Marvel, Rebirth:

IC: Lynae

After Kristen had fallen asleep again, Lynae had wandered off into her study. The vampire pulled out a book, a very old book with gold lined pages and was at least three inches thick. She quickly opened it to the first page, which had nothing but a photo and a date with a small discription.

The photo was of two women, one with long blonde hair and the other with dark hair. They were both very beautiful women and dressed in fancy Victorian clothes, their arms around each other and large grins on their faces.

The vampire smiled sadly as she gently touched the dark haired woman's face. "I miss you." She said softly as she stared at the woman. It had been years since she had seen her little sister, a girl that was very much the opposite of Lynae is ways. She was innocent and sweet, genuinely sweet... Something Lynae hadn't been in a while.

The girl that Lynae had taken care of and loved better than she could love anyone romantically had made her be a different person. When she had her sister, Lynae felt a bit normal and happy. She had a family.

Lynae continued to look through the book until morning , each a picture of her and her sister. She smiled as she saw the times changed, their styles changing with it. Yet one thing never changed, and that was the smiles that the girls had as they posed together.

IC: Dante (X-Institute, Recovering)

As the pain finally began subsiding, Dante managed to huff out a simple, "I'll be fine." Before taking Alistair's hand, and getting back up to his feet. For a long moment there was nothing but silence between the two seekers of myth. Just standing there the two of them had said enough, Alistair via his Exclaibur and Dante via his Zodiacs, both had been told enough. There was a darkness. An unnatural and vile creature now unleashed upon the world, and both teens knew that something had to be done about it.

"So," Dante chuckled, "Some rather rotten luck we're having eh? What's the game plan?"

IC: Dustin (Wichita, Saving a Cop)

Dustin grinned, So this chick is pretty fast, well looks like I'll just have to be even faster. Then Dustin did something reckless, something that could possibly get the Cop killed, but that thought never crossed his mind. Instead the teen was too focused in his obsession with being the fastest, and hence while everyone else remained still, waiting for the thief's first slip-up, Dustin just smiled and disappeared. The floor was already set for him, and it would only take him three seconds to clear up this mess.

One. He was now behind Leah, and his hand was darting out towards the gun.

Two. His hand should now being making contact with the gun, hopefully forcing it away.

Three. If the contact had successful lasted till now, the gun would be nothing but dust.

IC: Katherine (New York Red Cross Station, Trying to Leave)

'Where am I?'

The former Delta Squad member continued to glance around in confusion. The entire world seemed to be one big haze, as if she had fallen into some sort of void. No wait, it was starting to come together now. She wasn't in a void, no she was, where was she, she had been here before so why couldn't she place a finger on it. She was sure if she just focused it would come to her, it held significance after all.

She was in a cafe in the middle east.

"Oh god this is disgusting bleh."

Katherine's head turned to locate the source of the voice and found it emanating from Delta Two. It seemed he was making some inane comment about the quality of the food, while lying on the floor no less. This was served only as cause for Delta Thirteen and Delta Three to snark at his expense. However even as they continued their banter, Katherine could only stand in confusion.

No wait she was sitting, since when had she been sitting, this didn't make sense.

"Right Kate?"

She was being asked a question, about the quality of the food. Wait since when had she been eating, everything was just one big blur.

However just as Katherine was about to answer, Delta Three had begun speaking. Wait that wasn't right, she had answered, in fact Delta Three had responded to her answer, so why couldn't she remember saying anything.

Once more Katherine had taken a back seat to conversation, lost adrift her thoughts, as the other three members of Delta went about their business.

Wait that wasn't right, there were more members that just that, what about Delta Nine.

Suddenly the eye's of the three in the cafe turned towards her, it seemed she had once more spoken, but she couldn't remember what. However as Katherine struggled to come up with a response, Delta Nine came bursting back from the counter, pitcher of water in hand.

That clinched it, Katherine remembered this, it had been during a mission, the one that had damaged their mechs. What was she doing here again.

As Katherine continued to sit through the conversation, constantly running across the odd experience of speaking, but not speaking, her mind was adrift, trying to figure out the circumstances that had led her here.

Then, as the conversation began shifting towards cartoons and the regulations thereof, Katherine heard a phone ring.

That's right, a phone rings, a mission starts, the mind clears.

Except the ring wasn't emanating from her phone, it was coming out of the restroom, the restroom where Delta Nine was.

An explosion.

Wait was going on, she didn't remember any explosions.

Oh god, there was an explosion coming from the restroom, Delta Nine needed help.

Katherine tried to stand, but it was no use she couldn't move, but she could see it all.

Watch as the other members of Delta Squad leaped to their feet.

Watched as Delta Thirteen pulled out Rookie's corpse, his arm mangled and covered in blood.

Watched as Delta Thirteen was promptly shot in the back of the skull, tears had still been streaming down Sayf's face.

Watched as Delta Three tried to find the assailant, rage burning within in him, only for his body to begin burning as someone fired a burning arrow at Jayne.

Watched as Delta Two began to panic, trying to find the assassin the in dark, only to be crushed under the rumble of the collapsing cafe. Michael's look of pure fear and disbelief was the last she saw of him.

Watched as a young woman emerged from the shadow.

It was Delta Six.

She had killed them all.

Katherine had destroyed Delta Squad.

'Just make it stop.'

She was now in a jungle.

Not just any jungle, it was the jungle she had grown up in.

There he was, the leader of the guerillas, the man who had raised her. She hated much of what he had done, but he was a good person, a kind man, and he was like a father to her.

He was talking to her, on his knees so he was eye-level with the little girl.

"Katherine, I have a very important mission for you." His english was broken and interspersed with portuguese, but that had been the gist of what he was saying.

"Look, I need you to go scouting for me, make sure nothing bad comes our way. Can you do that for me?"

The little girl, Katherine, nodded her head.

"Atta-girl!" And with a slightly ruffling of the top of her hair, the man sent her off with a pat on the back.

Time shifted once more.

Katherine saw destruction.

Fire.

Death.

Blood.

So much blood.

The blood of her friends.

The blood of the man.

The blood of her home.

The blood of her family.

And in the center of a it all, a young woman stood, she was laughing at the destruction she had brought forth. Laughing at the devastation.

Her face turned to Katherine and she saw herself.

She had killed her family.

Katherine had destroyed her family.

'Help me.'

She was sitting in a helicopter.

A man was holding her, as Katherine looked up she noticed his blond hair, but the rest of his face was obscured. Still she felt connected to this man, she knew him well and she felt safe in his arms.

Then there was a muffled explosion.

Warning lights began flaring, the chopper was going down.

It was already down.

She was being thrown out of the wreckage by the man, the bow she had been playing with was still in her hand.

The man was being consumed by fire, being torn apart by the blades of the Helicopter.

Yet, Katherine was safe, she had survived, why did she always have to survive.

Standing next to her was the laughing young woman.

Katherine had taken another life.

She awoke with a start, sweat pouring down her face, her heart still racing. It had just been a dream, just another dream.

Slowly Katherine began to take in stock of her surroundings, she was in an unfamiliar room, well it was actually a tent. It seemed she had been moved to some sort of hospital tent, judging from all the logos, it was owned by the Red Cross. She herself was laying in stretcher, and there was a table at the end of it. On the table her clothes and weapons were resting.

Quickly throwing herself out of the stretcher, Katherine began putting on her clothes, and then moved on to equipping her weapons. By the time she was done and about to leave the tent, a man with a clipboard walked in.

"Ah, glad to see your finally up and awake, it seems the energy has returned to your face."

Katherine didn't stay and listen, before the man could even voice a single a complaint, she was sprinting out of the tent. She wasn't planning on staying at this place any longer than she had to. Now was the time for her to run. She'd figure out the where later.

IC: Horace (Conference, Entering)

"Ah yes variety, a wonderful thing," All eye's turned as the young representative of Hammer Industries walked into the room. At first glance, it seemed he cared even less about his responsibilities than the informal air of the president. From the way he walked to the way he carried himself, it seemed he only did his job because it amused him.

Yet, much like the president, every action of his was calculated. The first sign of which could be seen in his clothes. He was a wearing, the proper attire of course, a spic and span suit with a green tie. However there wasn't a fold to be seen in its a fabric, much less a stain, and that was entirely thanks to Horace's own care for his belongs, not the work of some bulter.

"Good morning, Mr. President. Ms. Khan. Ms. Saphine." Each name was accompanied by a small bow towards the recepient of his greeting. "I do apologize for my tardiness. I do hope I'm not too late. I take it Ms. Khan has already briefed you on her proposition Mr. President?"

IC:

"That's something I'm not sure of," Jennifer said to Maurader. "We obviously can only stand by and see what happenss. Its not like you can attack these Archangels without goinf rogue and having all of SHIELD and all of these angels focused on hunting you down." she moved forward now. She wanted to talk to one of them, see what they were like. Jennifer was a scientist and she wanted to observe.

She waved her arms at the nearest flying blue Archangel. "Hey! Hey you over here!"

NPC - Kris Kross:

"Then I'm afraid, Mr. Attempted Assassin, you are under arrest," the archangel said to Conrad, raising his pistol. "Hands on your head, please, and don't try to fight. It's really not worth it for you."

IC: (Leah - Wichita)

Unfortunately for Dustin, she had noticed his status as a teleporter, and teleporting behind the enemy was the most predictable move he could've executed. If that wasn't enough, he was reaching over her, awkwardly extending his torso. She leveled a kick directly at his chest.

Ooc: Jam with Douggy.

Ic:

Annie really didn't understand what Madysyn's problem was -- assuming there even was a problem in the first place. The White Queen hadn't done anything to her to deserve stigma, nor had she instigated anything within the club's domain to earn her any ire, least of all a woman she barely even knew as a name on the roster. So as she rounded the corners of the mansion in a huff she was breathing curses and NSFW phrases to sneer her ire out of her head. As she passed art pieces she flipped off anything that featured a face, calling some of the larger pieces "fat and #### ########" just to spit her spite out.

It was as she marched down a hall to head to her quarters to change into gym clothes that she encountered the closest thing the club had to its own knight in armor. He stopped in his tracks and saluted, which Annie understood from past experience to be the callsign for, "Hi, how can I help you today?" Only a blue vest with yellow print on the back along with a dissatisfied face that reeked of a lost 401K, two too many divorces and a loathing of management could have made it any more easy to read.

Anberlyn stopped and looked at the knight before sighing to herself. It was the first distraction from the previous confrontation she could enjoy and she wasn't going to let that chance slip away. She basically forced herself to take the opportunity to talk with something that wouldn't get into a cockfight with her; or she hoped not. "Do you have a status report on the grounds?" she asked. If the knight so much as gave her an inch of lip, though...

The Knight nodded. "All runs smoothly," he said, having nothing to report, mournfully. He hadn't seen action in weeks, and he had begun to wonder if he'd become a glorified security guard. Not that the club had any issues with security, of course. As hard as he prayed, not a single breach of the walls or bomb threat. Not to say there was a lack of tension among the Hellfire club; he had noticed Annie's vulgarity and originally decided to keep his head down about it. However, he likely wouldn't find out what was going on otherwise, and it wasn't like anyone was rushing to confide in him.

"Something troubles you?"

"Lots of things," she sighed and rolled here eyes. "You wouldn't understand." She plucked a Davidoff and slipped it between her teeth. She stood there, looking at the 'knight' with expecting eyes. "'You going to stand there like a piece of medieval decoration or do you legit not have a light on you?"

As fate would have it, he did indeed have a lighter on him, and quickly produced it. With a flick, he lighted the cigarette, all but emotionless as he waited for her to continue speaking. Though she had originally implied that he could not comprehend the situation, he found it likely that she would go on anyway.

"Thanks," she whispered under her breath as she took the initial drag of nicotine. "Turns out you understand at least one thing." The smoke flowed into her lungs and calmed her nerves almost instantly, visibly relaxing her with each inhale.

She wanted to ask the knight when Madysyn had arrived to the grounds but quickly realized the futility of the question; it was almost impossible to keep track of the shapeshifter anyway. It wasn't practical to ask about that, but as it was she didn't know much about the man before her. "What brought you to the club?" she asked him.

He smelled the smoke. It was something he hadn't experienced in a very long time. That smell...it brought him back to the night he'd entered America. The coast had smelled of smoke. The people there had smelled of smoke. Though he was disappointed that she had change the topic, the smoke opened up his past. He remembered the night he'd come to the club, his powers still activated, but fading quickly. He was on the run. He had heard of the Hellfire club, and though it was no institution for lost mutants, he knew that the club represented stability. Security. He need only pledge his service. That was the night he responded to a 'help wanted' sign that didn't exist. He could fight, slash, and shoot like no other. He was a perfect soldier. If he hadn't been, that night and the succeeding few days might've been much different.

All this he portrayed through his eyes as he answered, "safety."

"Huh. And do you feel safe?"

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, before slowly, cautiously nodding. "And you?"

"No, and you shouldn't, either." It actually wasn't a lie -- she didn't feel safe. Not when legionnaires and snappy wild cannons roamed the rooms to appear whenever they wanted and threatened her every action, as they had just moments before. "If I did I would be stupid. I'm not the blonde one here; I know the elements at play," she said and flicked the ash off the cigarette and it fell to the stone floor.

The Knight nodded understandingly. He wanted to voice his support, but could not find a valid way to do so. He thought to the reasons he needed safety in the first place: his decidedly inconvenient haywire mode. This led to his next question: "powers?" he inquired, leaving her to draw her own conclusions as to how that related to the topic at hand.

She knew what he meant. In a world rife with people who flaunted their god-given (or not) abilities to get their stake in fame and power she had to have something to help her stand her ground. She did, but that wasn't the point. The Black Knight was helpful enough and dedicated to this job, but that loyalty was always at a price, and even if she could put the mysterious man in her pocket she still wouldn't be giving him her insights on her strengths.

"I'm a Worthington," she answered simply. "You figure it out." She blew her acrid smoke into the knight's helmet and through the mask. "Anything else isn't your business."

He nodded, as if to say 'of course' and crossed his arms. He wasn't sure what being a Worthington had to do with anything, as he had never seen either of them in action. He gestured to the gnarly-looking ring on her finger, somewhat curious as to if it had any...interesting qualities.

"What?" Annie pipped. "Ohhh, you want to know about this ring," she said and tilted the jewelry at the knight and rubbed its face with her other hand, precariously balancing the Davidoff between her fingers as she did so. "It was a gift... from my brother," she said with a slight glint in her eye as she recalled the moment Ric gave her the cheryaphim ring. It represented more than the basic bond the siblings shared; to her, it was a symbol of warding against death. It was almost ironic how she, who saw herself as a herald of death itself, wore the one thing that would protect her from the scourge that followed her. Unlike Ric, though, she hadn't had a use for the ring yet, and she didn't want to until she faced her father.

She smiled thinly. "We wear matching rings."

The Knight observed, but didn't say more of the ring. Instead, he simply marveled at the fact that two perfectly sane adult siblings would wear matching jewelry. He mentally shrugged, moving on. He figured he could move the topic back to its original state in absence of a viable alternative one. "Having troubles today?" She had already addressed this, so his question could've come off as redundant, but since she was smart enough, she would see it for what it really was: A moment of respectful insistence.

"Only a few," she answered and took one last, long drag on the cigarette before crushing it in her fist and tossing it into a nearby dustbin. "I'm not exactly in the mood to be chatty-cathy with you about it, but thanks for the light," she said as she stepped away and up the grand staircase. "If anyone starts calling my name down the halls, longingly or nefariously, be a dear and let me know," she asked near the top of the staircase, looking down on the Knight who watched her vanish into the second floor. "I don't like surprises. Tata~"

Annie wasted no time in getting to her apartment and ripping her clothes off in preparation for a midday run and workout. She needed some space, some freedom from the stuffy confines of the mansion and its shadow games, and quickly found herself outside and on the grounds in tights and an athletic top, her wings streaking behind her like a motion blur as she bolted around the garden.

NPC - Kris Kross:

 

"Then I'm afraid, Mr. Attempted Assassin, you are under arrest," the archangel said to Conrad, raising his pistol. "Hands on your head, please, and don't try to fight. It's really not worth it for you."

IC:

Conrad raised his hands halfway and then took a side step to the right and a bit backwards. He watched as the archangel's pistol followed him to his new position.

"I'm sorry my winged friend, but I'm afraid I can't be detained." Conrad's hand flew towards his side now as he attempted to grasp his pistol bring it up and fire at Kriss Kross. Knowing very well that most likely both Archangel's would shoot him where he stood.

Knowing very well that most likely both Archangel's would shoot him where he stood.

 

NPC:

They did.

NPC:

"That could have gone better," Marky Mark commented neutrally as he and Kris Kross walked over to a howling, wounded Conrad. Each of their bullets had gone clean through one of his knees, leaving escape inevitable and sending him to the ground. Kris Kross took the pistol off him while Marky Mark rolled him over and cuffed him.

The HYDRA goon was alive, but he wouldn't be escaping anywhere far, unless he jumped off the roof. In the meantime, he was in the clutches of the United States government's finest new supersoldiers.

And they had a bone to pick.

-Tyler

"It's perfect." [Lilliana] said with a smile as she walked in. She walked around the room, inspecting the room thoroughly.

 

"Yes yes... I'll put some bookshelves here.." She nodded with satisfaction as she gazed at one of the bare walls.

Ic: "So tell me, why did you come back?" Quinn asked while casually reclining by the window and looking outside at the gloomy New England winter sky. "I mean, there are plenty of other directions a teaching career can go and this isn't the most venerable of them, in all honesty, so you must have a reason."

IC [Nizhoni/Wichita]

This was about the point where Nizhoni took advantage of the distraction to jump the thief, leaping forward and grabbing the gun arm while making an effort to knock the thief to the ground again. Meanwhile the assembled officers tried to decide whether to shoot the moshpit, and decided that there were other methods, namely, a good riot baton to the back. Six of the officers ran foward, melee weapons in hand to try and get the three separated and contained.

IC: Lilliana

"I'm a mutant. That will never change. I wanted to teach at a place I could be me, no hiding what I am." She turned to face him as he gazed out the window.

"And I wanted to be here.. To help the students. Not only to help them love English literature but to also to help them grow and to be okay with who they are."

IC:

In reality Conrad stood a few paces away unharmed. See, when he had moved he'd activated his illusion. He'd become invisible while the Conrad that had stepped over had been an illusion. The bullets had burst into the illusion's body.

Conrad stood still concentrating on his disraction and bending an illusion around himself to keep himself invisible. He only hope they left soon.

NPC:

"It could have," Kris agreed as he walked over to take the pistol - starting slightly when he felt his foot bump into something that seemed suspiciously like another foot. Already wary he continued walking over, taking the seemingly-Conrad's pistol, and looking around the roof. After a quite short moment, Mark spoke up:

"Something wrong, applesauce?"

"I dunno. I just feel like the three of us ain't alone up here."

IC: Aella

I pulled a currently unused pillow over my face to hide it. "I'm not embarrassed..." I said through the pillow.

IC:

When the police had arrived, Mycroft had instantly ceased running and put his hands up after slowly withdrawing his wallet from a pocket on his coat. Holding it open, a quick glance from the police had verified his license as a private investigator. After that, they didn't pay him too much mind; They did, after all, have much bigger problems on their hands. For his part, Mycroft lingered a few meters away, watching as Leah's esscape attempt degreaded.

He briefly pondered getting involved, but a moment's thought concluded that at that moment, doing so would be more harmful than beneficial. That concluded, he fished around in his pockets, withdrawing a cigratte and a lighter. A single flick later, thhe lighter vanished into his pocket again, and the detective inhaled deeply, eyes still fixed to the scene.

If Leah managed to escape from that, he was ready to act.

IC:

"That is the biggest lie I've heard in quite a while." Tera observed, tugging the pllow away from her face with more than a bit of amusement. "Come on, you don't need to be embarrassed about being embarrased, either."

OOC: Jameson post will most likely come tomorrow; They take substantially more effort than I have avilable to give one tonight.

IC: Aella

I tried to snatch the pillow back, but Tera was too quick. I pouted. "Hey that was my hiding in shame spot...give it back!"

IC:

"Hiding in shame is not permitted here." Tera scolded, though it was clear from her tone that the chastisement was meant good-naturedly. Leaning forward, she put the pillow behind her and leaned back on it.

"So, Aella, I take it you're not familiar with the concept of television?"

IC: Tasha

Everyone was being quite friendly and introducing themselves, it was a bit overwhelming. She hadn't expected such a warm reception.

She wasn't sure who to respond to first, so she just smiled politely.

IC: Aella

"What?" I cocked my head.

IC:

"That's what I thought. Just a moment." Tera glanced about for a moment before her eyes landed on the remote, laying on the table where Trinity had left it. Picking it up, she turned the TV on, surfing the channels for a moment before eventually settling on one that seemed decent.

"This is television, and it is how Americans spend far too much of their time."

Ic:

It was the morning... Kristen could tell that much. But... She didn't remember falling asleep in her bed-

She was still in lynaes room. The revelation came as a jolt to her, as she hasn't remembered falling asleep here. Not did she remember what her dreams were. Prior to this, it had been her, fending off her mind as her body rested from the voices. It was an uncomfortable affair, knowing that every time she fell asleep, she would have to continue her mental war. But this was different, she couldn't remember what had happened while she slept... But whatever happened, it made her skin crawl. Like a million spiders were crawling across her body. Or needles across her body as well, that might just be worse...

Whatever the cause was, it unnerved her, and no thought she had could give her solace. None. Slowly climbing out of bed, Kristen was pleased to note that nobody ha tried to change her clothes as she slept, that lynae hadn't feasted on her while she slept, an that the bruises from Joey were starting to fade away. A fact that pleased her to no end.

"Lynae..?" Kristen called, looking about for the vampire. She wasn't sure why, but something about lynae drew Kristen to her. Like a powerful magnetic. Whatever the cause, Kristen began to search for her, at te least, eager to get a start on the day.

IC:

Come on... come on... Conrad thought holding his breathing and straining to keep the illusion going and make it realistic. He needed to draw their attention away. Sure he could try to shoot them but that would only draw the attention of others. No, Conrad needed to lay low right now.

He needed a distraction. He focused on a rooftop about two blocks away and focused his power. He squeezed his fist before creating what looked like a small explosion, a flash of flame, then smoke. Hopefully the archangels would go to investigate leaving Conrad time to slip away.

There's no way I can detain the targets now... the area is too hot.

IC: Lynae

Lynae had left her study and began to walk down the hall, seeing a large cluster of people moving her way.

"Ah good morning Romulus." She said softly as she greeted him.

OOC: Flex, from what I've seen, in your power set for Conrad it says that he can't hold too many illusions at a time - it implies that he can really only make one or two - and that those illusions only ever last a moment or so before vanishing. From the way I and Tyler read it, you're ignoring the limits that you yourself set for your character's power, and that isn't going to fly.

IC:

When the explosion came out of nowhere, Kris knew something was up. Especially judging by how quickly the smoke seemed to disperse, and judging by the fact that there was a bit of air distortion in the air in front of him. Something rather slight, but it was getting more noticeable - almost as though somebody were fighting to maintain control on some sort of power. A quick turn of the head confirmed to him that that was most likely what was happening, as the illusion of Conrad that had been made looked quite insubstantial, now, as focus was split between it, maintaining an illusion of invisibility for the illusionist, and a fake explosion.

Raising his pistol, he shot near where he'd bumped into a man earlier, watching how the dust and fragments from roof tile flew up and promptly disappeared into an area just a couple inches to the left. Moving his pistol over quickly - far more quickly (or precisely) than another human or mutant might move - he depressed the trigger on his gun again, putting a round through what at first seemed to be thin air...then when the shoe and the blood showed up, along with the rest of the body, it was quite evident that it was a person he'd fired at. He brought his pistol back up, aiming at Conrad's head, right between the eyes. He was tired of this game.

"Move at all before I tell you too, and you can say goodbye to the world, kid," Kris threatened. "Understood?"

IC: Reyson

The HYDRA agent hadn't moved an inch ever since Persephone had dumped him in his cell nineteen hours ago. Sitting in perfect siddhasana, back to the wall, hands in the gyan mudra, he was deep in meditation, and probably wouldn't wake up if the roof caved in at that very moment. "In; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Hold; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Out; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10." He was no adept in yoga, but the teachings he had received in Medieval India had helped him to focus and to centre himself.

Not that it helped his sanity, though Reyson wouldn't know that.

In fact, it was impossible for Reyson to truly clear his mind, for whenever his thoughts settled down, the voices of the Earth (as he called them) would only grow stronger. Speaking in strange languages that Reyson could understand for some reason, maddening cries of pain and suffering filled his mind, not stopping in his sleep or at any other moment. For as long as man polluted the air, massacred the forests, and violated the ground, the Earth-and Reyson, due to his mutation-would never no true rest.

A slight voice, one he had never heard before, whispered in the back of his mind. Reyson could not tell what it said, but it definitely wasn't something that he was familiar with. As the voice was a whisper, he could tell that it wasn't doing too much damage at the moment, but the arrival of this new speaker troubled him. "What could it possibly be?" he wondered.

Ic: Quinn smiled genuine as he looked back to Lilliana. "Then I think you'll do better than most teachers here, Ms. Schneider. A lot of the lot don't have the heart in their jobs. I'm glad you do." He sincerely hoped her idealistic approach wouldn't be jaded by the end of her first quarter; the academy needed more of her type.

****

Ic: The finely trimmed hedges turned into greasy spoon facades as Anberlyn found herself sprinting down Memory Lane, New York City. She was seventeen and on the run.

Sirens blared behind her as the cop cruiser gave her a chase. This didn't happen too often; most of the time her gang was careful enough to avoid the authorities, or the authorities were payed to cast a blind eye to their activities, but this time it seemed like they had a pair of hardasses on their case who actually payed attention to their surroundings. Plus the heist was happening in the daylight. Annie never did have a good opinion of the heist and this pretty much nailed her suspicions.

She had several things going for her: Physically, she was thin as a stick, light as a feather and quick as a bullet, but more than that she knew the streets effortlessly and easily maneuvered down their fares. The cops, on the other hand, had their clunky Dodge Charger, which while perfect for high speed chases was absolutely worthless in tracing the lithe little girl as she ducked and jumped down alleys and fire escapes, even with the sirens clearing the way. She was just too small to catch, though Annie was far from overconfident; that was what got the gang into the mess in the first place.

Backup was on their way in what she figured was four minutes tops, meaning she had less than that to make her getaway. A plan was already formed in her mind, that clever little noggin that calculated at a constant cocaine-sped rate. Zip. Zip. Zoom. Bang. The cruiser chasing them had to be dealt with, now.

"You, go straight!" she commanded, her juvenile voice contrasted with unwavering authority. The two buddies at her back did as she told them without question and remained steadfast in their sprints, rushing past pedestrians without slowing down. This was all but rehearsed in gang off time, an evasive tactic mostly directed against other organized crime arms but just as effective against the law: She delays the pursuers, the others await further instruction.

Annie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face the cruiser. Unlike them, she was a tiny, fast moving target, so any retroactive shots would have a near nil chance of hitting her, quite unlike the lumbering, much larger target the car afforded her. She pulled her 1911 from the small of her back and popped three bullets right into their windshield just as the car sped by her and screeched around to a halt, and then she ducked under a parked Ford Fiesta to wait for the cop's reactions.

Only one door opened up, on the far side from the sound of it, which meant she scored one kill. She rolled down to the next car up, a Honda with a half-rusted paint job, before rising up and catching the cop by surprise. He was just shouting into his radio when two more shots from her gun hit him in a lung and the jugular, bad shits by any standard but she was in a hurry. He was still flailing around, cupping his throat and gurgling into his handset before the life finally drained from him entirely.

What crowd was still on the sidewalk had scattered by that point, no longer ignorant of the violence around them and some downright scared, and rightfully so. Even on the mean streets it wasn't often that they saw an ectomorphic teenage girl gun down a couple cops as effortlessly as she would probably tear a beanie baby apart.

But the pause was short-lived as she could already hear the blaring of more sirens coming her way. She pulled her cell phone out and punched in a group text:

Scram. Meet @ Classon Sta in 30. *Send.* She slid the phone into her black jeans and kept going.

She deftly ducked into a storefront and bolted through the little aisles of ethnic groceries as she made her way to the back entrance, ignoring the incomprehensible foreign cursewords being rattled off at her and silencing them altogether with another round from her gun shot over the clerk's head. The gathering sirens grew muted outside as she collected herself in the stairwell behind the store. Six shots fired, which meant she had one more in the magazine and one in the chamber (because she always had one in the chamber). That wasn't enough for an even marginal stand but she wasn't dumping the gun yet.

She grunted in distaste as she kept going up the narrow stairwell up the grungy apartment building and giving the finger to the bystander in a hallway who just watched with shocked eyes as Annie raced by up to the next floor. One more flight of stairs and she reached the top floor and the rooftop escape door. She turned the lever. Locked. That's why she kept the gun.

Two shots, one on the handle and one in the deadbolt, and the metal disintegrated with her kick. As soon as the door swung open she sprawled out into the open air of the tar-covered rooftop and scanned the sky for choppers. Seeing none, the skies were hers for the taking and nobody could deny it to her.

That was the fun part for her. It was known enough that the queen of Brooklyn was a mutant and that she could fly with the eagles, but that never lessened her joy at taking flight and leaving the troubles to the earthlings. She tossed her leather jacket off, tied its sleeved around her thin waist and flexed her wings open so that they ripped right through her tee shirt and fanned out. She stretched quickly, loosening her skeleton and wing muscles, before taking one last look around. A black guy with a samurai sword gawked at her from a nearby rooftop, framed by coops of fowls, to whom she pointed her index finger at and clicked her tongue as a "goodbye!" before she leaped off the side and into the confines in the streets.

She swooped between buildings and aired-out laundry, feeling the rush of air as it fluttered past her, feeling free from all restraints. There were no burdens when she was airborne, nothing to hold her back, and it was in moments such as that that she truly felt like a Worthington. She still hated the name, which she retained out of spite, but she figured that it was in law-defying moments like the one she was in that she could satire her father the most. While he was supposedly a superhero, she was playing a villain, an antithesis of what he represented to others.

Bullets whizzed by her harmlessly as she spun and dived away into the safety of another street, leaving the cops and their weapons at a complete loss against Annie's powers. It wasn't much longer before she completely lost the cops and landed safely somewhere in a shadowy corner of Brooklyn, tucked her wings away tight and flipped her jacket on before pulling a Davidoff from her back pocket and striking a light. The sun had just gone down, casting long shadows that were finally swallowed up by the murkiness of the streets. In no time, Annie Worthington was just another tough girl on the streets stepping into a subway station's underground.

That was back then, when she was queen and the city was her oyster, when she was free and could be reckless. Anberlyn's trip down Memory Lane ended as soon as she touched down in front of the Hellfire Mansion and she stepped through the wooden doors into the reception hall. Her wings still hung limply at her back, ruffled from her flight, a last F-U to the rules she had to abide by in her position as White Queen. Then, she was restrained by rules and politesse, she couldn't get away with everything (or much at all) and things were expected of her.

That was what being a Worthington turned out to be, apparently. It was about money and parties and fast cars and tailored jackets and good hair -- things Annie had lived for a score of years not wanting. All she ever wanted was vengeance against her father for leaving her defenseless against the real world, depriving her of basic rights meant for her as a daughter. She never understood why he did it, but she was determined to find out.

Being a Worthington meant a lot of things... and Anberlyn was still not sure what those meanings actually were.

Her wings draped behind her like a wedding dress tail as she jogged up the stairs and into her apartment for the second time that day. Tired from her exercise and relative lack of nourishment (aside from a good breakfast earlier in the day), she locked the door behind her and collapsed on her huge bed, quickly falling asleep.

She didn't wake up until late the next morning when her phone went off and she scrambled to reach for it on her nightstand and punched the "answer on speaker' button.

*How darkly the dark hand met his end, he was withered and boney, exposed for a phoney, but we heed the last words--*

"Hey!" she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes and sat upright on her mattress, her wings scattered on the sheets on all sides of her lithe body.

IC: Mikhail

"It was what I did. Do you wish to have ice cream?"

IC: Lynae

"That is indeed good news." The vampire mused with a slight grin. "It is so troubling getting new windows installed."

IC: Lilliana

"Thank you... I really hope I do well. These kids need it."

My bad, I wasn't trying to ignore his power set, I wasn't too sure on it myself. I thought that he'd be able to at least make two illusions, and the small explosion was only for a few seconds, I did write him as straining and struggling to hold the other illusion until they went away but its fine.

IC:

The illusion around Conrad fell away and he appeared standing before Kriss Kross. His eyes were filled with hatred and pain as blood slowly seeped out of his wounded foot.

"**** you SHIELD dog."

IC:

"Eyyyy, little sister. Time to chat?"

On his end of the line, Ric smirked to himself and poured a bowl of cereal one-handed. Might as well get this done on a full stomach. If she wants to chat on the phone, all the better. Let Song or Lacey keep a transcript. The family would be better off for it. If she wanted to come up here, that was cool too. Alaric could pour another bowl.

-Tyler

IC:

"What's the ice cream?"

IC: Mikhail

"Frozen confectionary."

NPC:

"I'd watch the tongue there, Dr. Evil," Marky Mark warned, his pistol aimed squarely at Conrad's temple even as Kris aimed his own firearm at the HYDRA man's forehead. "Today's not a good day to yank America's leash."

The two Archangels moved in as one and Marky Mark plucked the pistol from Kaufmann's hip and pointed that at the would-be sniper, too. Meanwhile, Kris circled around him quickly and cuffed him, stepping on his good foot to prevent him from moving anywhere. "What's the deal with the rifle, huh? Got so caught up in gunning down a couple of passers-by that you didn't think to look up?"

-Tyler

IC:

"What?"

NPC:

"Maybe Mr. Potter here forgot to put his invisibility cloak on earlier," Kris supplied, before looking back at Conrad. "Also, sorry, but I don't like you that much. Offer not accepted."

IC:

Conrad said nothing. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. He'd failed Red Skull. He was going to be captured. He'd been so close to his targets too.

The only spot of hope was that Conrad was currently wired so somewhere his comrades at hydra would know he was being detained be shield there was a slight chance that they may try to retrieve him if they felt he could give out information. Conrad knew he would never speak however, he was a trained interrogate himself.