Xmen: Evolution's Children (IC)

[Mephistophelily]

The school was certainly not as it once was. The photos scattered about the lobby of the dorms were those of a building in its prime, a place known for its cause for good and open doors. Somewhere without concerns on prejudice and hatred.

But now...
Now the dorms rested behind what seemed more a construction site, a mess of rubble and rock, broken metal and piles of earth. Even the gardens, lush and green, full of life in those photos, were browned and wilting. As if they had given up hope.

Hank McCoy stood at the window of his own room, manning the house himself as the rest of the returning Xmen intending to rebuild the Mansion continued with their current plans. In his large palm now rested a tiny cell phone, merely minimalized by his hand. "I see. Yes, completely understand. Quite. I shall speak with you again soon, Logan. Give Kitty my regards. Stay well, my friend."

Clasping the phone closed, he set it back onto his desk, the makeshift office holding the doctor's favorite books and large plush chair. As the bluefurred man settled into the seat, a heavy sigh left his lips. "As once was uttered so elequently in a persona of Danny Glover. I am too old for this shit." Closing his eyes as he removed his glasses, he sat there a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

A building full of recently gathered, still learning their powers, mutants.... And only one Hank. "The greatest way to learn is to experience firsthand. Field training. Yes."

--------
Upstairs from Hank's office, in the various rooms of the currently coed dorm house, the new team-in-training was attempting to settle themselves in comfortably.

Risa had found hers.
To others, the collection of stuffed toys and action figures, windup toys and the like lining her bed and walls may have come off childish. Though she did keep a child's awe about her, the toys weren't so much clingings to her youth, but her greatest strength.

"Can you hand me that hammer, please?," she called out, though no other person was currently there.

But help was still available. The stuffed koala on her bed suddenly got to its feet, groanng loudly as it stretched. "Jeeeez, kid-! Couldn't ya have been a TOUCH more delicate bringin' us up here? I think I got a hole in my lining from all that jostling around! Is that stuffing? Look! Right here- you better'a brought your sewing kit, TB!"

"You're fine, Kuula. The hammer. Please."

"Yeaah yeah yeah." The bear climbed up onto the desk, hauling up the tool she requested, handing it over before peering out the window. "You think you're up for all this, kid? I mean, what you got is pretty nice. Well, I think so. Cuz. Ya got me movin'. But ya think you're Xmen material?"

"Mr Hank says I am." She held the nail gingerly, patting the hammer against it. "He'd be one to know, right?"

"Geh." Kuula flopped onto the desk's edge, shaking his head. "I worry on ya, TB. These Xguys get into some trouble. Fixin' you ain't as easy as fixin' me."

"You're sweet." She giggled, laughing more as he glared at her. Finishing her work on the wall, she finally slipped the picture of her father over the nail, hopping down from the desk and smoothing her dress. "C'mon, lets go meet our neighbors! I mean team mates! I mean- agh. Lets go!" Grabbing him up by a paw, she plunked him onto her shoulder, beaming as they wandered out into the hall. "What do you think of Mr Hank?"

"Nice fur."
"Kuula..."

 

[No_such_thing]

Victor

The room was plain, but not soulless, not like the hospital room had been. They'd had to insulate him from the rest of the hospital, the last time they'd had a physical mutant in there patients had hurled abuse and protesters had gathered outside. They'd had to keep him in a private room, white, like him. It had been an empty place, for healing maybe, but it hadn't felt like that. He'd been lucky, Dr Paxton had been getting on in years, but hadn't retired yet. He'd had the brisk, business like attitude of the perpetually busy, but he'd been kind enough, he'd told Victor about Xavier's school. He didn't know how he'd known about it's true nature, probably the man was, himself, a mutant, but he had and that had led here.

He looked around again, he'd never kept pictures, they'd seemed pointless, now... He didn't quite know what to do with his new-found sight it had taken him a while to get used to, seeing when for so long he had lived in complete darkness, it was liberating, free. And oh so depressing. Life was grey, it wasn't what he had expected, though he had been used to the suffering, he hadn't been used to seeing it on the faces of the people he walked past. He sighed, he hadn't even met anyone here yet but the rather imposing Hank McCoy, and even he had seemed tired and stressed. The school, once a proud and imposing manor judging by the photos in the lobby, was now nothing but a mess of twisted metal and ruined stone. A dream destroyed, a dream in ashes, perhaps a new one would rise. Perhaps.

He heard a door open in the hall. Someone else around. He perked up slightly, leaving his small suitcase half unpacked he moved towards the door, he went to pick up his cane, but after a moments thought, left it, he didn't have to hide his ability here. But as he left the room, he was still wearing the dark glasses that concealed his eyes.

There was a young woman in the hall, he'd thought there was another but she was alone, accompanied by nothing but a... stuffed bear? He raised an eyebrow in surprised puzzlement, but shook his head, they all had their little quirks, if hers was stuffed toys then... His train of thought was rapidly derailed as the koala spoke.

"Nice fur."
"Kuula..."

He blinked unconsciously, the movement not affecting his sight at all and smiled nervously. "Hey, I'm Victor."

 

[Trailing_Tongue]

Dominick Turner

Gravel crumbles beneath his feet as he enters the lobby. The dim light granting a glimpse of a once prestigious academy. The pictures line the walls, many crooked. His eyes follow the fresh cracks along the wall into the hall towards the dorms. Even this building has suffered it's share of scars.

Standing tall he holds a single backpack at his side. This is all he has, all he is. Looking around he begins to wonder what he was doing here. Were these ruins really his place of revival? The start of a new chapter in his life. A new beginning.

Voices echo from down the hall. Lowering his sunglasses he can make out two silhouettes and.... a small one... What is that he wondered. Adjusting his sunglasses he begins to make his way down the hall towards towards the voices.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Paul Sentwali was a man with a... troubled past. Which was probably an absurd understatement. Unlike many mutants he'd heard talk of, mutants who acted out and harmed or killed others, caused destruction everywhere they went, his troubles were caused by nothing more than the unfortunate accident of the time and place of his birth. He was only eleven years old when the genocide stated, the assassination of President Habyarimana prompting the abandonment of the Arusha Accords.

Neighbors killed neighbors. Friends killed friends. The streets were red with blood, mud the color of black crimson swallowing up his country. Bullets would've been quick, at least the killing would've been swift and relatively painless... but why waste hundreds of thousands of bullets when far fewer machetes could do the same work? Death squads quickly formed, and genocidaires roamed the streets in packs, going house to house, hunting the Tutsi like animals. Exterminating them like cockroaches.

Were it not for the mutation in Paul's genes, and the activation of that mutation at the critical moment, he'd be as dead as the hundreds of thousands of his fellow countrymen were now. Instead, he became something of a folk hero to genocide-burdened Tutsi all across Rwanda. His skills quickly became greatly exaggerated as the story was whispered from person to person in a blood-soaked game of telephone. Some claimed he was killing Hutu with his bare hands and that they were powerless to stop him. Some claimed he could kill with his mind. The truth was far removed from any of that. He'd never killed anyone, never had plans to start, and the most help he'd been to the beleaguered Tutsi minority was healing a few, protecting a few others, and possibly saving some lives.

Not nearly enough.

When the RPF swept through and ended the genocide, the attitude towards a mutant among their kind changed quickly. Paul's help was no longer needed to stop a genocide, and his folk hero status quickly changed to feared. He was an outsider among people that had been made outsiders by their own countrymen. It soon became apparent that leaving was the only option. Even in Sub-Saharian African, news of the X-Men and Charles Xavier reached him. They were just whispers, overheard conversations, quite likely the same sort of tales that were passed from ear to ear about him, but it was a chance at something... better. A life where he could be himself. A short time ago, it would've meant leaving behind everyone he loved. The genocide had made sure that was no longer an issue...






It took years to get out of Rwanda, more years to get out of Africa, and even when he'd made it to America, it was some time before he was able to learn anything more about the X-Men and how to find them. Asking questions meant the possibility of being discovered as a mutant, and given the climate he found upon stepping onto American soil, he thought the chances of being an outcast yet again were quite good.

He was eleven when the genocide robbed him of everything and gave him this strange and wonderful gift. Setting foot onto the ground of the mansion in Westchester, he was a 28 year old man, weary and tired, the scars on his body the only baggage he carried with him. The place had clearly seen better days, but he'd seen someone enter ahead of him, so at least he wasn't alone. If this place was not what he'd hoped, if those that opposed his kind, his other kind, had taken control of the grounds, he was confident in his ability to defend himself until he could escape. He just wasn't so sure about his desire to do so. New York was as good enough a place as any to die, wasn't it?

With a glance at his surroundings, the grounds beautiful despite the ugly weight of their own scars, he made his way to the front door and entered, his footsteps quiet as he stepped through the doorway.

 

[JadeKnight]

When Callie first arrived at the Institute, it wasn't at all what she had expected. She certainly hadn't expected the place to be so run down. True she hadn't seen pictures of the place recently, but she did remember the place being more full of color when she had saw news on the X-men when she was a kid. It gave her pause for a few moments, wondering if this place would really help her with her gift, as her dad had called it.

----------------
Her first day was actually her first night in the dorms, but she was exhausted from the flight from California to New York. She didn't even try to unpack her belongings, just collapsing into sleep on the bed. Her dreams flashbacked to when her powers did manifest without her control.

The team practice had just finished up and she got the message from her coach that her dad couldn't pick her up. Her friends offered to give her a ride home, but the apartment was only a few blocks from the practice field so she opted to walk home. The sun was about to set and a slight cold wind picked up, causing her to pull her jacket tighter around her.
She was only a couple blocks away when the incident started. The sidewalk was being repaired, so she had to go through the alleyway behind the library. She was halfway through the ally when two cloaked figures came out of a darkened doorway. One flashed a knife while the second one spoke, both blocking her path.
"Why don't you hand us your money miss?"
"Um, why should I do that?"
The one who spoke growled, speaking a little more angrily.
"If you don't, we are going to cut you."
Callie blinked and raised an eyebrow as she looked at the knife. The thought of getting cut didn't bother her, since all it was going to was make her bleed some. She sighed and shook her head.
"I am not going to give you money because I don't have any. Do you even see a purse on me? Go bother someone else."
"Why you little bitch!"
The knife-wielder finally spoke up and then lunged at her, plunging the knife in her left shoulder. Callie stood there for a moment as she could feel the knife scape along her collarbone, barely flinching. Her lack of reaction seemed to take the two by surprise, both backing up as the knife was left in her shoulder. She reached up and pulled the knife out, looking at it for a moment. She growled and then screamed at them.
"YOU IDIOT!"
She wasn't completely sure how it happened, but after her shout, thin black blades shoot from the ground around her. They angled towards the two hoodlums, missing them only by inches as they shot past. One of the boys pissed themselves before running away in terror. Callie dropped the knife as she took a few deep breaths, the shadows melting back into the surroundings.

Callie gasped for breathe as she jerked awake, sitting up on the bed. It took her a minute to gather her wits about her and realize where she was. She breathed deeply for a moment before moving to look out her window.

"Afternoon already? I better unpack."

She didn't bring much in terms of belongings. The three pictures she had: one of her mother, father, and her as a child before the accident, a second of her and her father when she was in middle school, and the final of her graduating from high school; were arranged on the dresser. She had a handful of outfits, including a black dress she was sure she would never wear. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror for a moment. She wasn't sure she would be able to fit in, at least not yet.

Clearing her head, she quickly changing her clothes. She pulled on a short sleeved black shirt, blue jeans and her beat-up white sneakers. She fixed her black hair into her usual pigtails. Her dad told her she was too old for pigtails, but she thought they fit her. Satisfied, she turn to leave her room as her stomach started to growl. Her soccer ball rolled out from under the bed and she ended up kicking it out the door into the hallway.

"Damnit."

 

[Pain_Bauble]

Johnny looks at the gate, and frowns at what lays beyond. His eyes narrow at the construction signs, and from inside he can feel the varied emotions of those trying to find their places in what's left of the academy. The sun was raising into a fairly warm morning for him, and he didn't much care for it at all. The young psionic considers turning around and heading back the way he came.

"S'gunna be hell this year. Alright, let's go..", He says as he hoists his backpack into place, and sticks his hands into the pockets of his ripped knee blue jeans. The boy slouches heavily, and tries hard to ignore the adults trying to shoo him away from the scorched section of the commons. He ignores them , but heads around the rubble anyways as he tries to gather a bit of information.

He looks around at the kids moving about the area, and stop for a moment. He always did like seeing mutants together, the speedsters and fliers, and everything just being.. free. It made him happy for a moment, and he took in the emotional spectrum around him. Anticipation. Sadness. Joy. Hope. Lust.

He mulls that one over for a moment as he eventually spots the two young adults settling behind a tree. He shakes his head a bit, and continues on his way toward what is being used as the main building. He can feel the sun beating down on his head, and the moody teenager frowns as he eventually decides to do something about it.

Taking in the students walking about the campus he eventually finds one with a baseball cap, and walks over. He smiles pleasantly, and settles a few feel in front of him. Johnny makes sure his back is to the wind, as he waits.. The other student stops, and looks up from the book he was reading. Johnny take him all in, the brushed back hair, the title of the book, the way he holds himself.

“Sup, you new here? Which classes are you planning on taking?”, Johnny settles himself into his task, starting with an open ended question. He smiles politely, as his other power takes effect. His pores open, and the air between them starts to become heavy in a sweet, undefinable smell as if there was an under current of cologne. The wind spread the pheromones, and he could almost tell the exact moment they touched the kid.

He watches as the eyes dilate slightly, and a sensation of pleasure crosses his face as the pheromones trigger the dopamine in his brain. They talk for a moment, and as he asks questions, he slowly steers him. How he holds himself, and what he says are chosen carefully to gain favor with this kid. There is a point where you know they aren't really focusing on you anymore, but simply on being there.

“Yah, I like that band too. Hey, I got to go, but can I borrow your hat? I lost mine somewhere...”, he asks with a slow ease, as he holds his hand out. He smiles slightly, and moves as if he was in a hurry.

“Yah, sure. Here.”, the student says absently as he takes the hat off, and passes it over. He fumbles with his book, and eventually heads back as he was. Johnny dusts off the cap, and wears his purloined goods as he heads for the dorms. He whistles a bit to himself, and stops only when he hears the noise behind him.

“ugg..wha? Hey, hey you?!”

Johnny cringes internally, and turns slowly as the kid with the book comes striding in close. Johnny could feel the anger coming off him before he said another word. Before he reaches, Johnny watches as the kid's fist turns into a rock like substance with large flat craggy knuckles.

Well, nothing I can do now I suppose..

The next sensation was searing pain, and the taste of copper in his mouth.

When everything went horribly wrong for Xavier's, he was in New York in a hospital after his powers had over loaded. The institute wanted no part of the fight with Kang, but the conquering alien wasn't about to let the gem fall from his grasp again.

He was hiding out in the subway, trying not to get caught in the crossfire as the Avengers and Defenders challenged the future tech of Kang the Conqueror. He huddled in the stairwell of the maintenance entrance, and wondered why Spider-man or the Fantastic Four wasn't here to help.

Johnny feels the familiar thrumming behind his left eye. He moves a hand to his forehead, and tries to steady himself. The rage was immense, beating against his brain. He couldn't think as he grabbed for the wall to steady himself. His vision clouded with red, and he couldn't stop himself. Fear began to drown out his ability to function as he feels something terrifying come crashing down the stairs of the subway into the station.

His eyes unfocused as he looks up and stares into the eyes of the Hulk. The great green monster was punishing him with waves of white-hot rage as he tries to shrink back into the stairwell. He wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but sitting in the view of so much anger.

And then he broke...

His brain couldn't handle it anymore, and he just screamed. He screamed and screamed, and his brain was filled with rage and fear. Those around him began to scream and writhe as his brain feeds them his emotions, leaving the whole station maddened with it. Then the fighting broke out as everyone tried to get farthest away from the Hulk. They cut and beat each other to escape, and he eventually passed out from the pain he was causing.

His eyes widen, and Johnny sits up rubbing his throbbing temple. He coughs, and sits up where he was laying on a medical bed. He blinks a few times and looks around the Infirmary.

“Yo, you got knocked the hell out there. It was awesome. You might want to stay away from Crag for a while though. Never seen anyone steal his lucky hat before.”, An annoying kid with green skin jabbered on as he waved him away. His head was trying to stop throbbing, and he laughed a bit at his own misfortune.

“I'll remember that..”