Marvel, Rebirth:

IC:

My phone started ringing suddenly, making me jump a little. I quickly slid it out of my pocket and read the number.

Wonderful.

I grudgingly answered it. "Hello, Mom."

IC: Ashley

"Tell your Mom I said hi!" Ashley put in helpfully.

IC: Red Skull

For the second time in the past 48 hours, another HYDRA agent had blundered on their mission to retrieve two escaped experiments. Two young girls that knew absolutely nothing about the world.

It was one of the most simplest of jobs, something that should have been a cakewalk for the agents. And yet somehow they'd failed miserably.

Red Skull was not happy to say the least. He activated his comm panel as he sat in his command center. "Someone retrieve Agent Reyson immediately, he needs to be questioned." Agent Reyson seemed to be unguarded in his current location, freeing him would be a simple matter. As for Agent Conrad...

The man was a complete and utter fool. According the the reports of his wetworks in the field, not only had he let himself be spotted out in the open by these new Archangels, but reports were saying he had managed to reveal who he was, what is mission was, how many targets he had, and had managed to get himself captured in the space of a few minutes.

This was not acceptable. Either he was the most incompetent fool ever to dare call himself HYDRA or he was an outright traitor. He had to be eliminated.

"Agent Conrad has no use to us and is a major liability. Issue Order 66"

IC: HYDRA NPC - SHIELD safehouse -

Reyson was in fact hearing the sound of the cell door clicking open. A masked man donning the colors of HYDRA stepped inside.

"Come Agent Reyson. Red Skull wishes to speak to you personality."

IC: HYDRA Sniper - NYC -

"It shall be done my Lord." A HYDRA assassin with an unknown name and past answered his lord and savior. From his vantage point in a bathroom window he had a clear shot of Conrad. Aiming his VSS Vintorez silenced sniper rifle, with bullets that were loaded with the same poison Red Skull used in his trick cigars. The sniper aimed for a headshot carefully.

He fired.

IC:

Jameson chuckled softly, much of his previously jovial nature returning at Saphine's comment. "Truthfully, Ms. Saphine, I'd like to be back home for the game too. But unfortunately, I have to settle for watching it on DVR and firing anyone who spoils it for me."

He raised an eyebrow as Horace entered the room, steepling his fingers after a moment's thought. "Indeed she has, Mr. Horace, though I must admit that I'm surprised you're on board with a suggestion so far outside of your usual purview."

IC:

"This," Tera said, beginning to surf through the channels again. "Is television. Hundreds of channels, each with dozens of shows both fictional and nonfictional, and a few somewhere in between, operating twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Modern entertainment."

Settling on a channel, she gestured towards the TV. "This, for example, is a show called 'The Walking Dead'."

IC: Sierra/NPC

I gave a quick nod to Ashley before answering Mom's question about where I was.

"I'm with...acquaintances."

"And what, might I ask, are you doing with said acquaintances?"

"Um, just hanging around." I lied.

"Last time you said that, you were in Las Vegas getting a near fatal stab wound."

"Well, I'm not in Las Vegas, and I'm not dying, so why are you so concerned all of a sudden?"

"I'm interested in your life, sweetie."

"Are you high?! You've never been interested in anything related to me before!"

IC: Ashley

"We're flying in a jet!" Ashley chirped, hoping that was helpful.

IC: Aella

I soaked in the words, though I'd process their full meaning later. There were a lot of gross looking people that really seemed to be just walking dead people...right that was the name of the show. I guess that made sense.

"Please tell me this show is completely and utterly fictional." I winced at the amount of carnage I was seeing, I prefered how I'd killed HYDRA agents during my escape as opposed to this, not as...messy.

IC:

"Yes, it is. And in hindsight, it's really not a good choice of viewing for the moment. Let's see what else I can find." A few more clicks of the remote and the previous show was gone, rapidly cycling through several more, eventually settling on another one.

"Ah, Burn Notice. A much better choice."

IC: Aella

With each click the screen changed drastically, jarring my senses every single time. I felt relieved when Tera finally settled on this 'Burn Notice',

For the life of me though I couldn't figure out what the characters were doing on the screen. There was a man and a woman and they were doing things I'd never seen before.

"Umm..." I started, though I wasn't sure exactly how to ask Tera about it, for the lack of words to describe it. "What...what are they doing?"

IC:

"..."

"..."

"Bad choice." The New Yorker announced, a hint of red tinging her face as she pressed the channel button several more times, as if looking for something that couldn't possibly backfire in any way, and failing significantly. Finally, after almost a solid two minutes of searching, she settled on something.

"Star Trek: The Next Generation. That can't go wrong."

IC: Aella

I was feeling quite relieved that Tera had changed the channel again, whatever that man and woman had been doing was weird and looked gross. Why would anyone want to do what with a man? Yuck.

Logging that far into the recesses of my mind to be forever forgotten, I focused on this new show.

"Oh they have mutants in this one. Cool." I was liking this show already. The characters were dressing in rather funny, colorful clothing though.

IC:

"Not mutants, aliens." Tera corrected, settling back on the couch, once more occupying the very small space that Aella was not. "And thankfully, very few episodes that involve anything that I don't want to explain."

"Unlike Burn Notice."

IC: Mikhail

"It is tasty. Like pancakes. Want some?"

IC: Aella

"Oh." I wasn't sure what the difference between aliens and mutants was exactly, but I didn't feel like asking. I was more curious about something else. I watched this Star Trek with interest, it didn't seem to be anything like real life and yet it was very entertaining.

The character called Commander Riker and the one called Deanna Troi were looking at each other like they just wanted to hug or something. Almost like from the other show...except they didn't act on it, thank goodness.

I felt like I was missing something again, something I should have been aware of and yet the knowledge was out of my reach. It was starting to bug me.

"So is Riker and Troi like really good friends or something? They react to each other strangely."

Ic:

"Yes!" Trinity exclaimed, "but let me find more of the stuff that Aella and Tera have."

And with that, trinity strode past Mikhail, bare feet hitting the floor and the top half o her jumpsuit bouncing at her waist as she went to search for the things that were called clothes.

IC: Marauder

As he walked down a Manhattan street, making his way to his jet. He made a comm channel to Vivus.

"Vivus, this is Marauder. What's your position?"

IC:

"Um, gotta go! I'll call you when I get back!" I said quickly, shutting off my phone. "If she knows I'm doing something dangerous, she'll flip out." I said to Ashley.

IC:

"...."

"I stand corrected." She sighed, leaning back and massaging her temples, thinking about how best to tackle the issue. Finally, she opened her eyes, and glanced at Aella, frowning slightly.

"I guess you could say that they're good friends, but that's not exactly it."

IC: TLAW-001 Vivus

As he walked towarda his jet Vivus received Maurader's call. "I am nearing my jet," he responded. "Anything I need to know?"

OOC: Hopefully I didn't miss too much.

IC Reyson

"... This is about my failure, isn't it?" Silently, Reyson got up and followed his retrieval agent. "I'm so ..."

OOC Any chance that we can jam Reyson and Skull's "talk?"

IC: Ashley

"We're not doing anything dangerous though!"

IC: Aella

"Not exactly?" I cocked my head. "I know I'm asking a lot questions about this but it's really starting to nag at me."

​OOC: @ Man of Miracles - Yeah we could do that.

IC:

"Try telling that to an overly concerned parent who's trying to make up for ten years of no contact whatsoever."

IC: Marauder

"No activity has happened so far here in Manhattan. I'll stay here for an hour and report back to base. Though angels have fallen from the sky. It may sound strange, but it's not. I need you to find out more of on the Archangel project. These guys give me the creeps, but these next-gen soldiers may have some other connection than just 'security'."

He looked around, and then went behind a tree.

"Make sure no one knows about you searching for them or that I told you. I have a bad feeling about this."

OOC: All you missed is the Archangel summoning. Nothing to huge.

IC:

Conrad's head exploded. Literally. The remains of his head and brains splattered all over Kriss Kross and most likely Marky Mark if he was standing close enough.

NPC:

"...And that's why you always leave a note."

-Tyler

IC: Mikhail

"I will be in the living room."

Ic:

Trinity files that tidbit away in the "people: where they are section", before joining Aella and Tera.

"Hey. Do you know where I can find more of these?" Trinity asked, tugging upon Aella clothes.

NPC:

As brain matter and blood splattered across his face, Kris retreated slightly in shock, growling something about how he just can't catch a break, before noticing something. Where before it had looked like Conrad's head had exploded, it had really only vented a good amount of its inner material, with some fracturing of the skullcap; the scalp, however, held it in. Slightly happy with that - after all, it was less mess - Kris almost sighed in relief...before he noticed just what was happening.

Kris had only seen pictures of Red Skull, or pictures of those who suffered death by his little poison trick. It seemed today he got to experience it in real life. It started from the entry and exit wounds, where the bullet had deposited its dust of death, the skin around that area first seeming to bruise, before taking on a startlingly crimson colour - and once it did that it began to spread much more quickly, the skin turning a blood red colour all over, drying out, shriveling up - every part of the man's skull put in stark view, as though it'd been chiseled from some red rock. As the skin shriveled up the cartilage in the man's nose started to break down slightly and weaken under the poison's effect, starting to crush down - before the skin over that area, already worn down thin and flaky by the poison, simply tore, letting whatever was left fall down - and revealing a skull that was already as red as the skin.

The ears shriveled down and pressed up tight against the side of the skull, while Conrad's hair started falling out, first in small little locks, then in large tufts, as his skull was pulled and pressed tightly by the crimson coloured, shriveling skin. As the last bit of hair fell off Kris heard a scraping sound, as the skin won out over a broken skull cap, pressing the broken bones into the cavity left when about a third to a half of Conrad's brain matter was vented out, blood leaking through small tears caused by the bones through the tight skin of Conrad's now-hairless scalp.

Kris shuddered as Conrad's cheekbones came into even starker view than before - not bad cheekbones, really, it was a sad sight - before the skin over them tore as well, and at the chin, while the red corruption spread partway down the neck, where it stopped...torn at the back of the head, at the top, over the nose and cheekbones, the eyes staring out with the same level of anger and slight fear they'd had before the man had been shot, yet the glare was worse now, with what his skull had been reduced to...his shriveled, broken-at-the-top skull, pressed in...

After a moment Kris let go, the body falling to the ground, blood leaking out through tears in the man's scalp, and through the already-made entrance and exit holes from the bullet. He looked over to Marky Mark, visibly shaken by that.

"...Christ, man. I didn't know it did that."

 

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

That was her, alright.

Cody had only just put down a stack of boxes when he turned around to see a familiar girl sprinting out of one of the Red Cross tents. It took a second, but then it clicked: it was the lone survivor he'd escorted to camp after the blast. And she looked pretty psycho, tbh. That, or scared out of her mind. Whatever it was, this looked like a job for...

[insert heroic music here]

Zephyr! Wooo!

The teen began to run after Katherine. She was fast, but he had an X-gene and its side effects on his side, so he managed to catch up to her without losing a breath.

"Hey," he said casually, as the two raced through a maze of scarlet tents and startled rescue workers. "Where you off to in such a hurry?"

IC: Mikhail

As both Aella and Tera were in the living room, Mikhail was too.

Except then he disappeared off to get a tub of ice cream, and soon returned with several bowls and said tub.

IC: Aella

"Ummmm...." I looked at Trinity, all shirtless and the like, I realized Tera probably wouldn't like that at all.

"Tera do you have clothes that would fit Trin?"

Ooc: Jam with my boy Aegon.

Ic:

Anberlyn rubbed her eyes a few seconds more before she slid and sat on the edge of her bed next to her phone. "Uhhhh yeahhhh I've got time," she said before going into a blinking fit. The late morning sun was harsh on her still-waking pupils but hearing Ric's voice was the real sunshine in her day's start.

"What's up?"

"Sure you wanna do this over the phone?" Ric piped up, popping a Cocoa Puff into the air and munching on it. "Business stuff. Lot of tedium."

"Oh boy, have things really gone so far that you have to talk business with me?" Annie joked. "This is a special occasion!"

"Yeah, so, remember that Terrigen that I had put on order a while back? The stuff you wanted flown to Africa?" Ric reminded her casually, easing into it slowly as he thumbed through a file folder of today's briefings - business and otherwise - and stopped on one particular page, affixed with map. "Funny story. It disappeared on the plane ride. Out of thin air."

"Disappeared?" Annie asked, clearly not interested.

"Yeah. They checked the cargo at Spain, everything looked legit enough, and then when the plane landed in Africa the Terrigen was gone. Local authorities said they suspected that the flight crew stole it."

"Probably did. Did you have them ask the flight crew about it?" Annie asked, clearly not interested.

All tedium, Ric thought with a smirk.

"Nope. They were coming into the airport fine, sending communications as normal, and when the plane landed someone had pulled a bait and switch with the Terrigen and the flight crew was all dead. If someone stole it, they must have been going a mile a minute."

"Sounds exciting," Annie said, clearly not interested.

"It does, doesn't it?" he asked casually. "It's not supposed to. It's supposed to be tedium. We're not supposed to be wrapped up in Sherlock-style ######. So I'm pulling the plug on Africa. Ix-nay on the enocide-jay."

"Which means there's an opposing force, big deal. We handle it and then move on," Annie droned, twirling a strand of hair lazily. "Besides, the terrigen represented only a minor aspect of the plan, and one implemented only after you brought up the stuff in the first place. If the plan doesn't move forward, Ric, the negative repercussions of Africa's booming population will affect the globe. You do understand what sort of opportunities that sort of chaos would offer to the villains who actually can't wait for it, right?"

Ric stood up and walked over to the sliding glass door that barred him from his balcony. The sun felt especially warm when he put his palm to the glass, so he slid it open and took a step back as the morning wind made a push into his quarters. "You need to make some friends. The others are uncomfortable around you. Did you know I spent most of an otherwise-lovely dinner date last night trying to argue for you to not have your wings ripped out and thrown to the balcony? You're White Queen. Start acting like it.

"In any case, I've already made the arrangements. Your contacts are my contacts too, don't forget. And I had all the money first. Whacking the indigenous is on the backburner for now. You'll thank me later." Alaric Carlisle popped another few Cocoa Puffs. Mmm. The ultimate chocolatey experience.

"Oh! Cha. Before I forget," Ric said, flopping down onto the couch again and admiring the way the sunlight glowed prettily on his ring. "That whole scheme where you and I get together and plan Dad's grisly demise? I'm eighty-sixing that, too. We have a new plan now."

"Mmmmmmmm," Annie mulled. It was typical, exactly what she hated about the high life of the Club: She wasn't free to move pieces around anymore, restricted by convention and fear. Even at the supposed peak of her power she was just another face on the wall, a casualty of cloak and dagger warfare that dumped her a far cry from the very unconventional mastermind she spent years honing and perfecting herself to be.

"So it's just as I smelled," she said, her tone hinting at the perceptive mind underneath all the feigned disinterest. "I knew something was up when three of the club's royals waltzed out all cordially without extending an invite to me. Heh. Of course I was the center of their conversation. Well, thanks for diverting the scalpel, I guess..."

The idea that Romulus was somehow a part of the terrigen's vanishing act did occur to her. He had his own plans in Africa, it seemed, and she never got along with the old fart anyway. To him she was probably a minor nuisance to be batted about, an interloping young vixen in a pond she wasn't made to swim in. There wasn't any evidence for that idea but she would try and find out if there was. Maybe she'd even put her old set of skills to the test again.

"Maybe it's just my imagination but people tend to socialize better with a hot young prince such as yourself and not the playground reject, Ric, which is exactly what I've been typecast as since Buffalo," she said, referencing the orphanage's school. "I'd be thrilled to make 'friends,'" she honestly stated, "evemn the biting kind, but if the others prefer secretly antagonizing me over being acceptable fellow clubmates there's not much I can do about changing their personalities." She shrugged to herself. She kept thinking about Romulus' antics. That old coot... "If you have any tips on how to be more, uh, White Queenesque, by all means lay them on me. I can still pick up new tricks.

"Annnnd... what's the plan about dad now?" she said, taking that news in relative okay stride. The old plan didn't really seem to be working, anyway, so she was open to alternatives. "Is it the bait-in-a-Ferrarri idea? I always wondered if Warren actually is attracted to shiny things." That would explain why he went all ADD on me, she grimly surmised.

"I'm going to give him a call," said her older brother simply, "and you're going to forgive him. I want us to be a family. All of us."

"Forgive him?" she almost blurted. "That is so counter to everything in my entire life. I've been hunting for answers as to the why, I've been hunting him -- that's what brought us together in the first place, Ric. It's what drove me to land squarely in your coupe. It's been my fuel despite sleepless nights, despite getting abused in Buffalo, trashed on the streets, thrown out of windows in Brooklyn to see if 'Freaky Feathers' cared enough about herself to open her wings and save herself. And to be honest, I didn't, but I cared enough about getting to my father and putting a bullet in his brain to save myself."

She breathed heavily, apparently taxed with anxiety from reliving those memories in addition to Ric's new plan. It hurt, it all did, and it wounded her more severely than being told the other royals just wanted her clipped and flogged. It was her childhood all over again. She was the feathered freak, the social outcast, the unimportant little girl, the vixen in the corner. What she felt didn't matter, what she thought didn't carry weight, what she believed in was toyed with.

She buried her head in her hands and silently sobbed. Ric's end was silent for a long while, maybe out of understanding, maybe of confusion, maybe he didn't know what to say. Maybe there wasn't anything to say.

Was that what it all boiled down to? Was history bound to repeat itself? Was Anberlyn doomed to go back to the vicious cycle of being little Annie, light and pretty as a bird but thrashed by bullies who could throw any weight around? She had to take stock of what she had. The money didn't matter -- she lived a childhood without needing it much. The society didn't matter -- it was part of being a Worthington, she thought, though she was made for the hard life, not that stuffy mansion's halls. All that long, hard road had ever actually, truly rewarded her with was Alaric, someone she actually loved and cared for. There was no pricetag on Ric's smile, no relevance of his fancy clothes, he was a brother and family and that was all Anberlyn required.

She didn't have a vendetta with Ric, only with her dad. She didn't expect any sort of forgiveness could be extended to Warren, not after the long road, but maybe history didn't have to repeat itself. Maybe, just maybe, she could have the answers she needed all those years. And maybe, when she met Warren for the first time in nineteen years, she didn't have to carry a loaded Glock with her. Despite the whirlwind Ric was handing her ###### right then over the phone things had turned out okay with him.

She doubted it, but maybe, just maybe, she could give this whole 'family' ###### a chance. But first she needed another type of answer. She leaned her face in close to the phone's microphone and whispered a single, simple word into it:

"Why?" she asked. It wasn't a why-are-you-doing-this or a why-are-fou-forgetting-my-whole-life-story, but just a why-are-we-doing-this-now? The ice had been broken; Ric had shattered her anticipations. The avenue was open. Now all he had to do was get her on the same page.

He could hear her sobbing through the phone line; it ran counter to the birds singing outside, and the thrum of traffic. Life was running back through the veins of New York City, even as it slowly sapped out of Anberlyn Worthington on the other end of the line. He looked down at his cell phone, at the simple text he'd drummed up to Romulus. Send the Legion. His thumb sat against the side of the phone. Send or End. He could get through to his sister. He knew he could.

"We don't have the luxury of centuries, sister. We're just people. Practically kids, to them, and every second counts. For a year, I've kept us alive and in charge, Annie. With charm alone." Ric's voice was soft. Annie was sobbing on the other end. He'd only heard his sister yell once in his life, and now she was sobbing. It wasn't like her at all. An act? thought something infinitely more cynical, the Black King inside him, but it was a brother who had dialed the phone. Not the Black King. "I kept Nicole charmed and content, because you're right, as insipid and dull as she is she is the last probable person Warren would expect to be on his tail. I date and dance and flirt with Lynae, and I talk history and tactics and politics with Romulus, and I chat with the enforcers and get to know their life stories. I've learned a lot about all of them. Romulus wants to rule the world, Lynae craves affection, and you...you have the high life, and now you want to kill the people who kept it from you in the first place.

"Me, on the other hand? I drink as much as I can in front of each of them, and I talk about my old life, about home, Warren, Ashlynn. For a year, I've let them think that I'm an alcoholic, that I waffle decisions, that I don't have the guts for this, that I'm untreated and post-traumatic stressed. And I've kept them charmed and confident, confident to the point where they all forget to ask what it is that I want. I've acted for a year. I'm not acting anymore."

"What do you want, Ric?" Annie asked, soft as death. He could hear a tear drip against the mic. He smiled.

"Our sister is coming home as we speak, Anberlyn. Our family is creeping back together at the seams. I've grown to like this club, and I mean to keep us on top of it - all of us. A family, once and for all."

Somewhere, underneath the leather and the caked layers of blood and the ego and the snark, under everything that made Anberlyn Worthington, he knew that his sister was listening. How could she not? This was an Alaric she'd never seen. This was a King.

"With or without you."

In his free hand, his phone sat heavy, the weight of freedom or capture, a queen or a beggar. A sister. His thumb brushed the Send button, but did not press. Yet.

She cringed. Annie bloody cringed. Her whole body went tense as though a thousand crabs poked her before latching on with their sharp claws.

She should have been used to it, expected it even. Wealth had deadened her and made her placid. Alaric's latest sentence cut sharper than Romulus' scalpel ever could and more painfully than the headmisstress' whip.

So this is what it comes to, she thought. Me, the one who wore the family name like armor, being pushed aside in the name of family. It was only natural. In the world she knew all too well emotions held no candle to practicality, and if she was deemed a danger to a fickle foundation she had to be handled accordingly, brusquely, dangerously. She had no doubt her brother already had a finger hovering over a red button, real or imagined, ready to press the ugly thing. It was sensible.

Contrary to what Alaric thought, she had seen this kind of man before a year before when the twins overtook the old guard of the Club. She knew what he could do if he needed to, wanted to. Alaric wasn't the sort of guy to base actions on whimsy, he was a scholar and tactician who thought at light speed and figured things out far quicker than even Annie could try. Annie was strong, powerful in her own right, hardened like a diamond, but even diamonds could shatter. She knew better than to hassle with tempered steel. She couldn't, not already besieged on all other fronts by fellow schemers and plotters. She wouldn't be able to rise against her brother. It would betray everything they had.

All her life she dreamed of being at the top, dreamed of having love and loving in turn. Alaric had shown her a glimmer of both despite all the strings attached. In his own, businesslike form Alaric was giving her an opportunity for everything she ever wanted. A chance to ask her father why he did it all. A chance to have a family. A chance to own a part of something meaningful. And most importantly a chance to start things over. Maybe this time, now that everyone was older, wiser and more accomplished, history wasn't going to send her back to the orphanage. Maybe this time things can go okay.

Things are going to be okay, she reassured herself. You just have to take what is offered. Things will be okay.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay what?" Ric inquired. That could have meant anything coming from Annie's clever lips.

"We're going to be a family." A beat. A sigh of relief on the other end. No red buttons of doom needed to be pressed that morning. "But let me make one thing crystal clear: I'm never having kids so don't expect us to get any bigger than the four of us."

NPC:

A student of unknown powers is in his room, door wide open. Only one light is on, which is his lamp on his nightstand. He plugs in his guitar amplifier into the wall, and sets the volume up high.

The student was a mysterious one, since he mostly he kept to himself. But many people probably did not notice that there is a scar runnind across his neck, where his vocal chords where severed and his voice was lost. He dressed very formally due to his charcoal grey Hilfiger winter coat with blue, red, and dark grey scar which was attached to the collar by some string. He wore a medium to dark grey dress shirt with a satin black tie, and black dress pants with a black blazer over his shirt, yet under his coat. He wore black dress socks with a very nice and polished pair of blsck shoes.

He made his adjustments on the amp, then plugged the chord into the amp and electric guitar. He them adjusted his chords to the proper tuning for a specific song he was about to play. Getting his phone out, he put on his headphones and began finding his song file on his phone.

Once he found it, heset his volume to 14, and played the song. Immediately he put he phone away, and began to play to the tune.

OOC: That song would be this. http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Q59SUZSPIFM

Also, I didn't see a rule for NPC's so I really don't know of this is ok. :/

OOC: Ordinarily only staff and those staff-approved use NPCs, especially those with powers, for more than a one time use. Since I'm unsure of your intent with this char, I highly suggest PMing me or another staffer with the idea.

IC: "Well, this is an excellent way to start my first day. See, Warren? I'm bad luck."

IC:

Okay. She said okay. Probability of it being an act? Moderate. But that was okay in its own right, too. Her contacts were his contacts; scouring for new ones would be far more hassle than it was worth and if she kept the ones she had he would just stay informed on her dealings. If she wanted to play a convincing act, she had to tone it down for the Club members. If she stopped with the toning, she could be dealt with a little more pragmatically. At the moment, though...

"I'm so glad to hear you say that," he said softly, with a smile that had regained a little of its warmth. "Do me a favor and go out into the hallway outside your room. Tell the legionnaires that their services won't be required today. Try and tip one if you can. Just a twenty will do."

Send the Legion was backspaced into nonexistence and replaced with a more cheery, equally laconic icebreaker: Measures taken. If you want to see them, breakfast date. Bring Lynae. He thought for a second, then changed up the font for the rest of the text and typed -Ric, almost as a signature.

From the balcony, birds sang and swooped. He could hear vendors and pedestrians calling from the streets. The train rolled by while music and adverts blared across the gaudy, brazen surface of New York City. Outside, the world was singing.

-Tyler

IC:

John's motorcycle slid to a halt outside a bar. The bar was located off of the exit on a small stretch of road that also featured a McDonalds and a Waffle House. John climbed off his bike before opening the compartment under his seat. He pulled out a pair of black sunglasses he'd stashed there ages ago before pulling them on. He didn't want to alarm anyone do to his unatural eyes.

He then pulled the black duffle bag off his shoulder before stuffing the adamantium katanas inside before zipping it up and slinging it over his back again. John pulled down his hood before pushing open the door to the bar; wincing at the strong glow of the neon pink Open sign even behind his dark shades.

The bar was mostly empty. John shuffled up to the bar and took a seat.

"What can I get for you hun?" a blonde bar-wench asked as she rubbed a mug with a white disinfectant towl.

"I'll just take a beer." John grunted. He'd had problems drinking under age before but he doubted he'd have that problem now. Every ounce of youthful vigor had been beaten out of him. He looked a few years beyond his age now with his scars and his crooked jaw-line.

"You look like you've had it rough." the woman said as she slid the beer over to John. He nodded as he took a sip. Glancing into her blue eyes for a moment which only reminded him of his own blue eyes that his elder brother had cut out.

"Yeah, you could say that."

IC:

"Ah don't know about bad luck, but Matt Summers was killed by Daken. John tried to burry him himself, but Ah don't think he did it quite right..."

"Warren, is there anyway we can bury him the proper way? Ah didn't want to tell John what he was doing wasn't right, you know how he gets."

IC: Ashley

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Ashley said apologetically. "I haven't seen my parents in...gosh I haven't actually seen them since they dropped me off at the institute when I was six. They call me on my birthday though."

The seatbelt light activated and made lots of annoying beeping noises as the Blackbird began to descend downward toward the institute, they were almost home.

"Anyway, when we land we should figure out if Christine came back home or if she's still out there somewhere..."

IC:

"If your parents are alive and well, you should see them more often. Most of us don't have that luxury."

IC: Ashley

"I've been thinking about that actually...now that I'm older." Ashley sighed. "It would be easier if I knew where my parents are though."

IC:

"Are they in hiding?" I tried to ask this as tactfully as possible. "I don't know who my dad is, but I don't really care anyway."

IC:

"I..."

"Don't think I do." Tera commented, looking almost pained. "She's smaller than I am. We might be able to roll up the sleeves and pant legs, but we'd never be able to get the wait to fit, and they'd be horribly baggy."

"We'll need to go shopping to find anything that will fit her properly. I might be able to provide a t-shirt, but that's about it."