X-Men: A Bright New World (IC)

[Remec]

Madrox

Jamie rounded the corner of the building and saw Logan rather nonchalantly waiting. The older man walked over, and Jamie detected something a little off in his stride, but it remedied itself quickly. Once together, Logan reprimanded him, "Listen kid, next time I tell you to stick with somebody, you do that. That Cajun just got himself into trouble, charging into the building like some vigilante with a hard-on."

"But, he grabbed me and slammed me into a wall, told me to watch while he chose another entrance," Jamie managed to stammer without letting any sign of anger or whining creep into his voice. Logan seemed to accept the answer, but just went on with commentary that echoed what Jamie had felt and thought about Gambit's actions.

Just about then, a guy wandered up and looked the two of them over and asked of The Brazen Fox was closed.

"Titty bar?" Jamie repeated softly, half to himself. He had almost forgot exactly what sort of nightclub they were at and the thought--and images--of Alison dancing in such a place came to mind and made him sort of smirk. "Oh, yeah, it doesn't open up for hours. One of those night time joints instead of 24-hour girls."

 

[Lachiyous]

NYC - Rogue

Many Years Ago. [Undisclosed Location]

Most oft, whence. It happened, it'd be. In the midst, of a trek. Through slumberland. Interrupting, some. Dream, and. Replacing it, with. A nightmare. Time. Time and again. It -- that -- had been, on. Repeat. The same scene. The same vision. The same...doom. And, it. It very well, could. Not be, escaped. From. It was quite, telling. Actually. Because it affected the, all. Of them. Irene Adler could, just. Pluck the knowledge of it, from the future. With her precognitive abilities. Yet, the each and. The every, episode. Wherein, she experienced. The dread, of the doom. Ghastly expression; sunken eyes and lips parted...yet no sound ever. Was murmured. It chilled her, straight to her center. So much so, that she. Recoiled, in and. Unto herself. A little more, each. Time. Within her terrible mind. And the atrocities, that resided there. A craze was born. And thus, a lie. To cope and survive. That's the truth, but for now. For now. Hmm...let one, let all. Focus, on....the Southern Belle. Yes. And what, immeasurable hope. She represented. Turn the cheek, if one will....and she shan't disappoint...

Not if Irene and Raven could help it!
========================================================================
Several Years Ago.

Yes, Rogue....

She was really, a. Daughter, to Irene -- if one were to call the relationship that -- as much, as with. Raven. Though, less direct? More, so. In the background. Yet, present. And constant. The wispy, white. Hair, of the woman. She, was always. Just, there. And though, not. The chatter box, with the girl -- was anyone really? -- she seemed. As genuine, as. Could be. For a bit of a, blind eccentric.

But still...there was a soothe, to the. Woman, which could be. Explained. And perhaps, she didn't quite. Bond with her(or anyone for that matter), Rogue. Took comfort, in the individual's presence. Silent as it could, ever be.
========================================================================
Over One Year Ago.

Even apart, the girl. Played on the tip, of their tongues...

"What have you seen for her?"

"Pain. Excruciating pain. Her world -- everything she knows -- will come...CRASHING down--"

"How soon?"

"...a year shy. From her twentieth..."

"She's almost eighteen now. Are you sure?"

"Without a doubt."

"That's it then. It all leads to that....central event."

"Yes."
========================================================================
Now. [The World Trade Center. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

She received, the. Girl's smile, and. Hand squeeze. Apathetically. Back to business, it was. The clock was ticking!

"Follow me now, Rogue." Heels clicked, across. The Lobby floor, to the. North Tower, bringing. Both, ladies. To an Express elevator, location. But, before that. Facilities. Mystique paused, and stood. By the Ladies Room. Stark black eyes, observed. Her daughter coolly. "Inside the very last stall. There is a canvas gown bag. With a formal dress for you. Heels, earrings, makeup -- everything you need to look your best, for the 107th Floor and highest profiled restaurant anywhere around!" She waited for the expression, on the younger. Girl's face. "Window on the World....aren't you hungry?" she inquired with an amused look. "Oh. And keep that I.D. handy...just in case..."
========================================================================

 

[heartofcourage]

Betsy

Betsy stared at her captors with a stony expression on her face. She was angry, absolutely livid and it showed on her features. Not only were they pointing guns at her, but the man was smirking in the most condescending way. She had reached out to her team, but she knew that they could not help. Half a world away and those that were with her were in trouble.

She felt a strange sensation taking over her. It was like electricity pulsing across her skin. Her hands tingled, her jaw clenching a little tighter as she felt as if she could kill these men. She wanted to unleash something that was trapped deep within her.

'Laugh at me one more time.' She thought to herself, a strange purple glow starting to enclose her right hand. 'I dare you.'

 

[Lachiyous]

Eyes Open - Laura

Bleed. Bleed...the enemy. Bleed anyone, but oneself. And at the least, be. Highly proficient, at it. Do. Do it s'more. In fact. Never, for a second. Stop. When told. Bleed 'em dry....and just mayhaps, one shall be. Rewarded, with....

A new target.
A new target.
A new target.

And just mayhaps, one shall be. Rewarded, with...

SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhh!

Drip.

Drip.

Drip. Into...puddle, full of. Blood....
========================================================================
One Year Ago. [The Murder of Zebra Daddy. In NYC]

"Ah, you poor dear. Let me have a look at you. Was it really you that caused all of this fuss? Ick. You're all covered in blood. And reek of filth. Scott, darling. Give the unsanitary girl, a hand, would you?" <>Shh. Relax now little bird. Allow my voice to soothe your mind. That's it. Now, dream...<>
========================================================================
Weeks Later. [The Frost Academy. In Snow Falls, Massachusetts]

Dream? In a world, of. Constant -- no, monotonous -- grays. Of obedience, and. Usefulness. Not to mention, the rare. Occasion, of. Unrelinquished, untapped. And, untamed. Blood rage, yes. Red...was that the ONLY 'color', she. Could see, ever? And at that, infrequent? There had, never. Been, the slightest of. Concern, for anything. Not in relation. To her aptitude, for. Death. She, was an assassin, after all. Who, in their right mind. Cared about facets, that didn't focus. On making her KILL, more. Effectively? Why would anyone, have a right. The slightest inkling. To give pause, to her. Humanity? DID it even exist? Did she have, any the. Resemblance of...humanity? What....what could such, even mean....to the likes of her. All these years later? Was...was she even, able....to function. Properly, outside of a 'cage'. Living, breathing....in society? Could she talk. Could she walk. Could she eat and breathe....and BE NORMAL, if only for a moment.....uhm.....or....or.......or was Laura now, and forever. The lost, of a cause. Throw her, away. In the trash. It would not be worth it?

It was....always. Interesting, how life worked these things. Out. And who or what, bright spot. Could, come. Flashing in, when. Unexpected....
========================================================================
About Three Months Ago.

<>Are you hurt? Is there anything that I can d--<>

Gasp! Unfamiliar...voice. Instinct, kicked in. SNIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCKKKKKKKKTTTTTTTTTTTTT! Claws, at the ready...

"No, no. Heyyy. It's okay. I'm a friend. My name is Jean. Jean Grey."

Blink. Blink. Huh?

"I'm here to help. You have my word..."

Blink. Blnk. Blink. What? Mouth, slightly. Agape...

"I'm sorry for entering your mind like that. I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I'm just here visiting. Emma told me a little about you. You're Laura, right?"

"......" Friend? Help?

"Are you all right? Take my hand....let me help you up...." The lady, with the. Hot-red ringlets of hair, and. Sparkling green irises, gave upon. Laura, something she. Was again. Unprepared, for. That of an, all encompassing. Warm smile, the likes of which. Lit up, her whole face!

DUMMMBBBBB-foundednessssssss ss s s. Zoink. Zoink. Blink, blink's? Bright spot, bright spot. WHO was this person, really?
========================================================================
Thursday. Earlier in the Morning.

"...the likes of which, will take me out of town. And keep me away for two days. Scott will act as Interim Leader. Until I return. No, Alex. I will hear NONE of it. End of conversation. Now then, behave my Hellions. And I may just have...a surprise for you, when I get back..."

But. She was all ready, out the. Door, as the video monitor. With the Headmistress, yammered on. The more. Quiiiiiiiiiiiiickly, slinking off. The bit of a habit, and in practice. The registered, of. Something, other than. Nothing, inside of her. Which....for the most of her life. Could very well, be. Fascinating...

After, hitching a ride. To the Airport. And, easily, throwing herself. Amidst freight and cargo, as. A stow-away. Natural, as breathing. Especially, with her. Skill set. As, had this. Little ride -- this experience. Become for her. Time upon time. Again and again. She couldn't help it, couldn't help. Herself. Something. Something about...this person. Which. Which was...nothing like she'd ever seen. In all her life.

And she couldn't get, nearly. ENOUGH of it. Not even close. Not by a long shot.
========================================================================
Almost Seven Hours Later. Late Afternoon. Now. [London, England]

Pretty. Pretty soon. Would be there, pretty soon. And then, she would be able. To 'see' her, once again. Laura would be able to, watch. The one with the sun kissed, red. Hair, and the emerald eyes. The one with the warmest of all smiles. She'd able to see...

One. Jean Grey....at least, from a distance!
========================================================================

 

[SinisterSpiders]

Jean Grey

Thursday afternoon...

Jean watched as Sebastian's car rolled out of the elaborate gates of his estate. She let out a sigh of relief as the sound of gravel gave way to silence. She looked around the large entrance hall, eyes scanning the familiar marble floors and fine artwork.

Despite the millions of thoughts that raced through her mind when she heard the cry of distress, Jean made her decision almost immediately. Working for Sebastian came with a strange sense of independence; compared to her time at Frost Acdemy she was an adult and she was free. However, she wasn't daft enough to think that she wasn't watched.

Now that he was gone she would be able to spend some time away from the mansion, but she knew it wouldn't be long before her absence would be noticed. There were butlers and cleaners that were under Sebastian's thrall, and there was no doubt that his other associated would be visiting the manor.

Turning on her heel, Jean swept up the stair case and followed the familiar route to the roof. As long as she'd been with Shaw at his London mansion, this had been her refuge. During the nights where she could not sleep (of which there were many) she made her way to the roof with a torch and a book. Under the stars she was free to truly lose herself in the stories she read; her every attention channelled by the dark into the words on the pages in front of her.

This time though, she had no intention to read or relax. When she stepped through the door and onto the bright sun lit roof. It startled her for a moment, her eyes snapping shut at the sun seared into them. When she opened her eyes again she blinked away the black spots in her vision and looked around.

There, beneath the shiny black tiles of attic roof. She walked across the roof until she reached the tiles in question. With a paranoid look over her shoulder, even though she knew there was no one there, she tugged at the corners of one tile until it slid out of place. Beneath it, strapped to the wooden eaves of the roof below, was a small black bag. Using her telekinesis she unstrapped the bag and levitated it up. She opened it, heart fluttering with a sense of excitement, and was relieved to see the money within. Enough cash to get her to where ever it was that she needed to go. She had spent years squireling it away. So, over the years, she had over withdrawn her own cash, small amounts at a time. Small amounts that were easily overlooked as an extra cup of coffee or enough money for a magazine. Now, even though she had some money in a bank account, she wouldn't need to tap into such traceable funds until she really needed to. It would hopefully buy her enough time to do what she needed to do and then to get back to the mansion before Shaw noticed her absence.

Jean stopped for a moment, she closed her eyes and concentrated all of her senses.

<>This whole thing has gone pear shaped, Logan.<>

She remembered the despondency, the disappointment. The hope that Logan could bring. Whoever Logan was. She let the memory wash over her, as well as the sense of where it came from.

East.

Clutching the bag of money to her chest with both arms she used her abilities to replace the tile in the roof. She turned and fled the roof. She would throw some clothes into her backpack and then set out.

East.

It was a vague direction, she knew that, but as soon as she started moving she would be able tap into her memories, tap into the streams of consciousness all around her.

There was someone out there that needed help. Someone out there who had the abilities to call across the distance.

 

[DeathsKnight]

Logan

He turned towards the newcomer, something was strange about him, not that he looked strange, he smelled strange. Like violence. Like there was an altercation not to long before his arrival. But there was no tell-tale signs, no adrenaline, no elevated heart-beat, no increase in respiration...

He cocked his head slightly, the overall effect was that this person could handle himself. Perhaps...just perhaps...well they were down now to just Madrox and himself, the Cajun had definitely gone in and not come out yet, the rest of the group was in trouble and Blondie was most definitely not able to help them now...most likely the reason the Cajun went batshit crazy.

"Say bub, you from around here?"

 

[AnyOtherName]

Laura

Thursday Afternoon.

That scent.

X-23 could distinctly detect the individual components of it: could name the fragrances, list the products Jean used (she was most fond of the other woman’s choice in shampoo and conditioner)... but to describe the effect of it was something of a mystery. There was a warmth to it. Not as one might attribute the word to amber or orange blossom; it wasn’t the scent, itself. Rather, it was a figurative rise in Laura’s chest in response to filling her senses with that particular smell, knowing that she was near.

There hadn’t been a doubt in X-23’s mind as to whether or not she could find Jean Grey. In fact, the task was underwhelming, if anything. But. That was a product of what X-23 was, the extensive training that she had received…that and, well. Laura wasn’t conducting an international search, even if she had crossed the Atlantic Ocean. She knew the other woman to be at Sebastian Shaw’s estate in London, had no reason to suspect she would have strayed too far. And as she approached the target location she was not disappointed.

She was a mile off from the manor when she caught the scent. Jean had to have been outside; perhaps on a terrace or balcony. Quite unlike herself, X-23 had not acquainted herself with a floor plan of the place she was visiting; old habits die hard but the woman was trying to act less like an assassin and more like a person. Point being: she knew not how it was that Jean’s scent carried so easily on the gentle breeze but assumed some height might be part of the exposure.

Sometime during X-23’s approach the sweet aroma faded. Assumably because Jean had gone back inside. It encouraged Laura to move a little faster, either with the assumption that she was less likely than before to be detected or because the sudden withdrawal was like any other: making her crave more. Whatever the case, the woman found her way quickly to the walled perimeter of Shaw’s estate.

X-23 didn’t scale, or even approach, the wall right out. Again, being unfamiliar with the design of the estate…she took a moment to simply study. There’d be some sort of security, she imagined. And so the woman kept her distance, making absolutely certain that no cameras were on the outside perimeter – or, if there were, finding a way to circumvent them.

Convinced that she had found an uncompromised route, the woman was up and over the ten foot partition in no time. A running start and a jump had been enough to get her fingers over the edge of the brick structure; with a few upward strides and the pull of her arms, the woman was soon falling towards the ground on the other side. Or diving. Whatever the maneuver might be called, it was obviously intentional, and the woman tuck-and-rolled upon hitting the ground. Ever approaching the manor, X-23 used the natural and artificial décor of the grounds to conceal her presence from security cameras and personnel as she hopped from one location to another. Naturally, the expanse of the territory led X-23 to the gardens, where there was ample cover.

She watched the windows of the main building. More specifically, she took note of which rooms were illuminated and considered potential means of gaining line of sight. But as she thought of climbing a conveniently placed tree, her nostrils flared with a rush of her target’s scent.

She’s not your target, Laura reminded herself.

But…what else could she be?

The prospect of approaching Jean never even occurred to X-23. Instead, she scanned the area for surveillance, mindfully avoiding such as she made her way closer (at least enough so as to catch a glimpse of Jean). From a distance she’d observe the other woman, curious as to what she might be doing. Or where she might be going, it seemed, as the red head appeared to have packed a bag…

 

[Remec]

Sam/Cannonball -- Russia

The lack of response from Logan or anyone back at the Xavier school was only to be expected. As far as Sam knew, the signal strength of their devices had not been tested over such global distances, he knew nothing about the technical qualities of such things--his interests in hardware was mostly limited to fast cars and such machinery as was useful around a farm or mine. It was what his family did for a living, mostly, such as it was these days.

Sam was concerned, however, at not hearing anything mentally back from Betsy. Maybe her and Kitty had problems the way Ah have. They might have even vanished like Theresa and Wanda. Sam Guthrie decided he needed a better course of action.

<<Betsy? If you're still listening, I'm going to try and give these guys the slip. Look for me in that line of foothills and forest to the north of the what we think was the Rasputin farm.>>

After sending out his message, Cannonball dropped in a deep swooping dive and pulled in his blasting field close around his body until he was down within the tightest cluster of enemies below him. Once he was in their midst, he allowed the field to rapidly expand and throw them all about the fields.

Then he was off into the sky once more, up and speeding as fast he had ever managed to go in all his training runs. Leaving them all behind and trying to disappear into the trees and over the nearest short ridge. Once out of sight, he cut sharply to his left and sped along for several minutes before landing and shutting down the power.

Hope that's a good enough lead. Now to find a place to hide...maybe there are caves nearby.

 

[Felix80]

"Say bub, you from around here?"

Sgt. Kieros looked the two other men over. One was a pretty boy with classical good looks who looked like he'd be going for distance with his cookie toss after a single punch. The other guy was short, but had the same look about him that Abe had developed in the corps, the same attitude the guys who volunteered for a fourth tour had. He wasn't looking for trouble, he was expecting it and he was ready for it.

Generally speaking warriors don't like each other much at first. Other fighters are a threat that need to be assessed. Until that threat gets assessed they remain wary.

"What gave me away?" Abe asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "the ditty bag or the dog tags? Sgt. Kieros, marines. You serve?"

Jack waited for his answer then pointed toward the titty bar. "You know, for a closed place that's a pretty loud alarm going off. You think there might be trouble?"

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

In times. Times of, the. Toughest. In places, wherein. Hope, it was but. The most, fleeting. Please, dear. Goddess. Anything, anyone. Could, some miracle. Could, some force. Could a being, of. Heroic proportions, save. All, in so. The dire, necessity. From, crime. From, society. From, life. And....the whole of. Hmm. Negativity.

Yes. Sometimes. The only, thing. That was, required. A hero.....

But. But, could that. Should that. Would that...be just, anyone? Was...a person, of. Any, kind. Capable. Did he, or she. Have the, potential. No matter, the. What? Even...even....even if THEY, knew. Not?

What, really. MADE a hero? Because, some people. May not be, so. Fortunate, without. The likes, of one....
========================================================================
The Manyment of Years Ago. [The French Quarter. In New Orleans, Louisiana]

In.

The Store, any. One, picked. Customers, merchandise. A business, like any. Other. Worker, bees. Drones, even. Unassuming, and. Unprepared. For sleight of hand. Tactics...

Out.

No pause. No respite.

In.

And, across. The market, place. Fruit, veggies. Bread, too. Delicious, if. One were, even. Hungry. Tapped a shoulder. Bumped, unto. Another, the person. Created, a. Potential, commotion. Then off, with. That handbag. And...

Out.

No sweat. No fear.

In.

....and....

Out.

All morning.

In.

....and....

Out.

All afternoon.

In.

....and....

Out.

All day.

This, then. The accumulated, spoils. Of a little, adolescent. Barely a teenage, boy. A prominent member, of. Some, the. Powerful Thieves' Guild. A day, in the life. Of young...Remy LeBeau.
========================================================================
A Few Years Later(Five Years Ago). [New Orleans, Louisiana]

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffffffttt!

Hazel eyes, unfettered. Bore, unto him. In complete, titillation. "You not jus' woo'ing de lady now. Really mean it? Leave dis place. De 'ere and de now? Jus' de us?"

Took her hand, to. Hold, his. Smoldering reds, never. Left, her. Face. "Dats right, chere. Dis night. Sneak out. 'Way. Never 'ave t'look back, de no more. 'Ave de world. Partenaires, you an' Remy now. 'Member?"

Her auburn hair, cascaded. Over her face, shielding her, from him. When she turned. "Is dat all, dis girl is. To de most charming Remy LeBeau -- a 'PARTNER'?"

He was, quick. To tend, to her. Wounded pride. "Celeste, ain't de no one. Could claim dis beating 'eart. Like you...."

She heard, his words. But needed, for him. To...finish, the. Sentiment. "Yes...?"

"Remy...love you. De very much."

"W'at was dat? Couldn't 'ear you...."

"Ah, you jus' tryin' be. Diff'cult now...eh?"

She folded her arms, stuck her. Nose up. Completing, the. Pout...

"Fine. Fine. Said...Remy LOVE you, chere!"

"Oh mon amour!" Melting, she jumped into his arms. And kissed him. That would settle it, then. They would, turn their. Backs, on. Everything, 'they'. Knew. And, leave. Family. Friends. And the, both. Of their, rival. Factions...

Behind. For a new, life. A new, chance. A new, possibility. For....

Hope?
========================================================================
Over Three Years Ago. [Somewhere. In the Old World of Europe]

<>You did good. Bringing him to me. Now you will. BOTH. Work for me. Remember, where you've come from....'Celeste'. And don't. Get cozy. Your next assignment is coming up...<>
========================================================================
Almost One Week Ago. Friday Late Night. [Alison Blaire's Apartment. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

Not, not very. The, long. Ago. The two, of. Them. Him, and. Her. Them. Why, they...

Shared a moment. More than one, actually. Of...intimacy. A closeness, a. Bond, of which. Well...it connected, the. One, to the. Other. And in, more. Than one, way. And as the air, entered. Her being, causing her. Chest, to. Rise. Rise, and fall. He couldn't. Quite. Put, his. Figurative...finger, upon. It...

Something. There, had been. Something, about this. Woman. This, female. Individual. This...person. Which, called out. To him. In the alley, the. Earlier. During her. Her time of need. It's true. For all accounts, he. Saved her, life. Tonight. Which, of it. Self, was. A first, for him. He'd NEVER, done. The any, a. Thing, like that. Before. Why? Why now? Why tonight? Why her?

Blond locks. Blue eyes. NO. Beyond, any of that....

"There's a professor out in Westchester. He...has a school for the gifted.." She'd whispered to him. It was, because. Of the display, that. Gambit, had. Put on, for. Her, in the. Rescue. She saw, his. Powers. More importantly, she. Too, was a. Mutant...

Alison Blaire was a mutant. Like, himself. Could that, in anyway. Have explained. What he did. Why, he did? He'd never. Not once, in his. Existence. Walked, on the. Side of angels. Before. So...so. There was, definitely. SOME element. SOME aspect. SOMEthing, to this. Girl, which. Prompted him. Into. Acting, the part. Of...

Hero.

As his red irises, flickered. Within the, wee. Hours of, this. Night. Remy LeBeau, felt. The ever, so. Slightly. Unnerved, by this. Prospect.

Matters, of the. Heart, and the. Spirit, so entwined...
========================================================================
Thursday Evening. Now. [Inside the Second Floor, of The Brazen Fox. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

She had, led. Him, back. To this, place. Not entertainment. Not luxury. It was, her. Employment. And she'd been, avoiding. It -- all aspects -- for almost, one. Week's time! One, didn't. Just, do something like that. Not when, people. Other co-workers. Upper management. Very, very rich clients. Were EXPECTING, one's -- her -- presence. She had, known. Better. And yet, she got caught. Up. In the, world. Away, from. Reality.

With Jamie, with. Logan. Some of, the. Others, at the School. Not, in the least. Were, dear Charles. And her, very own. Hero, in Remy.

But, no. But, yes. It was time. It was PAST, time. To take care, of. Her employment. She'd wanted to. Sever the ties. Do something, along. Those lines, an amicable. Way. Even if she, realized. Deep down, that. A contract, she'd signed. To go above and beyond. Would disallow. Any and all, such. Forms of, termination.

And it, immediately. Was the visual, notice. Of her, disappearance. Which had, thrown him. On red alert, of sorts. Hazing the, better. Of his judgement, and. Common sense. And propelling him, to. Act, out. On some, heavysome. Emotional, instinct.

What should, have. Been quite, the. Walk in the park, break in. Turned out, instead. To be, an. Alarming situation. All....because....he. Wasn't, careful. Unless, he. Too, had something. Else, up his. Sleeve?

BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeep
BeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeepBeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Cla-click. Cla-click. Click. Click. Click.

Hands, still. Raised, up. In front of, the. Five armed, individuals. Before him..."Gambit don' want no trouble. T'ink it best. Do as you say, non?" He nodded, to them each. And the one, initially. Speaking, nodded in return. Motioning to his, 'team'. To bring, their newfound. Prisoner, as instructed. Down to the, main. Floor.

The main floor. The interior, and business portion. Of the club. Strip Club. If and, the. Falling, paint chips. Off the, entrance. Door. And grafitti, splotched. Around, some. Didn't give, any. Indication, on the joint. Inside, wasn't. The, much more. Spectacular. But then, since. When would, such. Compliments, be associated. With....a place, such as. This...

The Brazen Fox.

Those, that sought. Out. This, type. Of locale. Were more, likely. Interested, in the. Entertainment, aspect. Pointedly, the dancers. The allure. The magic. The one-on-one. Relationships, that. Could, upon. EVER, be. Born. Within these, type of. Walls. Endless possibilities. The girls, to. Work, their mojo. And the 'customers'. The clients. Kept on, coming back. For more. Always. Rumors, also. Of, some. Very, high-profile. Business men, receptive. Of house calls...

At this time, normally. An hour before, the door. Opened. The inside crew, would. Be gearing, up. For the night, to come. The girls, would be. Preparing, their. Ensembles. Bartender, disc jockey, everyone. Together, to make it. A successful night. With, teamwork. Like any, other. Business. On, any other. Night.

But. Tonight, was not. Any. Other!

Per instruction, the very large bouncer. At the front, door. Nodded, at what. Could have only, been. Passed onto him, over his. Ear piece. Turned his attention. To the three, before him. "Yer in luck. Got clearance. Now getcher butts in'ere. 'Fore I change my mind!" With that, he moved. His mass, aside. And pushed, the likes. Of the short, stout. Man, along. With the two. Younger, individuals. Inside, of the entrance. And into, the building.

The barely lit, dark. Atmosphere, readily. Overtook, the visual. Modality. The little hallway, spilled. Out, into the. Main room. And the tone. Instantly. Was, the mite. Ominous. In the center, of the room. Was the stage, for. The performer(s), with. One, big. Lone, pole. Standing, vertical. Upon it.

Yet no one, was up there.

Neon green, red. And blue. Lights, twitched. On. On and off. Sporatically, throughout.

There was, no music on. In fact, it was. Kind of....quiet. (The alarm must have been, turned off. But when?)

Chairs, tables. Most, if not all. Of the, furniture. It....almost. Hm. Appeared, as if. It had been, shoved. Aside, for---

Squint. BlinkBlink. WAIT. Was that a...person, over there. By the, wall. T-tied up? And...

Straaaiiinn. Blink. Another one, right there. On the, other side. It was...a. A woman. A buncha women. Gasp. The dancers?

If one, were to. Notice, even. Be able to, acknowledge. Escorted, over. From the, far. Side of the, room. The Cajun, in the. Company, of. Five, men. Then...

Suddenly, all together. Out of the woodwork. And, in sync.

Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Deafening. Were those....guns? The barrels, yes. Most, now. Pointed, at the. Three, 'strangers'(four, including Gambit). The others, had. Their attention, all ready. Upon. The Club's staff. Including the, girls...

Loudly, a lady's voice. Pierced through, the. Non-verbal commentary, in. Unadulterated mania. "Goooooooood morning, Vietnam! Hey, this is not a test! This is rock and roll! Time to rock it from the Delta to the D.M.Z.!" Accompanied by, a record. Slide.Slide.Sliiiiiiiiding its, way. On, and playing. Immediately.

Flock of Seagulls. Brought to all, courtesy of....

Who in the HELL--?
========================================================================

 

[KattDclaw]

It was just another job, or so it should have been. An easy job too, plucking a pretty little thing up for someone with too much money and not enough spine to do it themselves. It was just up her alley, she liked money, a girl had to eat, right? She also needed some bullets, and maybe more plastic explosives, could anyone really ever have enough plastic explosives. Food was good too, yeah, she could certainly good for some pizza, maybe wings…or tacos! Wait, getting ahead of yourself there, missy. Focus here. Right, the job.

It was suppose to go easy but the ‘boss’ forgot to mention one little thing. The bitch had super powers! Totally unfair, if anyone asked here. They didn’t. But it wasn’t as if she wasn’t prepared and hell, it turned out to be some fun! The chicky put up a good fight, she was a feisty little minx, but in the end her Kung-Fu just wasn’t good enough. Huah! That was enough of a distraction to well…distract her. For some reason the ‘boss’ thought she needed a handful of mooks with semi-auto weapons to tag along. What was the point of drops that many G’s? With that much firepower they could have taken the flashy little chick down, maybe. It woulda been fun to watch, at least. Maybe she should have just let them do it, oh well, there was always next time.

So far, the job was taking way too long, which had an unfortunate side-effect. She got bored. Nothing good ever happened when she got bored. She should have just snatched up the girl, put the scare in a few people and made off. Bing, bang, boom. Money paid and everyone was happy all around, well except for the kidnapped hooker. Stripper. What’s the difference? Quality varies, I’d say. Anyway, the whole gang was here, getting ready to open The Brazen Fox for business. So why not join in on the fun? After all she had some moves herself, along with the mad skills to be a killer DJ, so why not? It wasn’t every day that she had the chance to work it at a strip club, just wait till the fans got a load of this! So the whole group was gathered up, if only to listen to her interpretation of good music, which was questionable at best. Just ask. It’s fucking horrible. Journey? Really? Shut the fuck up, hooker. Stripper.

But that was when things really got interesting! There was a chatter on the walkie talkies, a break in, an alarm going off and then that weird smartphone she nabbed off her mark started going off all at once. Jiminy Jilikers! And here she thought this was going to be a boring ass job. The mooks caught whoever broke in and were ready to off him without another thought. Where the fuck was the fun in that? No, no, she wanted him down here where they party was. Maybe he’d appreciate her sick beats. This again. Foreigner isn’t exactly hip, ya’know. But wait! There’s more! A few more shitheads wanted in and they weren’t the normal sleazy businessmen waiting to get off to plastic titties. Why not? Five more to the party wasn’t going to kill the vibe, after all the rest were just terrified what with all the gun pointing, death threatening, and plastic explosives. Oh yeah, lots of plastic explosives. It was always Plan B, almost Plan A, but she had a feeling the ‘Boss’ didn’t want the stripper delivered in a bucket.

The trio was allowed in, escorted even to the main room with the center stage alit with flashing lights. There were a few red lights flickering here and there, dimly lit in the otherwise dark interior. The stage was sadly empty, the lovely dancers that should have been gyrating and sliding up and down the pole were huddled in the corner with more than a few guns pointed their way. They looked so cute with that terrified look on their painted faces. Just want to pinch those cheeks. The real fun was sitting up at the raised DJ’s booth, with the DJ huddled in the corner with a familiar terrified look in his face, might have something to do with the C4 vest he was forced to wear. And there she stood, the focus of this little encounter, with the DJ’s headphones snuggly fit over her head and her fingers eagerly pressing buttons and turning knobs.

Who was she? Well her name was Kat Wilson, but she went by the name Deadpool. And what a sight she was up there, in her skin-tight bodysuit of red and black, complete with full facemask and her two swords strapped across her back in an X. The headphones just made the picture, really. She snatched up the mic and gave it a sharp tap, the muffled thump echoing about the room before she brought it to her covered mouth.

"Goooooooood morning, Vietnam! Hey, this is not a test! This is rock and roll! Time to rock it from the Delta to the D.M.Z.!" The voice that came forth was obviously feminine, though it had a gnawing, irritating nature to it, kind of like nails on a chalk board. Then came the tunes, something fitting for the moment. Fitting? Uh, I give up.

“Welcome to The Brazen Fox. I’ll be yer host for the evening. Remember to tip your waitress! She gets paid shit. OH SHIT! You guys didn’t tell me we have celebrities showin’ up! Well, at least one.” She deftly leapt up onto the DJ’s booth, standing tall and proud upon the raised stage, a commanding presence.

“Hey! Wolverine! Can I get your autograph? Oh! Or a selfie with you?!” She almost squealed the words with excitement; the noise could make milk curdle.

 

[DeathsKnight]

Logan

The door opened and a pair of goons came out, "Gentlemen, you are needed inside. It seems like a partner of your's have lost his way to the gents." Logan took a drag on his cigar and blew out the smoke, he knew that these two were not really a threat. He turned his attention to the new-comer, "Actually it was the 'tags and how you walk." He gave a slight grin and headed to the open door, "Come along kid." As they entered the club, they walked passed the reception area, practically just a counter with bullet-proof glass, then into the bar area where the action is supposed to be going, but instead the girls was all huddled into a corner and then a quite familiar voice started talking over the speakers.

Aw crap not HER! Logan exhaled a cloud of smoke, "Deadpool. What the hell are you doing here?" This was not good at all, especially not with her around, of course he knew what Madrox could do, he knew what he could do, but even though the new guy seemed quite capable and ready for anything, Logan had no idea what the man could do. He took a drag on his cigar, "You grabbed the young girl." A statement, with her here, it explained Allison's sudden disappearance, "Why?"

 

[Remec]

Jamie was about to open his mouth and add to the conversation, even if it seemed like it might have been a rhetorical question, the stranger had begun with him and Logan when the door opened. He eyed the guys who had come out with the bouncer and almost turned to look to the older man when he felt the nudge of an elbow.

Logan made his way past Jamie with a simple, "Come along kid," spoken around his seemingly ubiquitous cigar. He stepped through the darkened doorway and Jamie gave a shrug and sighed as he followed behind.

His eyes adjusted to the difference between outside and inside within a couple of steps, and by time they were in the main house--with frightened dancers and a semi-out-of-commission DJ--Jamie could see just fine. He quietly took in how many of the goons there seemed to be within sight and looked about for what might be the easiest way to trigger his power should it become necessary. Then shifted his eyes to Logan when heard the man's gruff voice speak to the woman manning the DJ booth.

She seemed almost ninja-like in her armor and mask, sword handles jutting up from the back, but not like any actual ninjas Jamie had ever read or heard about. And the face mask hid any details of what she looked like, although the fit of her costume showed off how well her body seemed to be built.

"Someone you know?" he said.

 

[Felix80]

Abe followed the other two into the Titty club. He did come here to see some titties after all, and if he had to tag along with tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum to get in than so be it.

He hadn't been surprised the shrimp had recognized him as a warrior by his walk. It was different than it had been in high school. Abe walked with purpose now, confidence, and an attitude that comes from surviving combat. The shrimp was being cool about things, so Abe was playing it cool as well. No need to start a fight over nothing.

Unfortunately the club owners did not agree with him.

Fifty men with guns came out of the woodwork, all of those guns now pointing at Abe. Last month he would of been worried. But that was last month.

"Be ready to get down and make a run for the door," Abe whispered as the shrimp spoke to the psycho-chick he called Deadpool. She called him Wolverine. Might as well be call signs or nicknames.

Abe took a step forward, butting himself between the other two and the bullets. Their grasp of tactics was poor, but then, they didn't know what they were facing. Two snaps his fingers and hecould clear the room. He just hoped they weren't dumb enough to shoot at him.

"I am a US Marine," Abe said, raising his voice to sound like his drill instructor, "You have taken American citizens hostage. You will lower your weapons and release them, or I will kill you. You have three seconds to comply before I rain down hell."

He raised one hand, fingers ready to snap. "Three."

 

[SinisterSpiders]

Jean Grey

The first step was the hardest. Until that point Jean had not committed herself to any decision. To stay or to go; either option was fraught with possibilities. As she stuffed her money into her bag and slung it over her shoulder the near future was full of vague visions; fuzzy ideas of where she could be headed, unclear pictures of the woman that had called for help, a somewhat clearer impression of what it would be to remain where she was.

But Jean had been doing the same thing for too long. She had been following orders for too long. That cry of distress, that was something different, something genuine. There was someone out there, someone that might be like her, and they were in trouble. She could make a real difference there. And not only for the woman that had sent the message across the globe.

Getting in the taxi was a simple manner. It was stepping on to the plane that was the hard part. Once she boarded that plane and crossed the sea there would be no going back. She had to commit herself in that moment, she had to give herself wholly to her course of action.

So, when Jean settled into the uncomfortable airport seat she let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes.

Then, she felt something unexpected. A familiarity. Something she had felt before.

It was a consciousness, brushing up against her own. It was close. Much closer than it should have been.

Though Jean didn't bother looking around. It had happened before; she always seemed to turn up at the strangest moments. She was also very good at hiding. If her psychic signature hadn't given her away Jean would never have notice. So instead of trying to track her down, trying to see where she was sitting and to ask her intentions, she would wait. She had already given herself to this course of action, she would not let Laura's presence dissuade her now.

 

[Lachiyous]

Russia - Betsy

Clunk. Clunk. The taxi cab, chugged. The furtherment. Off, road. And through. As, had been. Somewhat, rocky. Brush, landscape. A little less, plentiful. Than, whence she first. Entered, the Siberian. Environment. If and, one. She, were. To have, been. Taking notice. Then again....

Betsy's, been. Occupied, at the least. Right? The natives, looked. Only, to. Meet. Meet and greet, the English-American woman. With, but the. Most inviting, of. Transportational, services -- yes, she was to be. Picked up, and driven. Like the mite of, a. Princess, to and fro. Of course, there was the. Other side, of the coin.

She had been, quite frankly. Kidnapped. By strangers. Three men. And they, knew. Of her. Did...did they, know. All of them, too? Her team mates? Her fellow, X-Men? If so, how. How in the world, could that. Have been, possible? Just who were...these people? What exactly was she -- they -- dealing with? And why, if anything. Why, was it. Any of it. Happening, to her. To any, of them?

There. In her mind. The pull. Like a beacon, almost. Essence, of one. A presence. Well, at least. A calling. And from....Sam. He was, communicating. With her. Sending her, information. Could she, be receptive enough. Of him. Here. Now. At this moment. Because...

That, sensation. Which she, was. Experiencing. The tingling. Electricity. The purple glow, encasing. Her right, hand. The--

Bump. Bump. Swiiiirve...

--anger, she. Felt. Toward the, situation. To her, captors. It was...palpable. It was, real. And pretty soon. Well, pretty soon. It could be, something. More! Un. Aware, and. Un, hindered(her right hand, by her side, toward the passenger door and out of sight). The two men, continued. Keeping her, restrained. The one in front, turned. His weapon, pointed right before. Her pretty face. The one in back, still. A hold, on her left. Arm. And jabbing, her ribs. With something else. They hadn't, let. Up. Nor, it seemed. Were they going, to. Give her, the much. Of any, lee. Way.

"Мы почти на месте." piped the driver. Was it her, or did. He, seem. Pleased as punch?
========================================================================

 

[Lachiyous]

Russia - Sam

The excitement. The adventure. The brisk, cool air. That, Siberia. Provided, why...that was. Enough, in and by. Itself. To wake one, up. And make 'em, feel. Alive. So much so, if not. For the chill, in the. Cheeks, and. Tip of, the. Nose. And, when one -- he -- could see. One's own, breath. Visible....that was always, a. Delight! Most especially, in. Summer! The pounding, of the. Heart. Mm, indeed. It was, splendid. A spectacular treat. Nothing better, than. Being. Alive! It beat some, Kentucky life. Back at home, with the. Family, at the good. Ol' mines. And mundane, life. No. This was, much. Different, for Sam Guthrie. This was, what an. X-Man's regime, was. All about. This was--

ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP! ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

D-dodge. SWIVEL. Oh, right. X-Man. Danger. Mission. LASERS! From the, down. Below. The situation, came. Crashing back, to him. Perhaps, the. Despair, of it. All. And, not. Hearing one, peep. From anyone, anywhere. Anyhow. He flew. He dodged. As he, had. Been doing, and still. The nothing. From afar, from nearby. Was the Southerner, on his. Own? Was he, by his lonesome? Potentially abandoned?

By Theresa.
By Wanda.
By Kitty.
By Betsy.

Hm. Four...female....individuals. Just, up. Up and left. Up and vanished. Up and disappeared. Up! And, stopped....communicating with him. Is that NOT, the. 'Nough, of a. Sign? Companions. Team mates. But truly, four. Of the fairer, sex. Was it, something. Then, that he said? Was it, something. That, he didn't say? One or two girls, that's. Perhaps, one thing. But, ALL four? That's a pattern, yes? So....what exactly, did he. Do, to the each. Of them? Because, clearly. Something was up. Why upon, ever. Else, would they. Be, gone. Right?

And still, he. Clung, to the idea. That, at the least. One, if not more. Of them, were out there(let one put aside, the missing Russian for the moment). And at that, he sent. A message, via. His thought processing, to the. Telepathic Betsy, in blind. Hopes, and possible. Prayers, that the. Woman, would. And could, heed. Him, and. Be receptive, to. All, and. Any, of which. He conveyed....

ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

A dip, to a. Dive, and he. Was off! Smashing his way, through. The swarm. The locals. The enemy. Igniting, himself. A path. Back. Up, up. And, away! From this. From them. From it all....

And, around. Though, the landscape. Near, where he. Had just, been. Was dry, er. Much, more. Sparse, in. Flora, and. Wildlife. If not, completely. Lacking. Due, mostly. Visibly. From the blackened. Ash, covered. Remains, of. Burnt earth? Here, where he. Had, flown over. To. Well, there. Was, a little. More life. Some greens. Something, which hadn't been. A moment, the two. Ago. Sprouts of grass. Couple of shrubs. Some pine, trees. Stacked, up. The rolling, hills. As they, ascended. Along the, ridge. Before him. Heck, it even. Smelled, a little more. Fresh, over here. But maybe, that was. Just, his. Imagination, playing. Tricks on himself...

If anything, it. Was. Peaceful. Peaceful, and. Quiet...
========================================================================

 

[NekoMata]

Rouge hated formal attire. Something about the stuffy outfits just made her feel odd. Still it was for a mission so for now she would have to place her own comfort second. Changing out of her black pants and turtleneck she pulled on the long dress with its emerald green bodice and lightweight emerald dovetailed skirt. At least the outfit was well suited to her fashion. Along with the dress she found a pair of black silky gloves. Unstrappig and pulling of her leather ones she deposited them in the bag along with the other items of clothes she had stripped out of. Sighing she resigned herself to the next uncomfortable portion of the outfit, the streaky black heels that had been selected for her. She grudgingly put them on and fastened them shifting a bit to get used to the very little support that the stilleto heels offered.

Exiting the stall after stowing the bags of her old clothes she tucked the ID into a small black clutch. Standing in front f the bathroom mirror she resigned herself to doing something about her hair and makeup. There wasn't much she could do about her hair, she simply settled I brushing it and pinning up one side of her silvery bang. She had been cutting her hair for years but lately she had started giving thought to letting the short bob grow out again. Washin her face in the sink she rubbed it dry a towel. For a moment she simply stared in the mirror. Her skin was smooth and flawless but her complexion was almost ghostly pale. For thatreason she wore very little makeup. Opening the bag of makeup that had been with the clothes she applied some dark liner to her eyes along with a light bit of green eyeshadow and a bit of a soft pink lipstick. As she put the dragonfly shaped emerald earrings into her ears she sighed. She was just as uncomfortable as expected. Pulling on her gloves she exited the bathroom to meet up with Mystique once more.

 

[AnyOtherName]

Laura

It was fulfilling to stalk one’s prey. Or Jean. Much as she tried to smother her assassin’s mindset, the closest thing X-23 knew of happiness was this. And, well, murder. The satisfying smell of blood as it welled from deeply inflicted wounds, the warmth of the other’s life force as it spilled from Laura’s bone claws and onto the flesh of her knuckles…or the splatter of crimson as she eviscerated her target. A metallic taste would dance upon her tongue, even as it wasn’t her habit to ingest of her victims; her own blood had filled her mouth on more than one occasion and so the association came from her own moments of pain. Her failures.

Blood was the only currency X-23 understood. Take it as a reward or lose it in defeat.

Laura should be unsettled, perhaps, that she could not turn her thoughts away from the kill as she followed the redhead from a distance through the airport. The woman never had any intention of causing Jean harm – and yet, what she did now, was undeniably the prep work towards such an end. The raven haired woman tried not to blame herself too much for the expectation of a grisly prize for the hunt. Maybe they’d find trouble. There could be the need for violence, in the name of protecting her former teammate.

…Please let there be something…someone to bleed…

X-23 felt more alive, just at the imagination of taking someone else’s life. She got so caught up in rush of endorphins that she lost Jean’s scent amid the sea of swarming bodies, currents of unfamiliar smells and some particularly over fragranced individuals. She wrinkled her nose distastefully and tried to distance herself from the worst of the distractions. Still. The potent stench would not leave her senses, made it impossible for her reacquire the subtle tones she sought.

But she had her mind. And her eyes. Logic dictated that Jean would supply herself with a ticket to her destination and searching the multitudes of airline counters eventually brought her prey into sight. Laura would wait for the queue to bring about Jean’s turn, at which time the former(ish) assassin risked coming a little closer than she should to hear the other woman’s travel plans over the general clamor of the crowd. The girl at the counter fed all the information Laura needed: when or if there would be connections, flight numbers, and the like. It wasn’t until Jean took her leave, tickets in hand, that X-23 made her way back outside. Smuggling herself amid the cargo of the appointed plane was less of a challenge than one would think, given the insane safety measures and searches the other passengers would endure to board the flight legitimately.

Laura settled into the dark and cold underbelly of the air transit, making herself comfortable in the moments after the compartment was shut off from the outside world. All that was left to do was wait. And wonder. Where was Jean leading them? Laura knew the short answer: the location. But as to why? It wasn’t like the other, to be taking off without the knowledge or consent of her employer. …It had to be something good. Something dangerous.

X-23 kicked her heels up on a duffle bag as she leaned back against a tall suitcase. What had started as an impulsive need to find Jean, to follow and study her – which this wasn’t the first instance of, though perhaps the most far-reaching – suddenly had so much more potential. Laura wasn’t just the weirdo stalking her former teammate, in some pathetic attempt to decipher what it was that made the redhead so much different than everyone else… No. Laura was a concerned ally. There to cover Jean’s back, to protect her from whatever tribulations she may encounter on this strange journey.

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Back, in the past. During that first love. Some four(or more) years, ago. [New Orleans, Louisiana]

"Promise one t'ing, will ya?"

He looked over, to. Her. Curious, at her. Tone.

She couldn't, have. Been, the more. Serious. Not if her, life. Depended, 'pon it. "Never leave dis girl. Jus' please no. Can't 'magine life wit'out..."

"Won't 'appen, de no matter. Dat a promise, chere." After a moment, he. Decided to, throw. In, "D'aint like, de options. Dey any better, mm? Heh heh.."

"REMYYYY, you scoun'rel!" She swung at him, while. He laughed, the some. "Was bein' serious an' all...."

"Well, in a way. Dat jus' w'at you brought. T'de table. For Remy. For de us. W'at girl goin' put up. W'it dis?" Gesturing, to himself. Before her. "W'at girl could, 'sides you Celeste?" Now he was, being. Sincere. His manner, having matched. Hers, from previous. "De answers. No one. Don' need de any one else. W'at for? You it, chere. You de love of dis life, an'. As dey say -- de rest is 'istory!"
========================================================================
Present time. Now. [Inside of, The Brazen Fox. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

That, insurmountable. Awful, feeling. A sense. Acquired, mayhaps. During the most, in. Opportune, of times. Of some detail. Some effect. Some thing. To go, wrong. Almost like, a. Premonition. And of course, too little. Too late, ordeal.

Too little, too late. Kinda like, that. Final exam, that. Perhaps, one. Should have, studied for. Just a little, bit. More. Or, the supervisor. Performance review, meeting. And all, of those. Absences, that. Were in, excess.

For him, it was. Returning. From that....final solo mission, without. Her. And. And. And he...just...KNEW. He knew, that. The every, a. Thing was, wrong. Nothing, right. His world, never the. Same, ever. The 'gain. So, it was. Then...

And now! Heading back, to. To the City. To Manhattan. With Alison, and the others. Bad vibes. Bad news. He...knew. Sometimes one, just. Knows, right?

And then she, disappeared.

So. Now. Okay, yes. So, now...

In the room. The darkly lit, room. The main interior, to that of. The Brazen Fox. People. Lots of people. Gambit saw....the short, stout man. Standing in front, of. The empty, center. Stage. The youth, in Jamie. Close to him. Hm. Along with, some. One, else. He did, not recognize. He had, spotted. The girls, to the wall. Beside him. The dancers. Yet. She, was. Amongst them, NOT. They, were. Terrified...

But it, wasn't because. Of the five, armed. Individuals, he. Himself, had. Both, encountered. And, been. Escorted, down here by. No. LOOK! Over there. And Across the way. Behind even...

Everywhere. More, and more. Of 'them'. These armed gunmen, spilled. Out!

Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Cla-click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

....must've been like. Four dozen or so. Which was, why. Things were so --

Remembering, the. Terror, present. On their faces.

-- Horrific. No doubt, all of these. Guys, bringing the place down. With guns, on the ready. That'd put fear, into just about. Any, the one. But most especially, a commo--

"Goooooooood morning, Vietnam! Hey, this is not a test! This is rock and roll! Time to rock it from the Delta to the D.M.Z.!" broadcast out, almost in. A screech. The voice, sliced through the silence. The panting. The confusion. And brought, focus. To...."her", presence.

Huh???

Music filtered out, unto the. Average-like, sound system. And the mysterious hostess, continued. Non-plussed, "Welcome to The Brazen Fox. I’ll be yer host for the evening. Remember to tip your waitress! She gets paid shit. OH SHIT! You guys didn’t tell me we have celebrities showin’ up! Well, at least one." With that, a figure. Adorned in almost all. Red and black. Stood, atop. The DJ booth! "Hey! Wolverine! Can I get your autograph? Oh! Or a selfie with you?!"

He blinked. Slightly, taken aback. Just exactly, WHO. Was this....masked individual? Her(?) form...appeared, feminine -- with what, bare lighting was available -- yet. That....that voice. Up and, down. Scratchy. If not, a bit. Off kilter. The kind, one wouldn't. Want to, be remiss. About. Most especially, if the person -- she -- were on wake-up-call duty. Then again....maybe for some of those. Really, heavy sleepers?

Wait. She called out, to the. Older X-Man. To his team mate. How....did she know him? How did HE, know her? What....was going on here....? And...

"Deadpool. What the hell are you doing here? You grabbed the young girl." responded his team mate, to the individual. "Why?"

Dead. Pool. What's a Dead Pool? Was she...

Remy's eyes, dilated. The mite, as he. Processed, the second part. Of Logan's statement. Grabbed the young girl. ALISO--

"I am a US Marine." By this point, the other. Young guy -- unfamiliar one -- called out. Loudly. Gambit jerked his head, from the. Masked female, to this. New stranger, whom had. Positioned himself, betwixt. Logan and Jamie. He proceeded, threatening in the same. Almost stagnant-like, delivery. Representative of a militia. "You have taken American citizens hostage. You will lower your weapons and release them, or I will kill you. You have three seconds to comply before I rain down hell."

Now WHO, the hell. Was THIS guy? It just kept, getting. Better and better! When did he show up? Did the others know him? What....was his deal? Why....

Gambit swallowed. He had to focus. Prioritize. And think, awfully fast. Before, things. Got out of hand. The old him. Well, he would. Heh....he would, have. All ready, been out the door. Slipping away, 'pon the. Distractions, of the moment. 'Caused by. Any, one. Two. Three. Pick any of 'em! But....

But, well. That. That wasn't who, he. That wasn't who he, was. Now. That wasn't who he, wanted. To be, either. And more importantly. There was still, the matter. Of a certain, blonde haired. Blue eyed....

Alison!

If not for him. If not for his companions. If not even, for. The all, the every. Single, innocent. Person, in this. Very room, tonight. Dammit. At the least. At the most. Singularly, it was. For her. It was for....

"Three." The young Marine, began. Making a hand, gesticulation. At the same.

The Cajun's eyes, flared. Out, incredulously. Red orbs, gleaming. As he sought. To put a stop, to. The 'madness'. "Mon Dieu! STOP. Wait!" Hands, raised. Above his head, in a non-threatening. Manner, as like. Before, whence. He was, up. On the second floor. With the five, armed men. Now, to the stranger, he addressed. Specifically. "You crazy, homme? Dere inn'cent people in'ere. Don' know w'at you tryin' t'do. But it sound, de not. Very good, at all. 'Least o' all. For dese 'elpless folk!" He shot the Wolverine, and the Multiple Man. An indiscernible look, trying to gauge. Information, about this guy. As if he, could. As if it were, a component. Of his mutant gene, or something. "Even so...." hoping his, interruption. Of the youth's countdown, was. Effective. He turned. To the hostess...

During this whole time. Surprisingly. The lot of armed men, stayed. Put, for the most. Part. Since, the masked female's announced. Countenance, placed her. On 'location'. They've deferred, to her. Presence in the room. Not so much as, being overrun or pushed back. By the 'intruders'. But, also. Not taking initiative, the any. More. And rather, just. Being, ready. Upon her mark.

Weapons were still, aimed. And pointed. Everyone was still, enclosed. But for the moment, that's as far. As the notion, of the. 'Attack', took.

They simply watched -- ever alert -- when the Marine, made his. Proclamation. They remained, present. And steadfast, the moment. That the Cajun, too. Reacted....

And so, he turned his attention. To her. To the masked figure, atop. The DJ booth. He didn't know, her. Intentions. In situations like this, it was usually best. To play, with a poker face. "Jus' de one. Fair question. Gambit got. W'ere's de girl...."

Unless, of course. One's, clouded. Once more. With emotion. "...w'ere's Alison?" Red irises, blazed unto. The room's dim, of. Light. His hands, still. Raised, up. High. High above his head. Some. Something, now. Present -- was there? -- within, the middle. Middle and fore, finger. Of both, his. Hands....?
========================================================================

 

[Lachiyous]

Jean and Laura

Before. [Upon the Metaphysical Realm]

If one, if she. If Jean, were. To...hone, in. Not, on the. Here. The here and, the. Now. But, but. Beyond that. Yes. Past, the physical. Past what the, iris. Could see. And out of reach. The attainable. Further. To tap into, and. Unlock. Her entry way. Unto...

The metaphysical realm.

It was the plane of existence, with. Which, she was. Able to, access. With her psionics. The mutant power, granting her. Permission and passage. The time. Time and again. As was, the case. For all telepaths. Whether, they...knew it or not!

It was, within. Here. That she, well. She would, most. Certainly, find. Answers, to. Questions, that. May have amassed. From, the one. Simple. Intercepting. Communication.

And, she could. STILL. So, very. Clearly. Feel, the 'pulse'. Of the thought. As if. Hm. As if, it. Had a life, attached. To it, not. Unlike, the person. The female individual. Whom, earnestly. Sent it off! Almost like, it was. Real. Three-dimensional. To be seen. Heard. And if, she. Were to reach out, and. Touch, it. There would be, some. Kind, of. A sensation.

No. Wait...she had cast her, lovely. Greens, upon. It, when. She first took, notice. And....and. There was, some. Thing, associated. With it. A shape, streaming across--

Flit. Flutter.

Hm? Blink. Blink.

Look. There. Amidst the, center. Of the experience. And feeling. Traces, visible ones. Barely, noticeable. On this.....psionic grid. But yes. A kind of, mm. Purple iridescence.

Think. Thoroughly, please.

<>This whole thing has gone pear shaped, Logan.<>

YES! And what's, more. There....there was, a..

<>This whole thing has gone pear shaped, Logan.<>

Squint. A...butterfly?

<>This whole thing has gone pear shaped, Logan.<>

Of course! The person, that. Shot, this. Communicative, plea. Out, why. It was their -- her -- associative. Stamp. It was, her psionic. Signature. Or, imprint. Within here. That which, identified.....her! The purple iridescent, butterfly. That was...

Did Jean, herself. Have one, as well? Did--? Hm, another time. To be concerned, with. Her own, matters...

She knew, the signature. Of the message, blazed on. Westward. Bridging a gap, between. The sender, and. This Logan recipient. Which, logically meant. That it was, sent. From the East. And as she could. Begin, to discern. Traces. More and more, evidence. Before her. She had herself, a pathway, to follow. A lead, to go with. And a person, to seek out. One that needed, assistance!

.

.

.
========================================================================
Hours past. Now. [Siberia, Russia]

True. She'd spent lots, of. Her time, within. Her....mind. Scanning the horizons, if one will. For the source. For the person. For the girl, of whom. Had, sent out. That telepathic, call. Of distress. And besides, the. Initial, contact. With which, she. Had been able, to. Experience. The....'signal'. The traces, from the sender. Well, they were all. Sort of, vague. And weak.

It wasn't until she, headed -- both on the metaphysical, and physical planes -- Eastbound. That, she. Felt more, strength. In the connection. More confidence, in the source. More accurate, the location. And the location. It was in Russia.

As the plane, made its. Landing, on the. Runway. Jean Grey could be, sure. Of a few things...

Here. Over here. In this country, why. She was free, as a bird. One, that could ever be.

She felt, that the connection. The trace(s) to this, female. Had never, been. More strong, before now.

And...hm. Also. She...maybe...knew, next. To nothing, about. This stranger, for. Whom, she'd just. Practically, picked up. And ran out. To attempt, to. Help. Not to mention, the situation, which. Made it, some. A necessity, even. For assistance!

"Ladies and gentleman. Welcome to Siberia, we have now landed. This will now complete your flight for today. We'd like to thank you for using BRITISH AIRWAYS. Please take your time in recovering your personal belongings, especially from the above compartments. As they may have shifted during the travel. Thank you once again, and may you have a wonderful rest of your day!"

But...but then again. That same, familiarity. Still. Present. Yet. Out of sight, but. But not, quite. Out of her, 'range'. Jean wasn't, truly. Alone. Now, was she?
========================================================================

 

[Lachiyous]

NYC - Rogue

[The World Trade Center. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

Together. Out in the field. Outside, in the real world. On an actual mission. Honest to goodness. With one another. Not locked up. Not alone. Not without...contact. Mystique was here. With her.

Together.

Almost, like. A real. Mother and daughter, would. And could, be. If not. Hm. If not, for...the whole. Operative hush-hush, at present. But besides that! Yes. It still counted. Before, she would have. She'd have had no choice. No voice. But now....

But now, here. They, were. Here she was. Where?

At The World Tower. The North, to be exact. Why?

There...there had to be a reason. A good one. Very much significant, the 'nough. Which, she assumed. She had been ready for. Mystique and Destiny, seemed to. Believe as much. It was...almost telling, on their. Faces at times. Over the years...

And yet. Yet. The here, the now. Was present. Finally. And one -- she -- ought make, the. Best of things. Right?

Perhaps.

But.

After leaving the facilities, her. Mother. Her Guardian. Her 'hostess', was. No where, to be found. Not a clue. Not one trace. Of the woman, whom. Raised her. Could that, have been....odd? Was this a set up? Had she been left, alone....

"..everything you need to look your best, for the 107th Floor and highest profiled restaurant anywhere around! Windows on the World....aren't you hungry?"

Yes. That's what she, had spoken. And instructed Rogue, on. Still on the Lobby floor. Did that mean, that Mystique had...gone ahead, without her? Was she UP top, waiting. At this very moment? Was that the 'plan', the whole time?

So many questions. So few answers. And really, from her own of. Experience. She probably knew, all in all. That none-too-much, would in fact. Be divulged. Her own, uncertainty...indulged. Such as, had been. Why would, and should. Any a thing change, the now?

Dressed. Dressed to kill. The young girl, saw. Herself, before and. At the mercy. Of the local elevetors. Which, may very well. Provide transportation, from the bottom. To the top. If not, in the lengthy amount of time. Most especially, with THIS tall. The building. When a sign, could catch one's. Attention.

To the Express Elevator--->

Express? 107th Floor. Okay...
========================================================================
A Bit Later. Thursday evening. [Upon the 107th Floor. Windows on the World restaurant]

The Express Elevator actually, bypassed. A great, bundlement of. Floors, which she might. Have had to, individually go through. One-by-one, with the local. Options. She took one, all the way to the. 78th Floor, and then. Via the Sky Lobby. Was able to catch, an. Individual, local one. The rest of the way...

Through.

Until, finally.

107 flashed, for her. The elevator doors slid, apart. To the grandiose display, of Windows on the World. Elegance. Sophistication. People with more than enough, greens. Made it a point, to. Come here. Partake in the view. THE view. Atop of the NYC World. Enjoying scrump-licious. Tastings. And delectable, nectar. Something of an afterthought, truly.

For here. Up here. It was, here. That one, felt. Alive. Lifelike. King(and Queen), of it all. Above. Beyond. On top. Atop. Everyone. Every a thing. Else. The windows, reached out. From ceiling, to floor. All around, all over. If one, desired. If one, wanted. If so, inclined....one could very well. Look out, and over. One's own, kingdom. Down below. The view, allowed an iris. To reach, such the expanse. Of the beauty, of life. Around. From this place. From this Tower. From this, most prestigious dining...

To the all, a. Single, peon. At the very, little. Bottom.

Had one -- did she -- ever, wish. Ever hope. Ever, seek...to be. a Master(Mistress) of the Universe? Because. Hold the breath. Freeze reality. Up here? Anything, was possible!

The black tie wearing, host. Greeted her, cordially. With a smile and nod. Noting her identification, which she had. Thought to make, available for him. "Ah, yes. Of course. Excellent madame. If I may lead you to your table this evening...?"

The man ushered her, across. And through. Past various, other. Parties, and miscellaneous guests. She overheard a lone table, which. Featured a frosty haired, guy. Across from some, much younger blonde lady. With sapphire eyes. Nestled in a silk, chiffon dress. He appeared to be reprimanding her, "...you've not touched your food. Don't pretend to tell me that you aren't enjoying all of this."

"...I'm not in the mood. What about my--"

"...are of no..."

....until she left, range. And earshot of them. Through to others. And eventually, the host brought her. To her destination. The table. Right, next. To a window. Of course. Doorway outside.

"If it please you, madame. Your table. Please enjoy your dinner here tonight. And should you need anything, don't hesitate to let me personally know!"

And then she. Well. She was where, in. Necessity, as. Intended. Princess. Upon her perch. With the lights -- oh wow, could one even imagine these lights? -- sparkling. Outside. Across, as far. As she could, see. Like a network, a. Vast colony, thousands. Of, little. Fireflies! Cast out, and beaming. Brightly, brilliantly. For her, this very night.

All so, almost. Magical...

"Not bad, eh?" the drawl of a Southern man's, voice. Rang out, to her. He, was seated. Across from her, at. Her table. In an Armani black tuxedo. Debonair. Five o' clock shadow. With red embers, gleaming. Out, at her. Perhaps Rogue had, heard. Of him -- 'her' in this form -- which, had become. Something, significant. Amongst, the Crime Masters. Then again, she'd likely. Not. As she'd never, before. Today. Been, with. Or, on. Any outing, or. Excursion. So most likely, the. Man, before her. Was just as much, a. Stranger, as any other...

Then, for that matter. Just whomever WAS this, person? And WHERE was...Mystique? Where were the others? What. What was the 'play' here?

Two glasses brought. By the waiter. And soon, filled. With Château Mouton-Rothschild Pauillac Bordeaux, wine. Bottle, left on the. Table.

"To de most beaut'ful gal, in de entire room. You. Chere." The dapper, man. Clicked his glass, to hers. His reds, catching her greens. Before bringing, the beverage. To his lips.

Hm. Might as well, enjoy this -- all of it -- while one. She, could! Besides...what was the, worst. That could, happen...?
========================================================================

 

[Lachiyous]

Gambit

Right Before. [Inside of, The Brazen Fox. In Lower Manhattan, New York]

So quick. So sudden.

What actually transpired, before. That pivot. That moment. Could very well, have been. Any one's, speculative. Guess.

A growl had snarled out.

The screech of words, rung too.

Along. Along with...a shower of gunfire.

Then, came the explosion....

And all hell broke, loose.
========================================================================
For the Cajun's part, well. He never, really. Got the answer, to. His question. The masked figure, had rattled off some. Thing, or another. As if responding, to him. Yet 'she' spoke of nonsense. Things like "tummy aches". And "unemployment". Even "muthafuckin' slow dicks". None of it, really had any. A thing, to do. NOTHING. With Alison!

One second, it was a stare down. The next, she suddenly reached. For her double. Katana. Each strapped to, her. Back.

A notion.
A move.
A sign.

And her men, reacted. Favorably. With shots!

Gambit ducked, spun. And dove, toward the shrieking bystanders. Nearest him. The dancers! "Down!" was all, he had. Managed to get out. His gleaming, unconvinced orbs. Intaking one last image. Before the boom.

The young, Marine. Being shot at, before. Before. BEFORE!

Those.

Two.

HANDS.

Came.

Together.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!
========================================================================
Afterwards.

Smoke.

Lots of it. Some fire, too. And....debris. Important elements, in the. Aftermath, of an. Explosion.

Fade out, fade in.

Ga-asp. Cough.

Remy returned, with a. Start. The blast, must've knocked him. Out. He could, feel. The women, shivering. Beside him. He'd made use, strategically. Of a table, which. Had been, toppled over. As a barrier of sorts. And it appeared to have, shielded. The girls.

Cough.

Needed air however. Pushing back, at the. Table yielded, no. Result. He kicked, at it.(in the limited position he was in) He shoved it. He cursed, at the same.

Still nothing.

Looking at the women, his choices. Limited. Gambit withdrew, one. Singular, card. From the sleeve, of his coat. His red eyes, all ready glowing. With hints of, magenta. As the same, began. Engulfing his hand, and the Jack of Spades.

Fizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzizzzzzz--

The notion allowed him, sight. In the nook, he was. Entrapped. Nevermind, the company. With the dancers. All of whom, were. Out. They were, indeed. Backed, unto the wall. By the table. But, something. Caught his eye, when his gaze went above. A gap. Toward the top. If he could just....

--izzzzziizzzzzzzzzz--

He pressed his, free. Hand, out. Of the hole, and clenched. Before, slowly. Lifting, himself. Up. GAHHHHH. Pushing his head, up through. It. Not long thereafter, releasing. The Jack of Spades, upon the. Center stage pole, which was wedged. Up against, their table!

--BOoom!

That freed, up. The hold on the. Table. And he worked, quickly. To get, each. Girl. Out of the building.

But...but what of, everyone else? What of his team mates? The masked individual, the marine? What the HELL, about Alison?

Where was everyone?

So many bodies. So many dead bodies?

Cough. Swallow.

"nhhhhg! Ne.e.d ti.m.e.. Mu.st...h.e.a.l...."

?

"To.ok.......br.unt...for.ce....he.a.do.n--!"

Remy saw, a figure. A ghastly one, strewn across. A couple of the, other. Bodies. The skin, had been. Melted off, the mite. In some parts, all the way. Down to. The bone! He barely, compartmentlized. Narrowly identifying his. Stout companion. Nodding, and. Reaching for him. But not before, calling out. "Madrox! You alive too?"

His reds, could be seen. Scanning, for him. Even as sirens could be heard. Faintly, in the distance....
========================================================================

 

[Remec]

Madrox - The Brazen Fox

Ultimatums.

Jamie Madrox sighed inwardly as he watched the confrontation between the newly met marine and the woman Logan called Deadpool. As the countdown began, he gently shook his head and glanced around the place for cover or a way out.

Their replacement deejay held her body in an stance that meant there was bound to have been a smirk under that mask and ignored the Marine's threat. "What the hell am I doing here? That's a pot-calling question, ain't it? Dealing with the hunger inside--that makes for tummy aches--by not having to dealing with unemployment."

The sound system kicked to life and blared out over the drill instructor voice droning on. "Two...."

"And, you know me, having a party and enjoying the shit out of life. Not like some muthafuckin' slow dicks I might name. Know what I'm saying?"

The rhetoric hung in the air amid the group. Then, as if cutting through the words. the Marine finished, "One. Time's up, assholes." He raised his arm and Deadpool made just the barest of noticeable gestures to her men.

Automatic weaons rang out!

Gambit's body leaped into motion and he called out, "Down!"

And the Marine clicked his fingers.

Snap BOOM!

As the snapping of the Marine's fingers called forth an explosion that seemed to be doing its best to level the entirety of the Brazen Fox's interior, Madrox' relatively short period of training forced him into motion.

He dashed forward to the largest table near to the cowering dancers and split himself as the first impact from the blast resounded against his body and reverberated in his ears. Within seconds, Madrox had become triplets and turned the table to protect the women. The explosion increased and repeated itself with assorted modifications as it detonated various cases of munitions and demolition gear that had probably belonged to Deadpool.

The room filled with smoke and the dark that a powerless, windowless, interior room contained waiting in the corners for such an occasion. It also, well, one significantly sized space of it. filled fairly quickly with Madroxes. They could hear the sound of labored breathing, so much choking and coughing, groaning and moaning.

Jamie could hear the mutterings of Logan as the older mutant was recovering from being right at the forefront and between all the different blasts. Then he saw a glow that sparked to life and then flared to break loose a table from one of the stripper poles.

Gambit stood up and surveyed the destruction. He stepped forward and looked to be reaching to gather up Logan's regenerating form when he paused and shouted, "Madrox! You alive too?"

Jamie smiled and rolled his eyes as a score of voices responded. "Yeah, no problem. I'm fine. Let's get people out before those sirens get here." He moved to help Gambit with the surprisingly heavy Logan, while opening the exits and getting the ambulatory to their feet and helping those who couldn't move, let alone walk, out into the fresh air.

Other than a few bodies and discarded weapons, there was no sign of the mobsters or Deadpool.

"Remember. First sign of cops, everyone return to me or scatter quietly, find a change of clothes, and meet back at the school or my hotel room. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"Of course."

Madrox nodded to himselfs and then looked to Gambit. "So, what now?"

 

[SinisterSpiders]

Jean Grey

That familiar psychic marker, Jean recognised it as she stepped off the plane. She had been followed by her before, a number of times, and never had it come to anything. Jean wasn't sure why, she never approached her and the other woman certainly never told others where Jean had gone or what she'd been doing.

But Laura was a bit odd like that. She was solitary, reserved, Jean didn't really expect answers. Nor did she see her as a threat. Her presence had always been detached, but never malignant.

So Jean continued about her business. Her concern over the amount of time that had passed since intercepting the message was concerning. She wouldn't let Laura distract her. Plus, if there was trouble on the horizon, perhaps Laura was the best person to have following her.


Siberia was hers to explore for a short time, and she was determined to find the source of the call. So Jean ignored her friendly neighbourhood stalker and opened her mind to the psychic plane. She could feel the pulse of the woman now, resounding through her as a steady drum beat. She could feel the flutters of the psychic signature against her skin, and her success made her smile. It was such a long shot, but she was here. She zeroed in on the source and turned towards it. There was was nothing left now but to follow and succeed. This woman, this woman that might be like her, would be found and Jean would ensure that she would come to no harm.