”

”You are the Phoenix. You are the Mutant Alpha. They are fools, but they are not ignorant to who we are.”

Emma cringed, though otherwise ignored it, “Just…you’re going alone, we don’t want a scene…may I recommend the Capital District gate?”

“…there’s a gate in Albany?”

Emma smiled, and, once more, Jean was smiling back. Catty, playful, “Have fun, Jean.”

There was something Emma wasn’t telling her. Jean knew that because of her telepathy, but not because she was reading Emma. She knew from experience what Emma looked like when she was holding back, because she had seen the woman’s mind when she had done it before in the past to others. Shaw had “casually” asked Jean to explain the tell on Emma, but Jean could do nothing but disappoint Shaw. If you hadn’t seen Emma’s mind as an active observer, before, you just weren’t going to pick up any tells on the White Queen. Shaw had muttered something about telepaths before giving up.

Whatever it was, Jean was certain she could handle it. A nervous, anxious energy filled her as she left the Grove. It wasn’t whatever Emma kept to her chest; it wasn’t the Cult of X warning from Apocalypse. It was going home. She hadn’t been since the Phoenix held the entire area hostage, attempting to persuade Jean to stay in their union.

Instead, with Logan’s help, she ended the relationship as best she could and moved on. But that didn’t seem to count, to Jean. She had experienced it within the White Room, yet, still, the extermination of nearly her entire family; brothers, sisters, their little children haunted her. Going home meant experiencing it all anew, a feeling that pressed down on her as she let out a sigh and felt her booted feet leave Krakoa’s ground and her body slip into telekinetic flight, to expedite the trip to Carousel, where most of the gates to major population centers could be found. It was after clearing the canopy and descending that she saw the gate—and the figure next to it, awaiting her.

What are you playing at, Emma?

Her booted feet touched down just feet from the gate, and him. Green eyes regarded him softly, if curiously, “Hello, Max. You look dressed for a funeral.”