#c23plotdrop

[chromosome23hq]

JULY 31ST, 1998, An Omega Festival

Featuring: @yaren-avci, @leonxburch, and @anamikxha

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, Blood, Chris Evans

The festival was a hit! The New Yorkers celebrated in thanks to their city’s heroes. And as those heroes and celebrities, the Omegas all smiled brightly, both at their fans and Eurynome’s replacement. Though, it was obvious to Yaren Acvi that her new team was faking it. Their enthusiasm, the smiles, the speeches about how happy they were to have Yaren; it was all a façade. She was a snake, she knew it when another person was faking it. But that was fine, she didn’t need their full approval nor their comradery. While her mission required a snippet of it, it wasn’t the actual thing she needed from them.

Linda McCall gave each of the Sins missions to complete in New York. Yaren’s, or Wrath’s mission was to join the Omegas and to destroy the organization from the inside. While not what Linda promised the new mayor, which was one of her children who could keep the Omegas in line, the woman wanted more.

Ever since the creation of the Sins and her new position within the Mutant Research Department, she became obsessed with power. All it took was a silver of respect and control to have her scheming for more. So she schemed, she planned, and carefully placed her pieces onto the chessboard before finally making her move. And her first move was placing Yaren with the Omegas, the perfect start that will lead her down the road to success.

And Yaren– all of the Sins, actually– would do anything to ensure that she’ll succeed.

As each of the Omegas walked off the stage and to depart on their own, it was Han-Byul Song who stopped Yaren. Just before she could go find the other Sins, he called out her name. Turning around, she looked up at her new leader. “Sup boss?”

“I know that I’ve said this before but I just want to repeat myself.” Oh great, she thought to herself as she nodded her head. “We’re happy to have you here with us, really,” Han-Byul said. “Being an Omega… it’s not easy nor is it glamorous.”

“Really? Because it seems pretty glamorous with the festival and merch.”

He chuckled, a surprise really, Yaren wouldn’t have taken him to be the type who could laugh. “Yes, well, this is just the mayor’s way of thanking us,” he said. “But for what we actually do, protecting mutants and non-mutants alike, it’s a difficult job to do. It’s draining both physically and mentally.” She wondered where he was going with this. “So if it ever gets to a point where you can’t do this anymore, just tell me. None of us will hold it against you if you decide to leave anytime.”

Han-Byul didn’t have to worry about her, or any of them really, not like the Omegas will last much longer anyways. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Really.”

He nodded his head, probably not believing her at all. “Okay,” he said. “If you say so. Enjoy the rest of your night, Yaren.” With a final pat on her shoulder, Han-Byul walked away, heading after his husband. Yaren stood there, watching as the couple disappeared into the crowd, until she was the only Omega still standing behind the stage. Han-Byul Song, or Prism, displayed him as the perfect leader. Despite losing an Omega almost two months ago, he still welcomed her. Maybe if this situation was different, if she wasn’t a Sin, she would’ve appreciated the momentary warmness.

But she didn’t. It was unnecessary and clearly showed her that this mission was going to be an easy one to complete.

AUGUST 1ST, 1998, Joshua Daniel’s Penthouse

For many, Saturday nights were a night spent relaxing. Either with one's family, gathered together to watch a movie or a night spent at a restaurant. Or at the local club with friends, dancing and drinking in a poorly lit warehouse. Or it was spent alone at a bar, getting drunk and watching whatever sports channel was on. Either way, most spent it doing whatever activity made them happy. Except for the workaholic Joshua Daniels. Joshua arrived back in New York City after a five hour flight, excited to get home and collapse onto his bed.

He would’ve fallen asleep on the plane, to actually get some rest for once, but with the amount of work he still had to do… he couldn’t even rest. And it wasn’t just his work that sat on his mind, there was also the invite from a friend of his: January St. James. Just before he left for his business trip, the other met with him, that usual smile on her face and invitation in hand. Hellfire Club, an organization only for the most influential mutants in New York City.

At first, Joshua was hesitant of the organization and what it would offer, he remained neutral among all of the Brotherhood and Xavier Institute bullshit for a good reason! He just wanted to live a peaceful life without any fighting. Luckily for him, he was able to avoid the war that took place in June, but it only showed him that he couldn’t side with either of them.

But luckily for him, the organization wasn’t like that at all. It was just a neutral meeting space for mutants, he could do that. That wouldn’t ruin his life at all.

However, this wasn’t a moment to think about one's work or new organization, it was time for Joshua to head into his apartment and rest. Turning the doorknob, he walked into his apartment without any worries in the world. He closed the door, pushed his luggage to the side, and carelessly threw his jacket onto the coat rack. His apartment looked the exact same as he left it, all the lights were off, it was moderately cool inside, and the entire place was spotless.

And yet… something felt off.

Even if he wanted to shake off the feeling, he just couldn’t. Every alarm in his head was telling him to be on high alert, to be on the lookout for anything off. Fingernails grew longer and his head swiveled back and forth, trying to find anything that was out of place as he stepped closer into his apartment. For the most part, he couldn’t see anything that was off. It all looked the same as he left it. Maybe I’m just overthinking things–

Then he heard it, music that instantly filled the entire space. Turning to his left, he saw another man standing in front of his record player. The other’s back was facing him, his focus completely on the object. The sight of him made Joshua freeze up. Who in the world was this man?

“Joshua Daniels.” The other finally spoke, breaking the silence, though he didn’t turn to look at him. “The current CFO of Rogers & Co., a company that was founded by your great-grandfather before he passed it down to your grandfather who then passed it down to your father. Who… will pass it down to you very soon, is that correct?”

“It is,” Joshua answered. “Looks like you know of me, though I don’t know who you are.”

“Oh, we only know the basic stuff about you. You know, the information that’s posted in articles and a bit online, that’s the stuff we know.”

He frowned, head twisting to see a second person, a woman this time who was carelessly flipping through one of his books. “Which is great really, I loved reading all about you. Graduated from Harvard, started working for his family’s company as soon as he graduated, became the CFO at twenty-seven– you really accomplished a lot more than we did when we were twenty-seven!” She said, “But honestly… I want to know the stuff no one else knows. Such as why you’re forty and still single, do you plan on having kids, and why exactly is Catcher in the Rye your favorite book.” The woman closed the book, holding it in the air. “Look at this! This thing is filled to the brim with little notes he made, it’s cute!”

“I can’t believe you’re reading right now.”

“Says the guy who started playing music in someone else’s home.”

Joshua didn’t know who to pay attention to, the man who refused to look at him or the woman who was reading. But it was obvious that neither were paying attention to him, actually, they were acting very comfortable in his place. Acting as if this was normal and perfectly fine. It was starting to piss him off.

A puff of fire left his mouth as he launched himself for the woman, tackling her to the ground. His hand wrapped around her neck while he positioned his free hand just above her head, claws ready to pierce through her skull depending on her answer. “I don’t have time for any of this! Who exactly are the two of you and what do you want with me?”

Despite the life or death situation, the woman didn’t bat an eye at his actions. She just stared up at him, lips twisting upwards and a short laugh slipped through. “Didn’t you hear what I said, Mr. Daniels? I said that I want to know stuff that others don’t know about you.”

“Stop fucking with me–”

Joshua didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence as he lost complete control. His grip around her neck loosened and both arms fell to his side. He felt strange, he couldn’t move on his own accord no matter how hard he tried. What was going on? “Why did you stop him?” Asked the woman, not taking the chance to move from under Joshua. “I wanted to see his dragon powers in full effect.”

“He was going to kill you, Lust.”

She shrugged. “I would’ve stopped him.”

“Sure you would’ve.”

“What is going on?” Joshua said. Okay, so he could talk! He just couldn’t move. That was good enough for him, hopefully that also meant that he could breathe fire. “Who are you two? Why are you here and what do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you–”

“Enough, Lust.” The woman frowned but she listened. “The reason why we’re here is not important and even if we told you, you wouldn’t be able to use the information.” The man stepped closer to the pair, stepping around them before squatting to Joshua’s eye level. “We just need your corporation for a mission of ours.”

“Your mission?”

“Yes,” the man said. “We’ve heard that you’re a part of a certain organization. What was the name again? Oh, that’s right! Hellfire Club.”

Joshua’s heart skipped a beat. How did they know about that? It was by invite only and he knew that neither of them knew January, or that his friend knew them. “How do you know about that?”

“Unfortunately, we cannot disclose that information with you.” Of course they can’t.

“Then what can I know?”

“You know our faces, I feel like that’s enough,” said the woman. “Ah! And you also know what we can do.”

“What do you mean by–” He fell silent as he stared down at the woman. Well, she was no longer a woman nor herself anymore, now he was looking down at himself. A smirking Joshua Daniels laid on the ground underneath him, in place of the woman. “H-how did you–”

“All it takes is a simple look,” said the woman/his clone. “I can become an exact copy of the person if I get a good look at them. But that’s not all I can do.”

Everything shifted. Joshua was sent backwards, head hitting the marble floor as the woman/his clone was the one in control, her hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing tight. He tried to gasp for air which resulted in her squeezing tighter. The woman laughed at it all, as if this was a game to her. “With just a touch, I can obtain the person’s memories. All knowledge of your friends, families, even all of your work bullshit– I’ll know it all. Though, it takes a while for me to obtain said information, so do me a favor and sit still.”

Her hands loosened around his neck, Joshua now able to breathe, but now she was holding his head. If he could move his body, Joshua would’ve attacked. As she obtained his memories, he would send his claws straight into her chest, killing her in an instant. However, his body was still being weighed down by something– probably whatever power the other man had.

Finally, the woman’s hands were no longer on his head, she even got up from on top of him. Still unable to move, Joshua could only stare up at the pair, trying to do everything in his powers to move and attack. But he couldn’t, no matter how much he tried. Fuck! “See?” The woman said. “That wasn’t too bad, now was it?”

“Fuck you! When I can finally move, I’ll kill the two of you, just you wait.”

“Unfortunately for you, Mr. Daniels, that won’t be happening. Lust, help him up.” The woman side eyed him but still did as told, pulling Joshua onto his feet. She didn’t let go of him either, her arm was slung around his shoulders as if they were best friends. “You will be killing someone tonight but it won’t be us.”

“What–”

“Do us a favor, Joshua Daniels, and stab yourself with your claws.”

His eyes went wide at the order, caught off guard by it. He wanted to refuse and spit in the other’s face but his arm, his fucking arm, was moving on its own! His claws grew longer and sharper, his arm slowly raising to be leveled with his heart. He could feel it pounding in his chest, fear took over his entire body. No matter how much he tried to stop himself, his arm still moved until his claws were pointing straight at his heart. “You son of a–”

Joshua didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence as his claws plunged into his art. He coughed out blood and groaned in pain. Neither of the two reacted to it, though, the woman did place a careful hand on top of his and pushed down, sending his claws father into the area. Joshua wanted to say more, to curse both the two strangers, to tell them that they’ll pay for this one day. But he didn’t have the energy to do so, his legs giving in and eyes falling shut.

Joshua Daniels fell to the ground once again, this time with no chance of ever moving again. Lust ( Anamika Sinha ) and Sloth ( Leon Burch ) stood above the dying CFO. Their first mission given to them by Linda McCall was completed, now it was Lust’s turn to put the whole mission into motion.

The infiltration of the Hellfire Club was a go.

OOC INFORMATION

The Omega Festival ended in a huge success! Welcome to the team Yaren!

It is now OOC knowledge that the Sins have missions that they are conducting. HOWEVER! So that it’s a mystery, we won’t tell you the exact missions UNLESS we need you for the missions <3

Joshua Daniels (FC: Chris Evans) is dead. Though, the only person who is aware of his death are the Sins and Linda McCall. Anamika Sinha will go to the Hellfire meetings as him until further notice.

The Hellfire Club is officially meeting, woo! If you haven’t yet, please look at the #plotting-calls channel and react to Kael’s message about joining the Hellfire Club.

I just want to say thank you to everyone, and especially to Admin Tin and Admin Izzy, for being so understanding when it came to me and getting this out so late. You’re all amazing and I love you guys so much.

Admin Tin is currently planning a time for us to watch a movie! Be on the lookout for that announcement 

[chromosome23hq]

JUN. 12, 1998. Ramer Cemetery.

Out of the night that covers me,      Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance      I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears      Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,      How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,      I am the captain of my soul.

Many were lost during the fight between the Brotherhood and X-Men and Omegas. Funerals and memorial services were held for many. Some were treated with just a night out, their alcohol either poured onto the ground or consumed, and a few nameless individuals didn't receive anything. Elliott Winslow, the former Essex Escapee, and Brotherhood member were loved and appreciated by many. If his ghost was still on Earth, he would see the large group gathered around his grave. The crowd was a mixture of Brotherhood members, Essex Escapees, and his coworkers, everyone dressed neatly in black, mourning in their ways. Even despite his explosive and venomous tongue, Elliott was a friend to many. He was always the type to fight for what he believed was right, and he truly did—too bad he was killed by some fucking cop. It wasn't a death he deserved but a death he got.

For the Essex Escapees, the group was hit with the realization that they'll never be safe. Just because they escaped death at the hands of Essex scientists, they'll never escape the death brought by others. It was a brutal reminder that hit all of them, but Monique Washington took it harder than others. Even after escaping Essex's clutches, Monique has lived within a fictional bubble where nothing could hurt them or their friends. It was perfectly constructed, a world that took them thirteen years to make. But within seconds, it was destroyed by witnessing the death of their friend.

The collapse of this world was the shove Monique needed to change themself and society. After waiting for the Brotherhood and Elliott's coworkers to leave, Monique brought up a solution to their problems before the other escapees. Unknown to the other escapees ( minus Seven ), their parents came to town. After learning what happened to their child, the couple offered to use their position as celebrities to publicly take down Essex House. For Monique, that meant exposing themself to the entire nation and reliving their trauma, and they weren't ready to do something like that, so they rejected the offer. Until now. With the death of Elliott, the fear of losing another friend, and the fear that Essex was seeing this as a win as one escapee dies, it was what they needed to share the plan with the other Essex Escapees and ask for their help.

Unlike Monique, the others all accepted within seconds. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to destroy Essex and their personal hell of many years. Their answer brought relief to Monique but also proved one thing to them: how much of a coward they were. The discussion was relatively short, Monique stepping back and avoiding all of their eyes. "I have to go back to Florida for a few weeks, but I'll be back with more details. I'll contact all of you when I get them."

They were the first ones to leave, not looking back at anyone as they disappeared from their eyes. One by one, each escapee left until it was just Elliott Winslow. Now cold and all alone for all of eternity.

JUN. 21, 1998

They all waited by their landlines and computers, waiting for their friend to get back to them with details. Nothing came from Monique; instead, they saw their friend on magazine stands everywhere. Their face was plastered on every cover, ranging from Tiger Beats, Sassy to Hollywood Gossip. There were candid pictures of Monique Lanchester with their parents, some at restaurants, others at Basketball games—the mystery child of the Lanchester couple that the public has been waiting for. Tiger Beats talked about Monique shooting hoops with their dad and his basketball players, Sassy had pictures of them with their mother, but Hollywood Gossip had the chance to speak with Monique.

It was a private interview with Monique and a Hollywood Gossip journalist. The questions were easy enough, "It's so great to finally see you! We've only seen baby pictures of you, and that's it", and "How did you feel after your father's team lost months ago?" simple things that Monique could easily laugh off and answer. Then came the big question everyone was asking: Why are you now appearing after twenty-three years of radio silence?

Monique shuffled nervously in their seat, fingers tapping on the table as they stalled answering. The journalist waited patiently but was on the edge of their seat. Finally, Monique responded to their question, "I think it's better to show you than to tell you." They then took off their hat, showing the journalist their ears that sat on top of their head. A mutant, of course! It was always a theory that the Lanchester child was a mutant, but no one delved more into it; it was just a theory, nothing more. But now, it was a reality and the perfect story that the journalist was looking for. "I'm a mutant, a wolf, to be specific. It happened so suddenly that my parents didn't know what to do except to hide me, afraid of what the public may do or say about me."

It was the partial truth; they kept to themself that their parents were also terrified of Monique and what they could do. That wasn't important, right? What was important was hooking the journalist in and using them to get the necessary attention for this plan. It was all set up by their father's agent: Monique needed to pique tabloids' interest nationwide to take down the Essex House. Tabloids were the bane of every celebrity's existence but were the backbone of this nation; without them, no one would know anything. And for this situation, the tabloids would help Monique and their friends expose the facility that had ruined their lives for so long.

"No one else in my family is a mutant, so there was no one who could help me with it; my parents didn't know what to do," they said. "Until news about the Essex House came on our television. It was perfect; we were told Essex would help young mutants like myself, so my parents sent me there immediately. And I truly thought that they would help me, but I was wrong… So, so wrong."

"Why? What was wrong with it?"

Their ears lowered, the journalist's watching those specifically. "The Essex House wasn't a safe haven for younger mutants. It was all a lie. They didn't care about us, much less help us with our abilities. No, to them, we were nothing but lab rats who they could torture and experiment on. Thank God I was able to get out there but… the scars… They're still there and will never fade, no matter what I do."

Monique gave the journalist enough information to get them by for the article. Two days later, the magazine article about Monique's interview could be found everywhere. It sparked the necessary attention from everyday people to other reporters and journalists who wanted to know if it was true. If the Essex House really tortured them and other young mutants, how could Monique get out there alive if Monique was telling the truth?

The attention made Monique nauseous, but this was what they wanted, no, needed. The plan that the agent created was falling into place. It wouldn't take long for the second part of the plan to be set into motion: garner enough attention for a talk show to allow Monique and the other Essex Escapees to talk about their experiences. Within a day, the agent was contacted by various talk show representatives who wanted to cover the story. While the number was amazing, it was narrowed down within hours. For all of this to work, it needed to happen right away. They couldn't partner with anyone who said it would take a month or two to cover the story, nor could they partner with someone who would handle the situation without grace.

It was a delicate topic that needed to be handled carefully and quickly, or else everything would end before anything could happen. When it felt like everything was no longer going their way, one representative told them they could meet their requirements. A talk show host who could handle a case like this, who was popular and willing to air this episode within two weeks. Monique didn't even care to see who it was as they ran to the nearest phone to call the other Essex Escapees. The plan was on, and it was all thanks to–

JUL. 2, 1998

Lights come onto a stage where Oprah Winfrey stood alone. There were seven chairs behind her and an audience that surrounded her. As soon as the cameras started rolling, the audience cheered, all excited for the woman and what was to be discussed. The woman tried to smile, but it was obvious that it was difficult to do so; even for a woman with years of experience, nothing could prepare her for this.

"The knowledge of mutants has been made public since the eighties, though, they've been around since, what many believe, the beginning of time. Despite their differences, they still bleed the same color and bruise the same as us. Today's episode is a special one with a sensitive topic. The United States is the land of the free, a country that is founded on freedom and creating a home for our children to live a safe and free life. However, some lost the chance to live such a life. For many mutant children, they're born into a family of humans who don't know how to raise a child with powers. Some of them push through it and continue to love their child despite their differences. Others disown their children, looking at them with disgust in their eyes. And the few who try and seek help for their children.

"The Essex House is an institution that takes in mutant children, promising to help these children learn and hone their abilities. Parents send their children here or teenagers or barely eighteen-year-olds who arrive to get help, only this institution doesn't try to help them. It's all a façade as the institution cares for one thing: conducting experiments on these poor children. 

"With us today are six former Essex House residents who are no longer children but adults, most nearing their thirties. They were tortured, abused, experimented on, and forced to fight for almost twelve years. Let me repeat that; they had to go through almost twelve years of that. Children turned into adults who escaped what they call a Hell Hole. These six have decided to come onto my show to share not only their trauma but to expose themselves to the entire world. Please welcome to my stage Milo Burke, Seven, Jessica Turner, Lachlan McLeod, Jack Torrence, and Monique Lanchester!"

Interview with Milo Burke

"— do you think you're comfortable showing us now, Milo?"

The interviewer's voice was kind and patient, but Milo had been disassociating so aggressively throughout the first part of the interview — it had been all "we" and "us" instead of "me" — that he seemed dully startled by his own name. He swallowed hard, throat painfully dry, and offered a stiff nod. "I- yeah. Um."

Milo stood and reached for the buttons on his shirt, his fingertips already buzzing with familiar panicked energy, panic only compounded by the way he could see the cameras all turn to him in his peripheral vision. It took some fumbling, but eventually, the one thing he'd struggled so much to hide the past year and a half was fully displayed: his scars, the most concrete proof he had to offer of the torture they'd all endured.

"These are, uh. From the fights I mentioned." Milo's fingertips grazed over thick, diagonal claw marks across his chest, but he moved on quickly because he knew Mo was watching — and the scars were from them. "And this was… the experiments." He wouldn't repeat himself, he couldn't, but his hands now framed the suspiciously regular, cross-hatched patchwork of lines across the rest of his torso. "They're… they're all over the rest of my body," Milo continued uncomfortably, a little distantly. "I was awake for most of this."

Interview with Seven

Seven walked into the frame, wearing shorts and little else. An uncomfortable beat as there was no slow reveal: Seven simply sat with every scar on show. They were a pale blue with faint streaks of pink through them. They still looked raw. He found that he spoke carefully under this pressure, practiced everything he wanted to say, and always bowed and obeyed when stressed. They were ignored at first. Seven simply talked about the routine, the experiments, and the fights. The collars. The casual sadism of the guards. Finally, he addresses the elephant in the room.

"A part of my mutation is my heart can heal itself," he carefully trailed a finger down his sternum, under his pec where the scar shows a chest opened like it were on a hinge, "They cut me open, without anesthesia. I feel the same level of pain as anyone else. They tested for that." Seven rolled his left shoulder, showing the mottled burn scar, "Essex employees forced us to fight each other." His hands shook as he opened them to show scars on his webbing. They remained the only sign of nerves throughout his interview.

Interview with Jessica Turner

Jess had come to the interview -- perhaps confessional -- stripped. Just enough to get past censors, all makeup removed, near paper white skin exposed. If she couldn't talk about the scars around her limbs, her wrists, on her head... she could, at the very least, show them. Then, withdrawing many, many, many pages of paper, Jack did what he had too often done for her, becoming her mouthpiece as he read the cards she flipped through:

"I would like to say what the worst part of Essex was, be it the fights in the ring or their' experiments.' But I couldn't. Not just because I physically can't when I'm not talking about Essex on the surface, but because I think that the worst part was being fitted with a ball gag and calling it a muzzle. I don't really know why they did it. I couldn't use my ability, deadliest with speech, with the nullification collar. Maybe they wanted to make camaraderie harder. Maybe they wanted to incentivize me to win those fights in the ring. Maybe it was just another experiment, long-term.

"Sometimes, they would take my only means of communication away if I lost there. It happened each time for the first few months, then it was a gamble after that, and I don't know which was worse. Twelve years, sometimes you get so desperate, you'd rather write in blood! I would've taken more lobotomies, more invasive brain surgeries, hacking off limbs, more temporarily sewn lips, more losses in the ring, more of it over twelve years of silence. Only able to speak when I was trying to maim or kill a friend. (The worst part, I might add, is that you aren't allowed to stay dead.)

"But at least my writing and their reading speed got quicker! Jack and I didn't even rehearse this!"

Interview with Lachlan McLeod

"I checked into Essex House willingly," Lachlan began as the spotlight fell on him. His first thought was why he imagined it was a good idea to show his face, "They fed me lies like they do to everyone else and told me they could help me control my abilities. That I could make sure my family felt safe with me." His family will know he's alive now. He wished that felt more like a silver lining, but he wondered how upset they'll be that he didn't come home. "I wasn't allowed contact with the outside world, and we were barely allowed contact with each other if it wasn't a cage match." There was also something he needed to prove. He wasn't sure if it was to Jess or himself, but he didn't want to be a coward in Knight's clothing anymore. He knew other members of their group looked to him as a leader, brave and steady, but this was his moment to prove it was true. Even if that meant Lachlan was putting a target on his own back in the process. He could only hope that putting his face to this story would appeal to people's sense of compassion.

"Their idea of teaching me control was literal torture." Tentatively, he rolled his sleeves to reveal the lightning bolt scars across his hands and arms. "They electrocuted me; there are more scars like this on my legs and feet. I was told they wanted to see how my skin would react because I can control water. They cut me open like a science project—my hands, chest, and even eyes. It's a miracle I can even still see or feel a thing. I was forced to fight like the others and have the scars to prove it. They forced me to develop parts of my abilities in ways I would give anything to forget. They were monsters who tried to make it seem like we were the problem. For twelve years, that was my everyday. And, not a single day in those twelve years was for my benefit. Not a single one." The nerves were gone, replaced with the outpouring of relief of telling his story for the first time in his life. He had let it fester all this time, building up to the moment when the world finally knew what had happened and that he had somehow survived it.

Interview with Jack Torrence

"—And the scar? That's from Essex, isn't it?"

Long fingers reached to trace along the raised tissue at the edge of his lip, his half-smile. "Yes." He can recall its creation like yesterday, in the same moment, it had happened a million years prior. Vivid but fragmented, memories haunted his days just as well as his nights. "My mouth wouldn't open wide enough for them, so they tore it apart." He remembered the cold bite of metal, of restraints. The sting of blood in his mouth. Them forcing wider, wider, wider until Jack, much like a serpent, could swallow his chosen prey whole.

"What was the purpose of that? Pure torture?"

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. Eyes continued to seek out the camera in the background, the millions of eyes upon him. Is it worth it? Is it worth baring the worst parts of his soul so that Essex's could be destroyed? It had to be. It had to be. "The things—" things, living and unliving. "What they wanted me to eat wouldn't fit. I think the torture was just a bonus."

"Could you elaborate on what things they wanted you to eat?"

He felt sick. Dizzy. Nauseous. He remembered the last time he felt nauseous. "They wanted..." he trailed off, out of breath. His heart hammered in his chest, alien to him. "They wanted..."

"It's alright. Take your time. Maybe a drink—?"

"No. No. I'm fine." The force of his rejection surprises even him. He needs to do this. He needs to do this. "They wanted me to..." His fingers locked against the arms of his seat, pure white. He couldn't look at the interviewer. He couldn't look at the camera. His long stare landed on the spot on the floor. "They wanted me to eat someone else."

"—You mean—?!"

"They made me eat another mutant."

Interview with Monique Lanchester

"Do you remember any of your fights with the other residents?"

Monique shook their head. "My situation is different from everyone else's," they said. "When I turn into a wolf, I can't remember anything. I black out, I guess. As the… the wolf takes full control of my body and does whatever it wants. When I come to… I'm back in my room. Even at the end of a fight, the wolf can't change back to normal. Rage fills my entire body, and the wolf runs on the rage because of Essex. They forced it—me, to be like this. Whenever I changed into a wolf, I was provoked because they pushed me to the limit. It was like they were trying to create a killing machine; I was their special project to commit murder."

"Have you ever murdered any of the other mutants?"

"No—I don't think so?" Everyone always kept their scars a secret from Monique; it wouldn't be a surprise if they kept someone's death from them. "I'm sure I've come close to killing someone, and the scientists would just watch… To test everyone's durability and to see if I can do it. If I can kill someone." They paused. "I hate it, really, what they turned the wolf into. I'm not a killer, but in a way I am, and it's because of Essex. I went to their institution to better understand the wolf within me, to have control over it. But instead, they molded me into this monster that attacks their friends and, one day, family."

Monique kept their head up high, but their ears dropped drastically. They wanted to leave right away. "I have wounds that healed or scared over the years; that's stuff I can hide from the public eye. But I can't hide or control this wolf, no matter how hard I try; Essex has fucked me up so much that I'm always terrified of the day that they'll attack someone that I love, and there won't be anyone to stop me."

JUL. 8, 1998

The interviews, newspaper articles, and gossip magazines didn't take long for the public to riot against the Essex House. Protests outside the facilities, parents who had sent their children there were calling and demanding their children to be freed, and reporters who waited for workers to leave and talk; it was a disaster for anyone working there. But it was the hope that all of the mutants needed. It took the Essex Escapees too long to do something, but it was better late than never. By the end of the week, NYPD was given permission to storm Essex House with all parents to get back their children and a timid Monique who hated that damn building.

All mutant children and young adults were freed, families hugging and apologizing to their children, while others without a family stood to the side awkwardly. Not all of them were lucky enough to have a loving family who felt bad for what they did wrong. Many of their families feared them and called them terrible names just because of their abilities; the outside world and the inside of Essex House were all the same.

That was why Monique was there, to offer them a home and a new family. For anyone who didn't have anywhere to go to, Monique had bought a home in Valtoria for the remaining mutants. It was only a temporary situation, just something to help them integrate into society until they were ready to live independently. Many of them accepted the offer, while others chose to leave the city entirely. The situation brought a smile to Monique's face, the Essex Escapee leading their new family out of the facility. For all of their sakes but mostly for Monique's.

It was a win for them, but the facility was still there, and there was nothing they could do to truly destroy it. Against all of their desires, the facility will remain standing as if it didn't fuck all of them over for years. That was a win for Nathaniel Essex, making them sick to their stomach.

JUL. 9, 1998

The Essex Escapees weren't the only enemies the Essex House had to worry about. While the Essex Escapees ruined the Essex House's public standing and released all of their residents, the facility still existed. It was still a reminder of the torture and abuse that many went through for over twelve years as if it was mocking all its former residents. Even after everything the Essex Escapees did to destroy it, it wasn't enough.

That was when the Brotherhood entered the scene. After a month of radio silence, the organization met up again within Club Nyx. Erik Lehnsherr said nothing about the battle a month ago or about the lost members; instead, he spoke of a group mission for the entire organization: to finally destroy the Essex House once and for all.

No one objected to the order, nor was anyone anxious about it. Not even the group tasked with destroying the facility in April objected. They had a score of their own that needed to be settled with the Essex House, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. The plan was for everyone to meet outside Essex House at midnight Wednesday night. Come prepared in their suits, masks, and anger for those who tortured their kind without proper punishment.

And they all listened. Every single member surrounded the facility from different angles before they broke through the gates. There were still guards and scientists around, guards who put up a fight, and scientists doing whatever they could to protect themselves and their research. But none of it was used as they were stormed by all sorts of mutants. A trail of non-mutant bodies was left both outsides and inside, empty cells and labs were destroyed, and all data collected over the years was burned before the scientists who were soon murdered.

For many, this plan was probably in honor of Elliott, the only Essex Escapee in their organization. But as a unified organization, it was for all mutants for once for those younger mutants who lost their childhood, teenhood, and young adulthood to a facility that lied about helping them. A facility that tortured, abused and experimented on them relentlessly. This was for them and a message to Essex Corporation: try this shit again, and the Brotherhood will be there to destroy them again. 

JUL. 10, 1998

There was something to be said about the organization of power, the heady mix of money and influence that drew people such as herself as metal did to magnets.

January St. James may rush, may come to illogical conclusions brought on by pride and arrogance, but at the end of the day, she played the long game. And by God, she knew how to play it well. Banks to lean on. Favors to take. Locations to put on her lease. The building of power is a slow thing, a careful thing, built upon years upon years of hard work and manipulation, and now, after the whole debacle with the Brotherhood and the Institute, she had enough social capital to play it.

Brandt and Goetsch was a good play, but while Maxine was as much of a viper as Jonas was, she was also a mutant and one that was as close to her personality—both of them could never have survived each other for long. So, with a farewell and nary a shed tear, she fixed everything she could in order.

Disappearing from the building, as if she hadn't even been there, several things happened, all at once. At his desk, Cas saw a handwritten letter apologizing for his current predicament. As Jack was her employee, she will be dealing with him personally and thus returned the money she'd been given for a job with a generous tip once over, and as she hardly reneges on a deal, this was a rare exception.

Another courier arrived with a bouquet of roses and a card that chilled Cas to his core, sent by January herself, with a smile as sharp as her knives.

She knows. Good luck.

In the back of her mind, miles away, Maxine heard January's voice whisper the name of the mole. Castello Laurenti. This was the term of their deal, and with it, she got a clean break from Brandt and Goetsch, off to seemingly do whatever powerful ladies of society were able to do day in and day out.

And all they did was spend.

An old building, built of vintage and glamour, scraping the skies as if it were the Tower of Babel itself. Her old lover would tell January that it would have all the makings of a good tragedy, but he's dead, and what use are the qualms of a dead man to those who still live? So she built, laid out the organization to her friends, business partners, and the more powerful mutants in the vicinity, and put out the invitations.

Letters, sent by a touch of magic and antiquity, found themselves on the desk of the powerful, all for the taking. To only humans, they see invitations to parties, to luxury, to connection. The Hellfire Club was for the most powerful, the most cunning, and the most to dine on the lap of luxury and be seen by only the elite.

But the mutants?

Seats of power are offered to select people through auditions and secret gatherings, the thoughts of connections that reach the country and the other side of the globe. The Lord's Cardinal, the inner circle of the Hellfire Club, an old myth among the old money, using their wealth and influence to turn the world as it spins on its axis, and now she set the foundation on which they'll stand. January may be as hungry for power as the next socialite, but she knew how to use it in the service of the mutant race. At least, that's what she told herself.

In the old building, in the penthouse suite that felt as endless as catacombs, portaled only by her reality-warping, she sat on a chair, on a throne, with a dark figure next to her, only coming to light as the smile on her face grew as she saw all the work laid out before her.

Her friend, her employee, and recently appointed second-in-command, Jess Turner, was invited to join and help build the Hellfire Club, to which she eagerly agreed. Placing focus on the founding of the Hellfire Club was both a welcomed task and a distraction. As January dealt with finances, connections, locations, and all the things she was accustomed to, Jess handled the more minute details. She began running enforcement and completing the smaller errands necessary for its rise, herself rising along with it.

Intimidation and imposition came naturally to Jess. She was built on blood and commandment. Judge of character, on the other hand, had to be polished. The least trustworthy seemed the most, and the most trustworthy seemed the least. Thus, recruiting those on the lower scale was not a talent but rather a skill that January aided in honing. By the beginning, she no longer felt obligated to run all the recruits by the goddess. While those within the high-risk category, such as known Brotherhood members, were one thing, those who posed little to no risk were feely offered recruitment, however sparse.

Cracking heads. Intimidating, hostile bosses. Poaching people off bad contracts. Not unlike her old self, both of their old selves, something discarded. A necessary venture, but one that January's long since grown tired of. Now, she stood tall, along with those closest to her, ready for whatever horrors the world had in store for her—no, for them, for there is no more her.

There is no more I for January, nor any for Jess.

There is only we and they.

There is only Hellfire.

. . . 

While the two sides focused and fought each other, there was a new mutant enemy who finally decided to make an appearance. The city's new mayor watched the woman across from him closely. He had been wary of letting her into his office, much less agree to this meeting. Until he learned that it was a meeting scheduled by the Pentagon, he absolutely could not reject it. But goodness, something about this woman did not sit well with him! Maybe it was how casual she acted while sipping the coffee offered her. As if she owned this place.

"So," he began, clearing his throat. "What brings you here, miss–"

"Linda McCall, but feel free to call me Linda," she answered, smiling.

"Yes, of course, Linda." He nodded his head, smile tight and fake. "What brings you here to my office?"

Linda took a long sip from her cup, and the mayor could only wait for her to stop. And when she did, she took forever to set down her cup. Five minutes in and she was already beginning to annoy him. "Well, it's rather simple." She placed her folded hands onto her lap, leaning back into her seat. "I've noticed that your city has dealt with a certain… population that has done nothing but disrupt the peace for the past year. From the fight last month to the riots and even the assassination of the former mayor—My! It's all so much. I'm sure many of your citizens are in an uproar!"

She would be right. He had to deal with the press every single day, protestors outside of his building, and even corporation’s bigwigs who all complained. Telling him that he needed to do something to fix all of this or if he had any solutions. The most he could think of was to get rid of all mutants that lived in their city and push them elsewhere so they could fight and do whatever they wanted. But he couldn't necessarily do that, not on his own at least. "And you'd be correct," he said, mimicking her body language. "But I'm working on fixing the problem."

"Really? Then what do you plan on doing?"

"There's no need for me–"

"Because if you don't have a plan, which I'm sure you don't… I can offer you some assistance."

He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of assistance?"

He wasn't sure, but it looked like her smile was becoming more and more sinister by the passing second. Linda stood up, heading over to his bookcase, messing with one of the old, worn-out covers on the first shelf. "What if I told you that I have a weapon that is much stronger and better than any lousy officer or gun you own?"

"What, do you have a nuclear missile that could eliminate all mutants?"

"Oh, even better!" She pushed the book back, attention completely on him. "I have mutants of my own but not just any. No, they were ordinary humans like us. Before I turned them–"

"You turned them?" That couldn't be possible! "There is no way for a human to become a mutant. It's impossible–"

"Oh, but it is possible, and I achieved it. Humans that are now mutants, and they're stronger than any naturally born mutant in the world. Not only that, they listen to us, to humans, to me specifically. And I'm willing to offer them to you for your little situation."

"You want me to fight mutants with… mutants?"

"Exactly that!"

"Now, Linda," he said, sighing deeply. "I think you need to understand something… that's what's been happening since we brought in those damn Omegas. And it hasn't made anything better for my citizens or me." Or for the former mayor.

"And that's why you need my mutants because they listen to me and now to you. Not only that, they’re loyal. They'll do whatever you tell them to do whenever you need it done." She walked back to where she was sitting; she picked up her bag and pulled out a manila folder, holding it out for the mayor. "Take the time to read over their files; these are seven mutants you can trust, I promise you."

He took it, though he was still watching her warily. "You have a lot of trust in these people."

Linda chuckled, closing her bag and throwing the strap over her shoulder. "Why wouldn't I? They are my children, after all. A mother must always love and trust her children."

OOC INFORMATION:

Welcome to Arc Two of C23! Again, we'd like to thank everyone for being here. You're all fantastic writers and we love you guys so much!

Also, a HUGE shoutout and thank you to the members who helped us with this plot drop: Kael, Gray, Alex, Cola, May, and Casey. WOO, WOO, YOU GUYS ROCK!!!

If you're wondering, yes, you can start roleplaying! IC, the date is July 10th, 1998 but feel free to do backdated threads that take place AFTER the previous event.

The Essex House facility has been officially destroyed by ALL Brotherhood members. Though, it's because of the Essex Escapees that the facility has lost all trust and public standing. HOWEVER, Essex Corporation is still alive and thriving. 

We now have more affiliations for mutants: The Hellfire Club, The Seven Deadly Sins, and Former Essex House Residents. More about these affiliations will be posted later.

It's here, what everyone has been waiting for, our first-ever skeletons: The Seven Deadly Sins! Please click here to see the six open skeletons. To make it fair for everyone, you can reserve a skeleton on July 10th @ midnight C23 time (PHT). To reserve a skeleton, please open up a ticket on discord and send in your top two choices. This will be based on first come, first served basis. 

Requirements to get a skeleton: Must be a member for 4+ months; active on ALL of your current muses for 2+ months; and you cannot drop this muse. The Seven Deadly Sins will be essential for the arc two plot, so please only take up one if you can handle it.

That’s all! Happy roleplaying everyone <3

[chromosome23hq]

JUNE 1ST, 1998. NEW YORK CITY.

It's a day that will live in infamy. The day began like any other. People got up and went to work, some went to school, others went about their daily routines. But then something happened.

OOC INFORMATION: Stay tuned for arc two.

[chromosome23hq]

APRIL 27, 1998. THE ESSEX HOUSE, NEW YORK.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: Under Sela Musa’s (@musas-muse) leadership, Isobel Cooper (@isobelcooper), Samson Clemens (@samson-clemens), Levi Crowe (@ascrowesfly), Riley Hunter (@rileyprobably), and Tenzin Tashi (@persuasivewhispers) must destroy the Essex House—once and for all. (Click here for the GDoc version!)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Fire, violence, blood, death

She holds up a fist to the team behind her, indicating for them to hold their current position. According to the intel the Brotherhood had managed to get, they’re closing in on their first obstacle: perimeter guards patrolling the outer rim of the property. She motions for Levi to take the other side of the stretch of fence they’d chosen for their infiltration, and follow her. Silently, she stalks up closer to the current patrol and takes cover behind the wide trunk of a tree. For a few moments, she only watches the slow pacing, uniformed faces. In the dim light, she flashes three fingers at Levi—three guards on her side.

Pressing his back into a similarly broad tree, Levi watches Sela closely, waiting for her count before nodding curtly to confirm. He turns his attention to the other stretch of fence, keeping his breaths carefully metered and watching for his own patrol. Two. Glancing at Sela, he tugs off one glove and stuffs it in his pocket, exposing his skin both to make the two pale fingers he holds up easier to see—and to ‘arm’ himself.

One guard is already close enough that he doesn’t waste any time, darting out from behind the tree and running in a crouch towards the uniformed woman. She doesn’t see him coming, and Levi doesn’t give her any chances, reaching to press his fingers to the back of the hand, holding her gun and sending her crumpling into the grass. A tranquilizer round from another guard glances off the fabric of his hood, and Levi curses into his mask as he ducks.

Sela nods as Levi confirms the number of guards she’d expected, and turns away to focus on her three as he darts out of cover. Unlike Levi, Sela doesn’t dart into action right away, choosing instead to watch her three as they walk. She removes her gloves and waits for a more opportune moment to strike.

It’s not long before that moment comes: two guards come close enough to where she stood poised to strike, with their backs facing her. The third is nearer the end of the fence, out of earshot. Seizing the moment, she takes swift steps up to them and manages to wrap bare hands around their mouths, their throats turning to stone before a sound can be made. In a blink, she’s surrounded by two statues, with one left to go.

Levi’s second guard immediately charges, which he’ll consider a mixed blessing: the man is big, but he’s stupid and reckless—too stupid and reckless to raise the alarm before rushing in. Another tranquilizer round deflects harmlessly from Levi’s leather jacket and the thick layers underneath, the mutant crouching, braced, hand out to the side, and a wild look in his eyes. The guard takes a broad swing with the butt of his pistol that Levi neatly weaves, bare hand striking lackadaisically up at the man’s chin to drop him to the grass.

Tugging the tranquilizer pistol from the guard’s limp hand, Levi examines what looks like a custom grip and pulls the trigger, scowling when a light flashes red, and the round doesn’t discharge. He tosses it onto the man’s chest and turns to half-jog back towards Sela, unsurprised to see she’s well in control of the situation.

Sela darts back into the shadows cast by the treeline, her sleek bodysuit helping her to blend into the darkness. She makes it about halfway to her target before he turns around and starts pacing back towards her—and his now stone colleagues. She decides to wait, allowing him to come to her rather than risk startling him into calling for help. He nears the tree she’s taken cover behind—and stops.

Her heart pounds in her chest, and a sinking feeling in her stomach warns her to prepare for plan B. As she slowly leans down to grab a largely fallen bit of branch, she hears a soft ‘what the hell…?’ that confirms her suspicions: he’s seen her handiwork on his colleagues. As he’s still too far ahead of her for her to quickly reach, she grips the branch tightly in her hands and turns out of the shadows and into the light—right in front of the guard, who has enough good sense to be startled.

First, she lifts the branch and brings it down hard onto the wrist holding the gun. There’s a clear snap, and the gun falls to the ground as the man lets out an anguished gasp. She lunges for him before he can be louder, but he sidesteps her. Sela tries the branch again, but he manages to grab hold of it with his good hand. He attempts to use the branch as a catalyst to swing her into the electric fence, but she lets go just in time to avoid a full collision; only a finger grazes the fence, sending a bolt of electricity up her arm. Sela bites down hard on her lip to keep from yelling in pain, turning a murderous glare toward the man instead. Feeling emboldened by his minor success, the man lunges at her—seemingly to send her crashing fully into the fence—but is met with an open palm slap to his cheek, which instantly turns to stone. The action sends another wave of pain through her hand, but she also pushes that down and grabs the key card off the man’s belt.

Sela meets up with Levi near her first two statues, still giving her hand a light shake. She gives him a quick once over to make sure he’s alright, then nods with approval.

“Well, alright, little bird. Make the call.”

Levi tugs his mask down partially so he can shoot Sela a look for the nickname, partially so he can raise his cupped hands to his lips. The call is quick, simple, to the point: the common loon, soft but unmistakable in the cool evening air. He counts to five, then calls again. “Their weapons aren’t any good to us. Custom shit,” Levi murmurs to his leader, pulling the mask up again as he keeps his gaze fixed on the compound beyond, looking for signs of alarm. “Fortunately, we weren’t counting on them anyway.” The six of them are arsenal enough on their own.

Isobel felt like she was going to throw up, and if she had a paper bag, she’d be hyperventilating in it. She wasn’t sure why she was chosen for this mission; she was a mess of a person. She watched Sela and Levi take down the guards, and she waited patiently for her to be of use. Her guilt knotted in her stomach seeing those guards turn to stone. She wondered if there was a way to reverse that. She wondered if those people had families, spouses at home, and kids waiting for them. Her thoughts were cut short when the two came back to give more direction. If she wasn’t careful, she’d give their position away, her entire body engulfed in flames like a beacon. Isobel twisted her fingers together. “How are we getting through that fence?” she practically squeaked.

Sela sent a pointed glance toward the newest member of her team. “That would be where you come in.” She motioned with her head for Isobel to walk with her up to the fence. “You’ll need to melt it down enough for us to slip through.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement. This is why Isobel was chosen for the mission. Sela offers no options to her.

Isobel gulped and nodded. Maybe if she pretended like she had the confidence, it would magically appear. Her hands balled up into fists as she walked beside Sela listening to her words. What would Elliott do? He was a firestarter; he was always so cool and collected. She wished she could be just like him. Isobel took a few breaths before flipping her sweaty palms over, and fire instantly appeared. The flames began to travel up her arms, and she let out a frustrated groan. Her emotions were out of control and now so was her fire. The flames traveled down her feet, covering her whole body until she was just a walking flame. At least she could use this to her advantage. Walking through the fence, she left a perfect human-formed hole in the links. Isobel walked back to make it slightly bigger. Okay, okay, okay, go away now, she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and shaking her arms.

Sela cocks an eyebrow at Isobel’s display of flames. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but she hadn’t been all that specific; besides—it worked. As the crackle of the interrupted electricity sparked and died, she kept her ears trained to the dull hum beyond the fence, and her eyes shifted along each side of the structure—her muscles grew tense with stored energy, waiting to spring into action at the first sign of an alarm.

When no such sign comes, Sela offers Isobel a muted smile. “A little unconventional,” She starts quietly as she advances up to the blobby, person-shaped hole. “but not bad.” There’s enough chill in the air that the metal cauterizes within seconds, and Sela doesn’t wait a moment longer to carefully (she’s in no great hurry to see if the electricity is still lingering) walk through the hole—her head barely skirting under the top. Only once she’s safely on the other side she turns back to her team, an expectant tone edging her voice. “C’mon then, let’s get this done. We don’t have all night.”

Samson lingers at the back of the group, lurking like the true predator he was born to be: silent, hungry, watching.

Sela and Levi kill with no mess; Isobel does her job of clearing a large section of the fence.

It’s time.

His nails more closely resemble claws, his pupils blown wide. Stalking forwards, he’s the last one through. Even for his bulk, he moves silently. A human shield and weapon all in one. His shoulders and head brush the fence, but he doesn’t feel it. He’s too far gone already.

A guard comes across them not much further in coming across the melted fence behind them. Samson is on him before he can even register what he’s seeing.

There’s no logic to it. He doesn’t take the gun out first. He goes for the throat because it looks appetizing; he can immediately pin him down and then keep hunting. Teeth sink in through the skin, through muscle, through cartilage. He pulls back and rips at him like a wolf stripping a lamb’s flesh. The guard wants to scream but can’t; only a bloody gurgle escapes.

Samson puts him out of his misery with a sharp swipe of his claws. He brings his foot down, hard. Crushing the dead man’s hand and his gun.

Isobel is fully on fire, and Levi is, quite frankly, impressed—but this isn’t the time or place for a light show. He knows she needs to calm down. “Take it easy, cocuyo; we don’t need a beacon,” Levi says more gently than his words might let on. He’s already got a soft spot for the trio of initiates that helped break him out of Riker’s, and contrary to what most people might think, he has a lot of patience for new recruits in general; people don’t always come to the Brotherhood out the gate swinging. Isobel’s hands shake, but she gets the job done.

Samson brushes past the lot of them, the tension in the line of his body obvious even in the dim light. Levi doesn’t watch the carnage that follows, only pauses to look back to Riley, a borderline feral flicker lighting up his own eyes as he reaches out with his ungloved hand. It’s a look Riley should be very much familiar with, a look Levi had given him back during the October riots: let’s cause some chaos, love.

Riley could not be more satisfied; after years of being behind the scenes, he is allowed to be a part of a mission, a really important one that may make a long-lasting impact. His job was the same as always, but he didn’t complain that he was good at it after all; he needed to make sure everyone got out of there alive, with minimum injuries. That is exactly was he was so observant (even if his eyes did linger longer on Levi than on the other members, he did not let that get in the way of his role, he also needed to prove himself); he watched Sela and Levi move in the shadows, prepared to strike at the right time—and they did beautifully so, except for Sela’s touch on the electric fence, something that he would soon take care of whenever they were free from danger. Isobel melts the fence, and Riley can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves his lips, knowing that at least that part was over and now they were ready to cause some chaos.

He takes Levi’s hand, the same kind of spark present in his eyes, his heart beating with excitement and love as he brings that hand up to kiss his knuckles softly, a silent I love you. After that, Riley brings his backpack to the front, quickly unzipping it and taking some latex gloves, which he quickly puts on before approaching Sela. “That was quite the sting, let me see your hand,” and just like that, that thin barrier is enough to keep Sela’s powers from affecting him, but not thin enough that his own powers can’t pass through and heal her. The pain is gone within just a few seconds, and everything affected by the shock is restored to its original state. “All good?” he asks before moving back to stand with Levi; they should keep moving unless more guards want to experience Samson’s wrath—unfortunately for them, Riley’s powers would not be useful after Samson was done with them.

She’s been watching with curiosity the whole time. Observing the powers her teammates possess being put to good use. She could’ve used her own ability to have all the guards turn on each other, but where would the fun be in that? Tenzin has always loved chaos, and she loves watching the carnage the team is causing even more. There isn’t much blood until Samson gets involved, and then things really heat up. Literally. Once Sela slips through the new girl’s person-shaped hole, Tenzin knows it’s her time to shine. She can see more guards coming toward them, and she darts to the front, following behind Sela. Her hands are clutching her favorite knives, not a single worry for her own safety entering her mind as she moves brazenly towards the men built like those pro wrestlers on television. Both arms stretch out to her sides, her fingertips gripping the sharp tips of the blades. Then quicker than anyone can blink, they’re flying through the air, not stopping until they hit the flesh of two guard’s throats. Her ability may have been a vocal one, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t train and take great pleasure in killing people the normal way. “Cover your ears,” she shouts over her shoulder to the others. Looking towards the other 3 guards, she smirks, then says, loudly and clearly, “a little birdie told me that you fight to the death.”

Isobel has to look away from the carnage. Suddenly she doesn’t want to be there anymore; she wants to go home and not to Xaviers. She was mad she was ever put in this position. She doesn’t want people to die. She wants to get rid of her power, crawl under some covers, and not leave. She’s not cut out for this, and she probably would never have been asked if it hadn’t been for her powers. All they did was cause her trouble. Slow breathing in and out like she had been taught helped make the flames disappear. Levi was right; they didn’t want a beacon. Isobel tried to keep up with the rest of the group, adrenaline running high. She wondered if she could disappear, leave, and if anyone would even care she disappeared or if they’d come after her, and it would be ten times worse. Covering her ears, Isobel flinched at the men now fighting each other to the death.

They’re three layers deep into Essex’s defenses. If Samson had his wits about him, he’d think it was too easy. But he doesn’t. There’s just enough of him left to cover his ears when Tenzin says so. That stops him from falling prey to her ability, but it also only serves to streak some of that guard’s face across the side of his face like morbid war paint. From now on: there’s no reasoning with Samson. He only won’t attack those on his side out of loyalty if they don’t pose a danger to him.

Three guards begin fighting to the death as Tenzin asks. It’s brutal. All fists and boots. One even draws out their gun. That commotion only sets off more guards. Or, as far as Samson is concerned, more prey. No longer lingering at the back, Samson charges forward. A deep guttural growl as he leaps onto the next guard coming at them, the guard shouting for the others, for those fighting, it doesn’t matter, it’s just noise to Samson. Noise he needs to stop.

This time he does go for the gun first. Twisting the guy’s arm till it snaps. More claws. More teeth. Overkill could nearly be an understatement with the amount of blood between his teeth.

Another round is fired: grazing Sam’s shoulder. It doesn’t hurt. Just a scratch that has Samson snapping to attention and moving on to the next guy without hesitation.

It all devolves so quickly, and Levi isn’t necessarily surprised—but he does wonder if he should be concerned. They’d known stealth would only get them so far, considering Essex security, and after that, it was up to brute force. Thankfully, they’ve got both the brute and the force.

Levi does his best to keep himself between Riley and the guards as much as possible, not because he doesn’t think he can handle himself but because he can’t help but be protective. He knows Riley’s just as excited to be on the front lines with the rest of them, so he won’t ruin all of his fun—but he will keep close. Tenzin’s warning is quickly heeded, and Levi claps his hands over his ears and pauses just long enough to watch the guards tear into each other. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, casting one more quick glance to Riley with an impressed look before he darts in.

While the guards are distracted by bloodying each other, it’s easy for Levi to get a swift couple more kills.

The chaos begins, and Sela can’t help but smile. Her team each takes off to do what they do best—there’s a certain pride that wells deep in the cavity of her chest as she watches each of them carve their way through the throng of guards.

A tranquilizer bullet whizzed by her head, missing her by a few inches. She regains her focus and charges at the would-be assailant, drawing a large dagger from its sheath on her thigh. Another guard tries to ambush her off of her path, but she holds an ungloved hand up and pushes him away via his face. His transformation to stone completes as he falls to the ground, causing the stone to shatter. She makes it to the guard that shot at her, and as she comes to a stop before her, she doesn’t hesitate to lift her knife and slit the woman’s throat, sending a spray of blood over her dark suit.

Riley can’t help the spark that appears in his eyes at the destruction and chaos. This is more than just a wish for the whole world to burn; this is vengeance; this feels like the first step towards freedom as well as satisfaction from being part of a mission that, above all, is trying to help out fellow mutants. He only has the time to cover his ears before his eyes set on the now three fighting guards, a chuckle making its way out of his throat; before he looks around observing his surroundings, he notices a cut in Samson, but figures out it is not deep enough and not worth solving know (especially when Samson is doing such a great job at wiping out those guards), he watches Sela and the remains of what he assumes was once a human shattered on the floor, and he only has the time to give Levi one last look, before he is moving towards Isobel.

Maybe he is not the first choice when choosing more effective members in a fight; Riley is not going to back down. He can be useful in this mission and at least make sure that everyone is not about to lose their minds (besides, he owes it to all of the new recruits, they got Levi out of prison after all). However, before he can reach his destination, he feels someone trip him, and before he can do anything about it, he is on the floor, rolling out of the way of some guard’s gun and pulling him by the ankles. He might not know much about fighting, but he can play dirty too. That’s when he rises to his feet and takes a knife out from near his ankle.

Isobel hears the thud and turns to see Riley on the ground. While she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, the mission would be compromised if she didn’t take a few liberties here and there, or at least that was what she kept telling herself, so she didn’t freak out too much. “Wait!” Isobel shouted at the guard to throw him off, distracting him for only a second before she put out her hands’ flames like a flame thrower shooting out towards him. She had a flash of the burns her parents sustained from her flames before she shook her head, trying to focus on helping Riley. They were close to catching up with the others, and all she wanted was an easy mission. Once they got close, there were already so many bodies of guards on the floor—she knew they represented terrible people and ideologies, but she never wanted to kill anyone. It just wasn’t in her.

Levi doesn’t notice immediately as Riley goes down, but the flash of Isobel’s fire is impossible to ignore. He twists away from a guard’s widely swung baton and darts in their direction, barking out a “hey!” as another guard makes a move towards Riley, pistol at the ready. Levi’s clasped hands come down hard on the man’s wrists, forcing him to drop the gun.

Levi also doesn’t notice the change when his ability disappears. He just assumes he didn’t make any skin contact, so with an uttered curse, he reaches for the guard’s chin with his bare hand and grabs.

Nothing happens.

They stare at each other for a moment, stunned, but the Essex guard recovers first: he draws a tactical dagger, and Levi doesn’t have enough of a chance to pull away before the blade buries in his shoulder. He bites out a pained cry and puts just enough space between them to wind up and kick the man square in the stomach, driving him back and to the ground.

“What the fuck!” He calls out unhelpfully to anyone who’ll listen.

Nothing hurts like this. The shot that grazed his arm only served to heighten his rage. He continues his rampage, enjoys the coppery taste of blood between his teeth, and enjoys the shouts and cries. Mowing down guards like they’re nothing.

Samson hits the ground without warning. A wave passing through: heart racing, his teeth flattened, smooth and harmless, claws gone, and worst of all, the violent wave of pain as every nerve ending lights up. With the sharp shock of it all; his eyes roll back, and he falls. Thought returns—it was all too easy, the final obstacle hits him harder than the others. Faintly, he remembers a similar feeling when his mutation was ‘turned off by that other mutant. It’s the only reason he can even begin to comprehend what’s happening.

Until the first kick lands, Samson howls out in pain. Struggles to get up, his forearm pressed into the ground. Another hit lands. The butt of a weapon between his shoulder blades.

She’s watching the guards tear into each other, following her simple yet effective command. There’s blood splattering everywhere, and the sound of bones breaking as boots and fists connect with faces and ribs. Guns are firing, and honestly, it’s like music to her ears. Nothing is as beautiful as the cries of people in pain. Especially when she’s the reason for it. Her eyes follow Samson, who is literally like a rabid dog. It really is quite attractive, and she makes a mental note to visit the Veil in a couple of days.

Suddenly, everything changes. She feels different. The guards stop fighting each other. Levi is yelling, and Samson is on the floor, howling in pain. Something has gone wrong. “I didn’t say you could stop fighting!” Tenzin yells. Bad idea. Now there are eyes on her, guards running toward her. “Fight to the death!” she ordered, but nothing happened. They didn’t take their focus off her. A gun is being fired in her direction, then there’s a searing pain in her thigh, and she drops to the ground. She’s been stabbed before, but it didn’t feel half as intense as this. She can’t even comprehend what’s happening as she tries to crawl back towards the fence they came through, blood seeping through the material of her pants. “I can’t make them stop,” she says to anyone who happens to hear her.

Sela smiles as more stone chunks crumble at her feet. It’s a feeling she’ll never get over; the excitement—the thrill—of watching the light leave her victim’s eyes. That split second of realization as their bodies turns to stone. She’s about to move towards the guard she’s clocked as her next victim when a high-pitched whirring cuts through the chaos of battle and catches her attention. It’s a sound that shouldn’t be there, so she latches onto it, swiveling her head until she finds its source, moving closer to Tenzin for cover.

Close to the main structure, she thinks she finds what she’s looking for: a large piece of unmanned machinery facing their impromptu battlefield. She can’t see many details from where she currently stands—save for the Essex branding on the side. Still, she knows it’s charging up for something if the steady increase in the whirring’s volume meant anything. The machine reaches its crescendo before Sela has the time to warn her team before she has time to properly brace herself. She sees the machine recoil as it, she presumes, shoots—but nothing happens. Nothing tangible, anyway. There’s no spray of bullets, no laser beam of some kind. For a moment, Sela thinks the machine is a dud that’s failed its master—a sign that their mission is some kind of divine quest that can’t be stopped, no matter what Essex throws at them.

And then she hears Samson’s roars of pain.

She hears Levi’s confusion and watches as Tenzin’s orders go disobeyed.

Tenzin’s shot and Sela jumps to action, rushing the closest guard. With a swift and hard kick to their wrist, she knocks their gun down to the ground, then brings her ungloved hand up and whips it across their face with a loud—smack! The guard is left stunned, but still human. Sela’s eyes widen at them, then—smack!—as she slaps their other cheek. The guard gives her an angry but smug look and raises their fists. She nearly doesn’t duck in time, still fixated on the brief moment of warmth she’d felt on her hand.

Knife still in hand, she slashes at the guard’s legs, then jabs the dagger through their throat as they fall to the ground. She yanks the knife out as the whirring suddenly starts low and slow again. Recharging. Taking a chance, she brings her hand down hard onto the guard’s face again—within milliseconds, the blood stops pooling on the grass, and the guard finally turns to stone.

Sela stands, her face tight with a mix of anger and focus, and she yells to her team as loud as she can, “Now!” She jumps at another guard.

Riley is breathless, he should have been expecting this kind of welcome, yet this is the first mission he has ever been on, and stories of other members pale in comparison to the real thing. It doesn’t take away his excitement, but it also makes him more aware that something wrong might have happened, but fortunately, both Isobel and Levi come to the rescue just in time, and finally, he is able to get moving. “C’mon, we can’t stop,” he encourages Isobel; he can see the fear in her eyes as she takes in her surroundings. For a moment, he wishes he could comfort her, but unfortunately, there is no time for that, especially not when Riley hears the sound of Levi shouting in the middle of all the chaos; his head immediately turns to see him bleeding from his shoulder, not understanding how it happened until his eyes scan the whole perimeter. 

Samson is on the ground, squirming, hurt, his mutation nowhere to be seen, which makes Riley frown, but it’s only when he hears Tenzin saying that she is unable to make them stop that he understands that something is actually incredibly wrong. He can only assume it is due to the machine they brought in. There is no time, however, for Riley to think too much about what is happening when he hears Sela’s “Now!” he spares one look at Isobel before he is on the move; he probably only has a few minutes until his mutation disappears again, he needs to help as many as he can. He is moving towards Levi but fails to notice the guard coming up at him, hitting him right in the ribs; the pain shoots through Riley’s body in a second, but he holds onto that guard, making an effort to twist the knife deep into his stomach, before letting go. He is in pain, but it doesn’t seem like anything is broken yet, so with whatever is left of his mutation, he uses it to heal Levi’s shoulder. “You need to help me with Samson; I don’t know if I’ll be able to help him.” Riley was even unsure that he would be able to help anyone else, including himself.

’Now!’ Levi hears Sela shout, but unlike the others, hasn’t been nearly so savvy as to figure out the source of their missing powers. He doesn’t even really understand the meaning of the ‘now’ until Riley appears beside him, the familiar warmth and relief of his healing spreading through Levi’s shoulder. He grabs Riley’s shirt like a lifeline, only briefly ignoring the chaos around them.

“Yeah,” he replies quickly and shakily, distracted, trying to see if Riley is okay at a glance. “Yeah, we—”

Before Levi can finish the thought, guards are descending on them again; at least now, they drop like they’re supposed to when Levi touches them. What the fuck? Blood drips from his sleeve even as the wound in his shoulder has healed, and Levi does his best to keep between Riley and harm’s way as he searches for Samson in the chaos.

He can’t find any rage with a mouthful of dirt, barely clinging onto consciousness. Only fear. More blows land, and for the first time, he feels each one. Sharp and bruising, maybe even breaking. Samson begins to push himself up. He is ready to retreat, ready for the inevitable collapse when he’s out of range of whatever is disabling his mutation.

Blindly, he throws out an arm. Knocks one guard by the knees and over. Finally standing, ready to run, the wave passes. His eyes roll back. The world goes dark. Heart pumping slow. Teeth are no longer smooth and harmless. Nails that are closer to claws. But still, he drops.

Even as the guards are both confused and shocked, a beast they had seen rip into their throats is knocked out cold, and they know better than to ignore good fortune. The beating continues. Covering round of fire aimed at the rest of the mutant attackers.

Samson, slowly coming too, is only conscious enough for the animal fear and panic to hit as hands grab him and begin to drag him in closer to the building.

Isobel wants to cover her ears and curl up in the fetal position right there on the ground amongst the chaos and the blood. She then realizes that she doesn’t want to go back to Xavier’s and doesn’t want to go back to the Brotherhood. She wants to go home. She wants to see her parents and Cy, and she doesn’t want to choose between the two sides. Isobel helps with the guards, but as she goes to throw flames, nothing comes out, and she’s surprised because when emotions are high, she’s usually a ball of flames, a walking human torch. “I can’t—” she started to say, but she doesn’t see a guard grab her, to her surprise. Isobel isn’t strong like the rest of them. She knows basic hand-to-hand combat, and a swift kick to the man’s groin does the trick of letting her go. She feels like they’re way in over their heads. Isobel runs, she wants to run the other way, but instead, she runs towards Samson. They have him, and even she knows the Essex group is against everything she stands for. She’s not sure what she can do, but she jumps on the back of one of the guards.

Samson and Isobel and the grouping of guards, leave a trail of statues in her wake. Once she’s close enough, she hurls the sharp chunk of a face at one of the others trying to steal Samson. It strikes its target, though not where she had wanted it to. The rock slices the man’s cheek open, causing him to let his bounty go and stagger back in pain.

The noise from the machine is louder and higher in pitch now—she knows she doesn’t have long before the next wave is released. Sela yells for Levi and Riley to help Isobel and get Samson back as they’re closer and turns to head back to Tenzin—only when she does, she’s face to face with a guard and a sharp, stinging pain bursts from her side. She looks down at the knife she’d stabbed her with, then angrily back up at the woman’s face. She lifts her hand and slaps her, leaving nothing behind but a red mark on her pale skin. The guard smirks, and Sela curses, annoyed at how little time she’d been given between waves. Bracing herself, she yanks the knife out with a pained grunt and, in one quick movement, jabs the knife into the neck of the guard, who falls with a yelp.

The chaos ensues once more, but there’s something different about the guards’ attacks. They know what to wait for—and now who to avoid before the next wave of… whatever it is that machine keeps pumping out that nullifies their powers. A small group of guards tried to keep just out of reach of Sela, but she was lighter on her feet. She jumps in the middle of a throuple, grabs a one-armed hand, and redirects it before the guard has time to aim and shoot. He shoots his tranq at his colleague, and they fall to the ground with a solid thud.

Meanwhile, she covers the guard’s bare hand with her own, and he turns into a statue made of obsidian—one of her new personal advancements. She brings her knee up hard, a move she knows she’ll regret once the bruise starts forming and the stone arm breaks free from the rest of the statue. The statue, now off balance, falls and shatters into sharp, shiny shards. The gun rendered useless, still stuck to the immobile arm, Sela turns the arm and thrusts the shiny, jagged end into the stomach of her last guard, who falls onto the ground clutching her makeshift weapon.

Sela takes this precious moment to look for her team to ensure they’re all alright after the blip in their abilities. What she finds isn’t very encouraging. Riley and Levi seem to be rallying, as they usually do when they’re in tough situations together. But Tenzin’s hurt, and so is Samson.

She freezes. He wasn’t where she’d last seen him, and she couldn’t hear him anymore. Almost frantically, she scans the battlefield until she finds him. And the guards try their damnedest to drag him to the main structure.

White-hot rage sets her jaw. She will not lose a member of her team to Essex. So, as Isobel jumps onto the back of one of the would-be—kidnapper’s backs, she scoops up a large, jagged chunk of the obsidian still at her feet—judging from the nose still attached to it, it’s a chunk of the guard’s fractured face—and takes off. She runs towards

She covers the gaping wound with a hand and pushes herself to get back to Tenzin. Freehand, still wielding the stolen knife, she helps deal with a couple of the guards attempting to swarm the lone member of her team. Once they’re dealt with, and after a quick evaluation of her own and Tenzin’s injuries, Sela hangs her head briefly, then turns up and lets out a frustrated and pained roar of her own towards the sky. Another wave of guards was rushing them, sent from inside the building. And with their power blips—Sela shook her head, angry and disappointed.

They couldn’t do it. Not without all of them dying—or worse. And it was her decision to make, consequences be damned.

She had to call it.

She brought her fingers to her mouth and blew three short high-pitched whistles, then one prolonged one. The call to fall back.

To retreat.

“Get ready,” she looked at Tenzin, the mixed anger clear on her face. “When our abilities come back, give us a distraction, and then get your ass back out the fence. Make sure it’s clear there too.” Her tone implied heavily that she would come with the rest of the team—or not at all.

The sounds of screams, gunshots, and bones being broken are so loud in her ears, but all she can focus on is the pain in her thigh. Her eyes are on Samson, though, trying to find a way to get him out of his situation. Then the new girl is on his back, and Sela is yelling for the others to help. Her eyes are watery, but she refuses to cry. She hasn’t done it since she was a child, and she’ll be damned if she’s giving in to the urge now. However, she thinks it would be out of frustration rather than the gunshot wound. She’s never been powerless before. She hates how weak it makes her feel. So vulnerable and small.

She’s watching Sela come towards her and tries to warn her about the guard, but she’s too late. “Fuck,” she yells out, dragging herself up onto her feet. The movement makes her feel woozy, but she doesn’t have time to think about it. Not when there’s so much going on. A guard is on her, and she grabs their wrist, snapping it in a quick motion and taking their gun. Shots are fired wildly, but she hits her targets. Missing her mark isn’t her style. Three guards are dead now, meaning they have less to deal with. But… she’s out of bullets. Could this get any worse?

“Sela… Your side. We need—” Tenzin doesn’t need to finish her sentence. Their leader has already made the right choice. She nods, pulling a knife out of her shoulder. It didn’t hurt. In fact, she’s only just noticed it’s rammed in there. Her adrenaline must’ve been kicking in. “I’ve got this,” she promises, but she slightly doubts herself. What if her power won’t work? What if the machine broke her?

The beep sounds and Tenzin inhales sharply. Turns her head to make sure the team is ready to bolt. “Ears!” she yells, then looks forward, back straightening as she screams, “A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME THAT EVERY GUARD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKING HELL HOLE SHOOTS THEMSELVES RIGHT… NOW!” She’s not giving the machine a chance to render her order useless halfway through this time. A silence falls, then all that can be heard is the sickening sound of ringing gunshots and bodies hitting the ground. Tenzin takes one last look before retreating through the fence, waiting on the other side until she’s sure Sela is out.

Levi barely even hears the order to help Samson because he’s already seeing what’s happening and he’s already seeing red. This is the only time he’ll let himself lose sight of Riley, a furious growl scraping up his throat, strengthening into a yell over the chaos as he starts clawing tooth and nail through the thick of guards between him and those around Samson. They continue to drop like dominoes, but not forever—Levi’s barely reached the group Isobel is already with when his hand connects with someone’s skin, and nothing happens.

It doesn’t stop him. Levi draws a butterfly knife from his boot and takes to doing things the old-fashioned way, slicing and stabbing at anything in a uniform and, unfortunately, getting almost as good as he gives in his rage. He shrugs off every cut and every punch, leaning into the adrenaline as some distant part of his brain hopes that every guard he bleeds on will drop as soon as the power dampening ends.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter.

Tenzin’s voice is the one ringing out over the cacophony now, furious and to the point; Levi throws his arms up around his head, cradling it between them, and half-crouches as a symphony of gunshots ring out. For a moment, he simply stands there, quietly stunned, then the sight of Samson’s unmoving, bloodied body and additional shouts and alarms coming from the compound spur him back into action.

“Come on!” Levi shouts desperately at Isobel and Riley, grasping for one of Samson’s arms to drag over his shoulders, ignoring the cuts and bruises screaming through his body.

There is not much left for Riley to do; only one goal is present on his mind: they all need to get together and prevent this from becoming worse than it already is, which, unfortunately, will be no easy task. It’s hard to see where they are going, they are ridiculously outnumbered, and it feels like no matter how many guards drop dead to the floor, there will always be more coming for them; however, he doesn’t allow himself to panic and simply runs towards Samson.

It seems like nothing is going according to plan. Three guards rush in, and while Riley is able to evade one of them, the other two grab him making it impossible for him to do anything but watch Levi and Isobel trying to get to Samson. The first punch to his face is nothing compared to the beating he is about to get, fear taking over his body as he realizes that he is once again not healing, not like he used to. He tries to squirm away, shout, do anything, but it’s useless, and against his own will, he falls to the floor, not even understanding which weapons they are using to beat him up. He can only feel how his ribs suddenly break due to its force. The air leaves his lungs at once, and when he already thinks that there is no fight left in him, a choir of shooting noises damages his ears, and suddenly all the guards drop to the floor.

He doesn’t get up immediately. He can’t, his body hurts, and Riley is not used to this kind of pain. Levi shouts, yet Riley can’t even seem to hear him. Only a faint ringing remains from all the noise he just heard, a streak of blood coming out from one of his ears as he curls into a ball, hands near his ribs as he takes faint little breaths.

It takes everything in him to be able to stand up, the pain blurring his vision slightly as he limps back towards the three of them, weakly dragging Samson’s other arm and putting it over his shoulders with a grunt. They need to get out of here and fast.

Isobel doesn’t have to be told twice to get the hell out of there. She helps with Samson putting his other arm around her tiny shoulders to help out as best she can. She can feel the bruise forming on her cheek, already burning from the elbow to the face she received, trying to free Samson. She ignores it and pushes as fast as her skinny legs will take her. Looking at the team, beaten and broken, Isobel realizes she’s standing in front of the driver’s side and would be in better shape than most of them to drive. She slides in, nervous hands gripping the steering wheel. They need to get out of here fast, and she doubts the others bother to put on their seatbelt, but it’s out of cautious habit that she checks her mirrors and puts on her seatbelt, hearing the click before she shifts into drive. She doesn’t drive fast. She doesn’t want to be suspicious; she drives the speed limit, carefully watching her mirrors to ensure they aren’t being followed. She’s sure everyone breathes a sigh of relief when they’re not. There’s too much chaos left in their wake. Isobel stays quiet because she doesn’t even know what to say.

AFTERMATH: Unbeknownst to the troupe, Eurynome and Nemesis (on behalf of the Xavier Institute) stood on a hill with a sightline of the Essex House, watching the tragic scene unfold as several Brotherhood members fail to breach the outer perimeter of the property.

[chromosome23hq]

MAY 2, 1998. SYRACRUSE, NEW YORK.

MISSION OBJECTIVE: through ezra shaw’s (@smitebound) guidance, martha seong  (@marthaseong) and finley walsh (@finlcyxwalsh) are sent to end the life of congressman christopher masten because he accepted funding from anti-mutant lobbyists, as well as took an anti-mutant stance. they must kill him before he reaches a luncheon where he will announce his idea for people identifying themselves as mutants or non-mutants when they enter establishments. (click here for the google doc version!)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, violence, car crash

the ride has been mostly quiet, the only sound finley walsh's able to process being the blood pumping in her ears. of all the people to get put with on this mission, martha is probably the least ideal, but at least she's not mark. she has yet to find a reason, or lack there of, to distrust her, and that counts for something. all she can do is hope that her tip landed, and christopher masten was well on his way out of the hotel. until then, all she could do was try and keep her head empty, and spin the little ring on her finger around to keep the anxiety at bay.

when she told daichi she preferred assassinations, it wasn’t a request to be put on a mission to carry one out. and with a neophyte, no less! this was exactly the kind of babysitting she declined to do. with a huff, and a foot pressing heavier on the gas pedal, she decides she was going to have some words with him, after all of this was done — after she kills poor masten and serves up his head on a platter. remembering her companion, martha seong turns her head to the side, eyes off the road and onto her new partner-in-crime. “this isn’t your first time, is it?” she asks, with a playful grin and her sing-song voice, referring to murder. oh, she hoped this one wouldn’t be trouble! she can’t handle someone screaming and crying and making too much of a mess.

it's martha's voice that breaks finley's trance. she almost prefers the silence, but what ground does he have to make requests? none, actually, she can answer that question for herself. she has to wonder if she can maintain her acting skills with stakes this high, but if there was ever a time to play the most convincing version of the evil side of her soul, today was the day. her first time at an assassination attempt? yes. and, hopefully the last. "technically, yes." she had watched ezra and sela torment at least one person in her few weeks in the brotherhood, but she had never bloodied her own hands. not that she would start today. "you?"

martha gives her a softer smile, pretending to feel sympathetic. well, fuck, she thinks. masten isn’t just some guy they’re accosting in an alley behind nyx. he’ll have people, security — an entourage of no less than ten. and they’re putting this mission on her and a girl who was never killed before? what were they expecting from martha? was this a test? a punishment? it’s not like she was gone for that long! three months — that’s barely a vacation. “no,” was her straight answer. she doesn’t care to elaborate. maybe they can have a sleepover and martha can list all the people she’s killed and felt die. maybe. “it’s terrifying, at first—” martha feels safe to assume finley wasn’t like ezra or mark, that she isn’t bloodhungry “—it’s worse when they beg. and they always do. even the worst of people cower in the face of death. it’s a bit funny, actually! you know, after you get over the whole killing a person thing. but, you can’t hesitate.” the car takes a sharp turn left, as the miles between them and masten diminish. “i mean, it’s fine, we don’t keep report cards,” she frowns, “i think. not betty, at least—mark is a bit obsessive. he likes to evaluate people. i wish he’d evaluate me,” she remarks, offhandedly, looking back at the road. “but, you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?” she asks, quirking a brow as she glances back at her.

she doesn’t know martha from adam. and, after mark, she’s learned not to trust the kindness any of them extend. she can make conversation, but she needs to hold her cards close to her chest. still, she won’t lie, and make herself out to be interested in playing out a live action version of the most dangerous game with non-mutants. she has no interest in killing, and she’s never done it. it was obvious enough to look at her and know that without hesitation. she didn’t need to try and convince anyone otherwise. “he’s picky, he’d probably have a few opinions,” finley mutters. she’s not his biggest fan, and he’s certainly not hers. thank god they’re not on this mission together. “of course,” finley responds without hesitation, “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.” if nothing else, lying was a skill she was going to pick up from all of this.

“so you’ve met.” the grin returns on her face, bubbling with genuine amusement at the thought. her answer was enough to satisfy martha — but then again, martha wasn’t one to really care. good, she thinks. when you had a rhyme and reason, it was easier not to walk away with guilt and regret. and the girl had some resolve. it’s apparent she was nervous, but her voice did not quake nor waver. martha takes that as a good sign! and an excuse not to tap into her mind and anticipate her actions. that would be too exhausting — she never knows what she gets subjected to. brotherhood members aren’t exactly known for having neutral, consumable thoughts. always, there was something crazy to behold. “hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.” she thinks. maybe. who knows! if it comes to it, martha will have to calm her down. another sharp turn and they find themselves in town. the hotel was already visible from where they are, peeking through the block of buildings they still had to drive through. “they will start with welcoming drinks in half an hour. do you want to stop by anywhere first?” she turns back to finley, inspecting her — making sure she looks the part of a political science intern interested in politics from a very young age. “or are you good to go?”

for all the money xavier has invested in the school, she figures some of it should have gone to a better communication system for this whole thing. she doesn't know what's landed, and she doesn't even know if someone knows where they are for a fact. but, with the offer to go off the beaten path that they're expected to follow, finley can't take the risk. "good advice," she says with a slow nod, acting like she's absorbing this for all that it's worth. and, as much as she wants to tell martha to stop somewhere so she can empty the contents of her stomach, cold blooded murders don't get their stomach in a twist before an assassination. "no, i'm good to go." she smooths out the blazer she's been put in as gently as she can behind the seatbelt across her chest. of course they use her to look prim and proper, at least she's of use in some regards for them.

martha waits for another beat, just in case finley changes her mind. she wouldn’t be patient with anyone else, not any of veterans, certainly, but — these are the kind of moments you don’t forget. it’ll carve itself in your mind forever. it’ll chase you — for days, weeks, months, or years — even in your sleep. martha would know, it did the same to her. it might be for the cause. masten might be an inglorious fucking bastard. but it was a weight on your conscience. a mark on your soul. if you had one left, that is. so, she waits. while she liked to fuck around, martha knows these people — the brotherhood — are here for a reason. and that reason wasn’t because they wanted to be. most of the time, it was because they had to. with seemingly no one else to protect them, it feels like the only choice. martha believes it was the only choice. “alright,” she finally says, “here we go! your first assassination. how fun! maybe we can get some ice cream after. as a reward.” the seconds passes in silence, as the hotel grows larger and larger before them. the mirth on her face is slowly replaced with practiced seriousness. a mask crafted for the benefit of the mission. she pulls the fake prescription glasses from the dashboard and places them on. turning to finley, she asks, “how do i look?” as the car enters the driveway, gradually pulling over the entrance.

finley didn’t really know what was coming when they crossed over the hill. maybe she should have said yes to stopping if only to give matsen more time to bail. but, too little too late now. truth be told, she wasn’t too thrilled on the idea of saving someone who thought so lowly of people, but what good would killing him do? all it did was lead to more chaos and more hatred. something dramatic would have to happen in order for the brotherhood to ever win just by picking people off one by one. of course, none of this could be said out loud, and one could only hope she wasn’t projecting these thoughts straight into martha’s brain. with a tense smile and nod, finley acknowledges her excitement of the accolade, the offer of ice cream making this whole thing feel so… benign. finley glances martha’s direction, newly adorned glasses perched on her nose. “very smart. science-y,” finley offered. she glances up at the entrance of the hotel in all its grandiose glory. “are we ready?” whether the question was for her or the both of them was anyones guess.

martha only answers with a smile. ready or not, they are here. the curtain has lifted, the spotlight has been cast. there’s no turning back. and she hopes finley understands that. “it’s showtime, baby.” the engine grunts to a halt, as she pulls the key from the ignition and opens the door. a valet helps her out, exchanging pleasantries with her before he takes the key. martha doesn’t look back or wait for finley to follow. she saunters inside the hotel lobby, poised and graceful, determined to do a job and to do it well. 

but once she’s inside, she feels something off. a well-dressed man, and a gaggle of staffers, walks past her, heading out of the hotel. odd — that’s a consultant, a lobbyist. why is he leaving? she didn’t look back, instead continues on, as if she thinks nothing was out of order. her mind opens and a chorus of voices crescendos. she sifts through each thought, all the while continuing to walk towards the venue, taking answers instead of asking for them. cancelled… left… emergency… son. 

masten is gone. 

her jaw tightens. someone must have tipped him off. this was an important luncheon. potentially a million in donations to his campaign. he won’t have just left. his son would have to be on his last breath. martha wants to turn around, alert finley of the fact. but then… 

finley. finley, finley, finley. it’s the anxiety that courses through her. martha would have dismissed it as normal — she was out here to kill someone for the first time. but her thoughts. god! are they loud. charles fucking xavier should have at least trained these idiots to mask better!

martha doesn't let it show on her face. that she knows. and everything she’s about to do to her. instead, she walks on, mind searching for a blindspot. “we need to check our exits,” she lies — in a way finley wouldn’t be able to doubt. she turns towards an empty hallway, walking with purpose, fists clenched. when they reach the end, martha turns, the mirthful grin returning to greet finley. “you fucking bitch,” she hisses, as her mind grapples finley’s. like vines stretched around her brain, effectively taking control. she makes her feel pain, like each nerve below her waist is being stretched and strained, until finley can no longer stand. “you tipped him off. you tipped masten off.” now they’re going to have to find him! a deviation in a perfectly good plan! sure, she likes spontaneity. but not with jobs she didn’t enjoy doing! “roll up your sleeves, darling. cause i’m about to put you to work.”

finley checks the clock on the dashboard before the engine is killed. masten should be leaving any second if the tip landed. now or never. she climbs out of the passenger seat, falling a few paces behind martha as they enter the hotel, bustling with people left and right. but, as quickly as they enter, a stream of people exit, and finley feels like a weight is lifted from her shoulders. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s masten’s team. black suits swiftly exiting the building before anyone can say a word on the matter. they’re in the clear. she just has to make it back to headquarters, deal with whatever consequence they’ll get for letting him slip by, and bail out of there before anyone can catch wind of who she is or what she’s done. maybe, just maybe, it would all be fine! 

martha summons her to do an exit check— it feels odd seeing as they haven’t even done any sort of scan of the crowd yet, but finley knows it’s not her place to ask questions. especially as she tries to lean into her ignorance and nerves. just follow the leader, and make it out alive, she tells herself.

they tread down a long hallway, martha’s pace obnoxiously quick for someone who wants to check their get away route— whether they’ll need it or not. and, as finley opens her mouth to mention they had passed the stairwell already, martha whips around to face her with a look that makes finley’s blood run cold. and then there’s the pain. it coils around her, white hot heat shooting through her limbs. she can’t even scream from the intensity of the pain, collapsing onto the carpeted floor with a soft thud as she curls in on herself to no avail. the pain is rooted in whatever martha is doing to her, and it will not let up.

“i— i didn’t,” finley forces out voice tight as she tries her best to writhe in pain, but her body no longer feels like her own. she reaches for her powers somewhere in her mind, something to defend herself with and get martha off of her, but she just can’t. she can’t move, and it’s somehow more terrifying than any other aspect. being completely out of control of her own body.

“martha, please,” finley begs. whether it’s a last ditch effort to swear her false allegiance or to spare her from whatever comes next is beyond finley’s comprehension. she can only think about the searing pain keeping her pinned to the carpet floor of the hotel.

martha only laughs at her pleas. the sound of it was humorless — almost pained. a part of her, buried deep in her subconscious, doesn’t want to do this. but what else can she do? she can’t abandon the mission. and she can’t let a traitor — a xavier spy — off the hook. if you get red on your ledger, you pay for it. she looks down on finley, watching her writhe in pain. “please? okay. since you’re asking so nicely.” but when the pain stops, finley will find that all her sensations would, too. she’s only along for the ride, with martha on the wheel. “get up,” martha instructs. but finley can’t. “what’s wrong? get up.” and when finley still can’t move, martha sighs. “alright, alright. i’ll help you.” it’s only then that finley stands, completely out of her own volition. she doesn’t need a demonstration. by now, finley understands what was happening. but martha still wants to show her. she presses her own hands together and, like a mirror, finley does the same. “alright, time to show me what you can do, missy! let’s find masten. and, as a little prize for being a smart little cunt, you get to kill him.” martha’s grin is almost diabolical, eyes wide with what looked like glee. but only anger burns hot beneath the surface. she finds no joy in this. she wishes finley just stuck to the script. 

it’s obvious to finley that her cover is blown at this point. she knows everything, and it’s all her own undoing. and now she’s stuck here, the fibers of the carpet rubbing unforgivingly through the fabric of her pants as she is completely at martha’s mercy. the pain begins to subside some, the dull ache of her body coming down from the shooting pain still there for a moment before everything goes blank. there is no white hot pain, there is no ache, and there is no feeling. it’s as if someone had turned of everything in her body other than the course of her own thoughts. she feels paralyzed. martha taunts her, telling her to get up, stand up and no matter how much finley wills her body to move she stays on the floor unmoving and out of control of her body. and then martha speaks and her body springs into action like some remote controlled robot, standing with ease, like nothing had happened. she does not have to control for the fear to shake her body, but she can feel the terror washing over her in waves as martha speaks. “no,” finley croaks, unable to shake her head, “no i don’t— i can’t.”

but whatever link martha had bonded them together with worked, at least at her will, both ways. all finley needs is a location. that’s all she’s ever needed to successfully get from point a to point b. and martha does not hesitate to provide her with that. it hasn’t been that long, they haven’t made it all that far from the hotel, and she wishes there was anything she could do to give them more time. but she can see masten in her mind, and under martha’s influence, the gap begins to close. before she knows it, they’re standing in the middle of some backroad, the darkened hallway replaced by afternoon sun streaming through tree leaves. and the rush of an oncoming car can be heard not too far up the road, a short line of black vehicles rounding the blind corner behind which martha and finley stand. martha doesn’t move, and so neither can finley. the ever familiar sound of squealing tires and crunching metal hit finley like a freight train. if she could collapse, she would have right then in there, as unwanted memories float through her mind. she can’t tell if it’s her or martha making those happen. 

there’s a lack of movement from most of the vehicles. the impact must have been enough to, at best, knock a few members of the convoy out. at worst… well, the blood on finley’s hands wouldn’t just be masten’s. “haven’t we done enough? we’ve scared him, i’m sure. why do we— why do i have to kill him? don’t make me do this, i can’t do this.” she doesn’t care how pathetic the begging sounds, her voice straining through every word to reach some sort of pathos within martha. she knows it won’t work deep down, that it’s all just prolonging the inevitable if she’s lucky. but, she has to try anything to prevent this.

martha almost wavers — almost. finley’s memories, flashes of an accident martha wasn’t even there for, burns crisp and sharp inside her mind. she’s so intricately linked to finley that she sees everything finley sees, feels everything finley feels. as if it were her memories, her emotions. she almost wavers.

but martha’s own words echo inside her head. you can’t hesitate 

you believe in the mission and the cause, don’t you?

hold on to that, and it’ll be easier.

stop them, she instructs, before any of masten’s security detail could weakly draw out their guns and point it at the pair. knock them unconscious — a job better done by her. but finley was fighting. she can’t risk losing her grip on finley’s mind, even by a small amount. walk. their steps sync together, left foot first and then the right. they walk side by side, passing the first car, and move on to the second. right where masten was.

four people. two in the front — unconscious. masten and his chief of staff in the back — barely conscious. she steps back and finley forward. open the door. pull him out.

once he was on the pavement, masten coughs and sputters. the deep gash on his head bleeds, the red trickling down his face. words — pleas to spare his life — leaves his mouth in unintelligible mumbles. martha doesn’t listen, although she understands everything running through his mind, clear as the sky above them. she sees every memory flashing inside his head, as the realization that he would be breathing his last breath slowly sinks in.

mercy. for a moment, she thinks she should spare him some. spare finley some, too. but, no. they need to learn a lesson.

“kill him. now.”

there is nothing more horrifying to her than being out control of her own body. every instinct in her is screaming to stop— this is wrong, they have families and children. they’re people for god’s sake. just like her. and here she is being forced to fling them aside, discarded without so much as a wave of her hand. it makes her stomach churn. 

all finley needs is for someone to show up. any of the omegas. just someone to get her out of the mess she had gotten herself in to. but with every step they took, and every command that martha forced on her, finley’s hope dwindled. 

against her own volition, she pulls masten from the car, still dazed from the accident. blood stains the side of his face seeping into the collar of his shirt as finley drops him onto the roadway despite herself. she knows what’s coming. martha has every intention to complete their mission whether finley’s a willing participant or not. and, she is not. 

that doesn’t stop the begging even as her body betrays her and moves forward on martha’s command. some part of her body burns, the now familiar crackle of electricity at her fingertips, but it’s more violent than usual. as if her abilities are, too, rejecting the action she’s being forced to take. 

it’s the agonized scream that truly makes finley’s mind shut down. it’s as if everything is underwater. she feels like she’s floating just as much as she is drowning, and then there’s organs, human organs, splayed across the pavement and the screaming has stopped but it doesn’t make anything better. 

she’s seen a dead body before. this early on, they just seem to be asleep, but in a few minutes, he’ll get cold and pale, and it’ll be an agonizing way for his family to see him, chest torn, organs dislodged from their homes all because of finley

a part of her wants to scream, but she can’t even find air to breathe, let alone her voice. all she can do is stare and hyperventilate in hopes that maybe she’ll pass out, and be spared by any further torture that martha wishes to give her.

he had opted to be with masten, to have the other man by his side so that he could personally protect him. but the other didn't trust han-byul song, he just shook his head and said that his own personal guards will protect him, that han-byul should just focus on capturing the assassins. of course, how splendid. 

he's in his own car, watching from afar, waiting for someone to come out, to at least see finley in one piece. and while he does see her, alongside the other brotherhood member, how they came to be and the situation itself all catches him off guard. his hands tighten around the wheel, the soda can in his car rattles in the cup holder before being completely crushed by his own ability. this isn't right, he thinks to himself, this doesn't feel right. something is wrong. and he's right, something is wrong, he just doesn't know that martha knows of finley as a spy and is currently controlling her. all he sees is martha standing beside finley who is getting ready to pull masten out of his car. at the same time, han-byul is getting out of his own car, not even worrying about closing the door on his way out. 

he doesn't shout, he doesn't tell them to stop, he doesn't even call finley's name. he knows that he's supposed to, he's been trained to negotiate, but you cannot negotiate with murderers like the brotherhood. each step brings a trembling to the space around them, the top of trash cans getting dented, light posts that shook and bend inwards, buildings that rattle with the force. and with each step and movement from finley with masten causes the trembles to intensify. 

but it's her next course of actions that sends han-byul punching the air. he doesn't expect finley of all people to do this, she's on their side, she gave charles xavier this information, and yet-- "stop!" he shouts, a bit late but it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, as the words are flying out of his mouth and his fist punches downwards. the trembling and rattling stops around him only focusing on the area around finley and martha. it's a crack in the air, the pressure, the gravity that forces them both down to their knees, invisible chains to keep them in place. it doesn't stop there as han-byul controls the gravity around himself, reducing the pull of gravity in order to sprint towards the duo, faster than ever and his fist pulled back and aimed towards martha. and as soon as he's done with her, he'll go after finley.

“fuck!” martha yelps, as her knees scrape against the concrete. her limbs feel heavy, pulled to the ground by an insurmountable force. she tries to reach for finley — the connection between them was severed, swiftly and suddenly — but she can’t move. when she attempts it, it feels like her skin is being torn apart. 

she needs to refocus — not on finley. but on their unwanted guest. with her mind free, it stretches open once again. going further and further out until it found him — han-byul song. an omega. 

of course. xavier was working with them. she saw him at the ball, saw the little dramatic play they executed towards the end. it was a warning — a warning the brotherhood only took as a challenge. martha should’ve known, should’ve anticipated this.

it comes in waves — the pain that travels from the tip of han-byul’s toes and shoots up his entire body. like every nerve is frayed; stretched and strained to its limit. she doesn’t know how strong han-byul is but martha doesn’t want to risk anything. she amplies the pain — a few times worse than what finley had felt. just to ensure he can’t meddle, as martha and finley make their escape.

once the force around them eases, martha quickly takes hold of finley’s mind. not waiting or wavering this time. they need to be gone, before the omega can do anything else. or, before the rest can appear.

take us back to the headquarters. she planted the image of their destination inside finley’s mind, and willed her to do the rest. 

she never thought she would feel relieved to come back to the brotherhood’s headquarters. her breath hitched, her heartbeat quickened. all the adrenaline had worn out, replaced by a psychological hangover. for a moment she forgot finley, until she noticed the other in her periphery. 

martha grabbed her by the shoulder and calmed her down. she manipulated finley’s emotions, until the distress fell to the back of her mind, until her breath evened out, until her eyes were empty. it made it easier for the next part — putting her to sleep. slowly, finley’s limbs gave out, as unconsciousness visited her. martha had to catch her, before her body could fall to the ground.

it's a moment of relief to hear someone else's voice, even if she looks extremely incriminated right now. her eyes are still trained downwards even as they approach. but, she knows it's probably one of the omegas. all her suspicions are confirmed when the world shakes, and they're dropped to their knees, the gravity in the air heavy. han-byul song— makes sense. but, she can't even bother to agonize over the weight of the world, because martha's out of her brain. her thoughts can be their own once again, and any consequence is worth it to keep it that way. 

of course, that relief is gone within moments, martha stopping han-byul in his tracks, and as quickly as she was gone, she's dug her fingers back into finley, taking over her mind, and subsequently, her abilities once more. headquarters. she's as good as dead once they get back there, and she'll be offering herself up like a lamb to the slaughter. and, with how incriminating this looks, there's no promise anyone would be stupid enough to try and come to her rescue again. 

she wants to make eye contact with han-byul, and plead with him, explain this wasn't her doing— she was no better than a puppet on a string at this point. but, she knows it's a matter of seconds before they're gone, and she's sealed to her fate. 

the side street is gone, and in a flash, they're standing in the brotherhood headquarters. it's still relatively quiet as people filter in from their own missions, but she can still feel panic gripping her chest. 

martha, still very much linked to her mind, must be able to tell as she drains any sort of fear and panic out of finley— certainly not out of kindness, but to keep her from thrashing, panicking, doing something stupid enough to break whatever connection she had created. and, once again, against her will, she's forced into a sleep. most likely the last peaceful one she'll ever have again.

ooc: so here we are! four people dead, and the brotherhood have uncovered a spy in their midst. the omegas and xavier will be in a flurry trying to withdraw april and isobel, but also find a way to get finley out of there. all the omegas and xavier students have now been made aware by professor xavier and han-byul about the three spies in the organization. the brotherhood will be searching for other traitors, while interrogating finley for all she knows and what she’s told. the only people who know where she is are magneto, betty, irena, and the top agents. her torture will be mainly handled by the top agent she was under, ezra.

even those outside of the groups can feel the tension bubbling under the surface. something’s coming—and no one will be spared when it finally boils over. 

be on the lookout for another plot drop coming later this may!

[chromosome23hq]

THE WORLD REACTS…

featuring: @frances-c-g, @shadcwstealer, @viictorious, and @atticus-bellefield

with thanks to the wonderful cola for the second graphic in this, as it is made beautifully by her!

the blows dealt by the brotherhood in the latest series of attacks reverberate not only across the city, but across the country. the pentagon being attacked shakes d.c. a congressman being murdered in broad daylight disturbs every government official, no matter the level, especially by mutants. with the failure of the omegas in protecting them, the creators of the project begin to doubt in their abilities. 

if a structure that’s meant to be as impenetrable as the white house can be broken into, what hope does every other government facility have? who will be next? they scramble over what the mutants who broke in learned, and how to find them, quickly. with everything on such fragile ground, no one was prepared for the murder of a government official to happen a few days later.

because of the circumstances, the governor assigns a new congressperson to finish the rest of congressman masten’s term in lieu of having a special election. congresswoman coldwell gives a speech broadcasted across every news channel giving her condolences to the masten family, and expressing her goals for the future that include finding his killers and punishing them to the highest extent the law allows. 

in the world of celebrity, there’s been an outpouring of support for the now orphaned sunny hwang. the broadway show she was going to star in has, understandably, been postponed out of respect for her loss. victor has experienced the opposite end of that treatment, as people blame him for the death of two beloved stars. his injuries earn him no sympathy, and even fans of his music ask whether he’s a help or a hinderance to the omegas. 

while matthew bellefield is the least well known of all the assassination targets, his death creates a rumble through the underground world. those who also had their toes dipped in the business of outing mutants for financial gain start to look over their shoulders. more seem to disappear every day that passes. but the police consider the number #1 suspect to be atticus bellefield, the victim’s brother who was found with the body next to an unconscious omega. when siren does awaken a few days later, she tries to assure them it isn’t him, but they seem doubtful, as does the news.

nathaniel essex decides to keep the failed attack on essex house out of the press. he doesn’t like to appear weak, even if they did overcome the intruders, they still were able to get in. for now, he’ll keep this information in his back pocket to use in the future, if needed. 

the city is a wreck everywhere someone turns. no one is left untouched by the brotherhood’s victories and failures. charles must deal with the fact the brotherhood has uncovered one of his little spies. erik’s anger is reaching a tipping point. can you predict what happens next? 

as shakespeare wrote in macbeth, “it will have blood: they say, blood will have blood.” 

[chromosome23hq]

APRIL 25TH, 1998. WASHINGTON D.C., THE PENTAGON 

MISSION OBJECTIVE: Daichi Kato is to lead a team consisting of Ciaran O’Connell ( @combustiibles ), Lorelei Sivan ( @wooziims ), and April Honey ( @aprilhoneys ) as the four Brotherhood agents break into The Pentagon to steal any and all information regarding mutants that the Government has accumulated over the years. 

TW: Death, Violence, Blood

To think that between the four top agents, Daichi Kato is sent on a mission like this. To steal any and all Government documents on mutants. If he's being honest, it feels more like something that Sela would be good at, or even Mari, not for a man who is about and for action, who advocates for violence. What's so important about a bunch of papers? Who gives a shit? Erik gives a shit and while Daichi is only here as a temporary top agent, he still listens to what the big boss has to say. Because he respects and fears Erik. With the snap of his fingers, tiny ice spears surround Daichi before launching into the cameras on the ceiling. "Cameras are out," he tells the three. "But I'm sure whatever guards they have will be down here soon. Take them down, kill them if you have to, but don't focus entirely on fighting. We need to find the room where the documents are being stored."

This isn’t the first time Ciarán O’Connell has been tasked with stealing documents, it is the first time he's been asked to break into a government building. If he’d been given an option, he would've been literally anywhere else. But he hadn't, so here he is. "I say we grab the first one- the other's might be less likely to attack if we have one of their own. Then we can knock them out?" He suggests, though admittedly he isn’t quite sure how to go about this.

April Honey’s hands are literally shaking, and she feels like she’s about to throw up all over her teammates leading the way. Daichi is talking, but nothing is really sinking in. How could Charles trust her to go undercover? She’s literally the worst spy ever! Heck, she'd even fallen for one of the bad guys. Well, not fallen, exactly. More like she’s infatuated with how beautiful he and his motorcycle are. "Mhmm," she hums in agreement with what Ciaran said. "A hostage situation sounds like a good way to get through to the room with as much fuss as possible. I can paralyze them before we leave. They won't be able to call for help that way and it gives us time to get out of here and to a safe place."

Teamwork. An absolute joke, It is. Stealing documents from the some suits with a higher up Lorelei Sivan had hardly ever spoken to and two teammates she'd never even acknowledged , a joke. Hearing said teammates suggestions, has her scoffing. "Hostages? Paralyzing? What is this, rookie hour?" Wisps of red coil around her hands, readying to wrap around the necks of each guard. "We should be the only ones leaving this facility alive, why not just take out a lot of them?"

"Taking hostages isn't a bad idea, Io," he says, sparing a glance for a second before looking forward again. "And we can't waste our time killing everyone, we're just here to get these documents then leaving right away." He was specifically told to get the papers and leave by not only Elizabeth but Irena and Magneto too-- because the three of them knew him and what he would do. And if it was up to him... this place would be a blood bath. At the first door, Daichi calmly opens it and even though no one can see his face under his Kitsune mask, he smiles and bows gently. There's at least three people inside, two scientists and one guard, all surprised to see the four of them. "Hello!" Daichi says in Japanese, adding to the confusion. "It's so great seeing all of you, hope today has been great so far. Yes, yes, we're looking for something and need some help. Ah, but we only need one of you." Shooting his hands in the air, two large ice sickles shoot up from the ground and pierce one of the scientists and guards in the chest, only leaving the other scientist trembling in fear. "You'll be our tour guide. Jaime Pond--" What a ridiculous name. "-- Go ahead and get our lovely tour guide."

April stays silent when Lorelei shoots down the idea of hostages and using her secretion ability. Looking at the ground, she rolls her eyes in annoyance. The last thing she wants to do is end up fighting with a Brotherhood member, so she keeps her mouth shut, only focusing on what Daichi has to say now. He's their leader, only his decision matters on this mission. The temptation to extend her tongue and trip Lorelei up is strong, though. April adjusts her eye mask to make sure her identity isn't at stake, following after Daichi and watching him open the door. Quicker than she can blink, there's blood and ice. Not being able to bring herself to look at what he'd just done for fear of throwing up or having an anxiety attack, she keeps her attention only on their new tour guide. "Of course, Kuraokami." She hops forward to close the distance quickly, fingers wrapping around the hostage's wrist tightly, dragging him behind her as she hops to the exit. "You'll do whatever we say, otherwise you'll end up like your friends back there. You look like a guy who has a family, maybe you can go on a nice vacation after this... I hear Barcelona is rockin' this time of year." She should not be making small talk, but she feels anxious and awkward. April notices a rogue guard coming with her peripheral vision, so she acts quickly. Her tongue shoots out of her mouth, wrapping around his waist and pulling him towards them.

Truth be told, Ciarán isn’t entirely sure how to process what he witnessed as April's tongue lash out towards the guard. He is relieved that he's not the one on the receiving end, however, though it doesn't stop him from feeling somewhat useless in the moment. He's presented with an opportunity to act when April catches the other guard. "I'll keep an eye on him," he states, before stepping forward to grab the man's arm, his fingers digging into his skin as he yanks him closer.

“It's a hostage, frog face. Not a potential timeshare victim. You’re an entire headache, oh my God.” Doesn’t hide the sneer that decorates her face, watching April's tongue wrap around the guard. Even Ciarán, simply moves to hold said guard still, so boring! The next few guards that come rushing in aren’t met with the same simplicity, instead are flung into the wall, held in place by a wave of red energy. “How about some mind games, huh. Before the real tough guys come through.” A vapor-like mist floats itself into the heads of the two new guards, effects taking place instantaneously, in the form of nightmarish hallucinations. “How much time do we have, until the troublesome ones come running in?”

There’s a reason why Daichi wanted to take his own team on this mission, everyone already had a bond and knew how to work together. Unlike this makeshift team of misfits who couldn’t even pretend to like each other long enough to complete this mission. “You’re an even bigger headache than her,” he says to Lorelei, rolling his eyes. Maybe he should’ve done this on his own, at least then he wouldn’t have to deal with any bickering. “Few minutes if we’re lucky.” A minute if he’s being realistic but when has the Daichi Kato ever been realistic about anything?

“Io, I’m trusting you to watch the elevator. If anyone comes down here, kill them, I don’t give a shit. Just make sure no one gets past you.” There’s a twinkle in her eye, as if she’s been waiting for this moment. He gets it, he’s the same way ( the man just killed two people without any hesitation ). “You two, follow me. We need to find these documents and get out of here immediately.” Clapping his hands together and slowly pulling them apart, ice materializes in the wake, shaping into a knife. He’s quick, handling the knife with care before he’s almost slamming the ice blade into the scientist’s chest, only to stop just inches from it. “If you don’t want to die, Doc, I recommend that you help us.

“Take us to where all of your research on mutants is located. And I mean all of it.” He doesn’t miss the way the scientist’s eyes grow big, the fear that swims and crashes, it excites Daichi.

What he does miss is the fear in April’s eyes, the anxiety that courses through her veins, and the way her hands have yet to stop shaking. It’s a good thing that he does miss it because she’s sure that he would’ve found her out. That he’ll send that knife straight into her heart, or maybe even an ice arrow as if he’s Cupid himself. Wow, even during a time like this she’s still head over heels for his evil charms.

The scientist finally nods, words falling from his mouth in a rush. “O-Okay, I’ll help you! Please, don’t kill me. I have two kids waiting for me at home.” Daichi smiles, pulling the knife away and giving it to Ciaran.

“Good! Peres, take the lead and keep this with you. Just in case our lovely tour guide needs some motivation.”

Ciaran takes the knife, though he’s not happy about it. He’s fine with using his own ability to get the scientist to talk, he’s been using it this entire time. But he still takes and follows orders, walking around Daichi in order for the scientist to guide them to the room. Behind them, he can hear the elevator chime and the footsteps of more guards. Lorelei doesn’t seem like the type to ask for help but he knows that not one person can handle that many people on their own. So he presses the knife to the scientist’s throat, eyes hard as he says, “Be quick, we don’t have all day.”

“O-okay, it’s not far, I promise.”

So they follow him, heading down the hall and turning left, the scientist points to the door all the way down the hall. “That’s it right the–”

Before he can finish his sentence, a door is kicked open, the four of them stopping and turning to see. Rushing out from the staircase are six guards, Jordan Porter, and Louis Bhatt all stand across from the four. “Put your hands up, mutants!” Two of the guards point guns in their directions while the other four pull out batons, ready to run out and fight hand to hand if necessary. “And let go of the hostage, now!”

Daichi doesn’t care for the guards, no, his eyes are on Jordan Porter, or better yet Backlash. He’s very familiar with the Omegas, only because of a certain Omega he left behind for “a guy’s trip with my childhood friends”. Now this is where the fun begins! “Finally!” He shouts, clapping and cheering as if it's a sporting event. “I’ve been waiting for this. Was getting tired of these small fries.” He doesn’t give the guards a chance to react, Daichi making two finger guns, pointing in the direction of the guards with guns, fires ice bullets straight into their heads.

The two guards fall back with a yelp, thus sending the other four guards to rush the three Brotherhood members. Ciaran and Daichi are quick to action, taking on the guards with ease, as if they’ve been waiting for this moment. Which is true enough, they have been waiting for this, the rush of being able to fight another person, the rush of throwing a person into a wall, of a fist connecting with their jaw, or a kick to the shin.

It’s April who doesn’t move, she’s too nervous to do so, especially when she sees her old professor across the hall. She wants to hide, wants to dig a hole for herself, or to go into one of the rooms until the fight is over. So preoccupied with her own anxieties, she’s unaware of a guard who tries to attack her. His baton is held up high, ready to strike the young woman before a kick is sent to his temple, the guard’s head getting crushed between the assailant’s heel and the wall.

“All that training I put you through and you’re not using any of it?” His face is hidden from her but April can only imagine the smile on Daichi’s face. “We’re in a middle of a fight, you need to–”

But just like her, a guard tries to attack him. One that he knocked down but has gotten back up, ready to get his revenge. April is quick for once, her tongue springs out and attaches itself to the guard, paralyzing the man and causing him to fall limp on the ground. It surprises her that she does this, she just attacked a good guy! But then there’s Daichi patting her back, praising her for a job well done. She’s sick again and she’s not sure if it’s because she’s proud or disappointed in herself.

Just like them, Ciaran handles the two guards with ease. Knocking them out and using his ability, grabbing one’s arm and causing a mini explosion, the guard cries out in pain. Then to the other, he sends a punch straight for his nose and then places the palm of his hand on the man’s chest, another explosion that sends him falling as well.

With all six guards down, Jordan and Louis run in to fight. Jordan who goes straight for Ciaran and Louis who goes towards Daichi and April. Daichi wishes that it was him fighting the Omega but he’ll take this random guy. Or at least, he wants to but he remembers the real reason why they’re here. The mission isn’t to fight off guards and Omegas, it’s to get the needed information for the higher ups. And because he’s the leader of this mission, he’s expected to get said information immediately.

“I’m leaving these guys to you two,” he tells Ciaran and April, Daichi stepping backwards, eyes scanning and searching for the scientist from earlier. Ah! There he is, cowering on the floor, head tuck into his legs in order to make himself look smaller than usual. Daichi reaches for the back of the other’s lab coat, dragging him to his feet. “I won’t be long! Just keep them away from this room.”

Neither get the chance to disobey as they’re to fight off the two. Daichi does feel bad at that moment, maybe just a little. But he can’t waste anymore time, it’s not just Ciaran and April he has to watch over, but also Lorelei who has been left alone with guards. He’s on a time crunch and if he doesn’t want to head back to NYC with three corpses, he needs to hurry.

Finally at the door, Daichi shoves it open, throwing the scientist inside. He was expecting an office but instead it’s a file room, filled with nothing but gray drawer cabinets. “Which one of these has the documents?” There’s no time to be sweet with the guy as he wraps his hands around his neck, frost slowly spreading from where his hands rested. “Be quick!”

It’s not the grip that scares the scientist but the spreading cold. “I-It’s over there! The bottom drawer!” His hands scramble to get Daichi to let go of him. “I’m telling the truth, the entire drawer is dedicated to the Mutant Research Department.”

Mutant Research Department? He smiles, Daichi letting go of the scientist, letting the other fall to the ground as he heads for the specific drawer. He tries to open it but it doesn’t budge. Of course not, a key is needed. “Where’s the key?”

The scientist points upwards, at the key hook that holds several keys. Daichi gets all of them and uses every single one, the third key clicks, Daichi finding the correct key. With zero grace, he pulls open the drawer, his eyes falling on all of the neatly filed documents. There are manila folders, one red floor, one blue, and then sheets of paper that shit outside of folders. Daichi can tell that this specific drawer is important and deeply cared for, because nothing is just thrown inside carelessly. The organization of it all reminds him of his father’s study, it sends a wave of disgusting nostalgia throughout his entire body.

He picks up the manila folder first, flipping it open to get a quick glimpse of what’s inside. And for the first time, he finds his stomach churning. All of the documents are of mutants used as test subjects. One of a ten year old, another of a thirteen year old, a twenty year old, and one in their seventies. Each file had a picture attached, with information on their height, weight, abilities, where they’re from– but none of them had a name. Just numbers. Sickening.

He drops the folder to the floor, picking up the red one. This folder has what he was expecting to see, information on the Cuban Missile bullshit that happened between Magneto and Charles Xavier. Magneto told him to keep an eye out for that and to grab all the files on it. He drops that to the floor too. He then reaches for the blue folder, surprised at the information that he finds here.

Unlike the other two folders, this one has writing on the front of it. Well Known Mutants / Suspected Mutants. Flipping it open, he’s meant with the pictures and names of individuals back in NYC. Articles and employment forms of every single Omega, a photo of Charles Xavier from the NYE Gala, an old photo of a younger Magneto, and then a list of notes with pictures paperclipped to it of different individuals:

Monique Lanchester: Father - Miami’s Heat Co-Coach Jackson Lanchester, said to be a “beast”, says a former housekeeper

Maxine Brandt: CEO of B&G, under the suspicion that she’s a mutant

Mark Jenson: Televangelist, snake mutation, well known mutant

River Alexander Masten: Father - Christopher Masten, under the suspicion that he’s a mutant

Ciaran O’Connell: Parents - Callum and Maureen O’Connell, well known lawyers , neighbors said to have seen a contained “explosion” happen within the house

January St. James: Socialist, confirmed mutant, manipulates reality

He doesn’t get the chance to continue reading as he hears April screaming and Ciaran cursing loudly. His face hardens, he needs to leave quickly. “Get me a bag!” he shouts to the scientists, the other man scrambling to get what Daichi needs. As the scientists does that, Daichi combs through the cabinet once more, this time pulling out whatever looks important. If he could, he would take the entire drawer but that’s not plausible. So instead, he’s left with three folders and at least seven sheets of paper. The scientist, finally finds a left behind bookbag, brings it to Daichi.

Daichi shoves everything inside of the bookbag, zips it up, and tosses it over his shoulder. He’s about to sprint out before the scientist speaks up. “S-so does this mean that I’m free to go?”

His jaw tightens, his mind still on the mutants who are being treated as test subjects by the government. Once again creating a finger gun, he connects his pointer finger to the others forward before shooting an ice bullet straight through his head. “Someone as disgusting as you doesn’t deserve to live.”

Wasting not another minute, Daichi sprints out into the hallway, face to face with Ciaran who’s holding his head and April who’s holding her stomach in pain. No jokes, no laughs, no nothing, Daichi runs straight for Jordan, kicking the other in the stomach, sending him straight to the floor. Hands work quickly to create ice handcuffs, both around his wrist and ankles.

One left. Louis is already waiting for him, the other using his ability on Daichi to force him to his knees. And Daichi almost drops, head pounding with intense emotions, of thoughts and memories that almost make him throw up. But he’s not weak, he doesn’t fall to his knees for no one. Within seconds he’s able to create an ice knife and when he’s close enough, plunges it into the side of the other’s right leg. Louis cries out in pain, his ability stopping briefly but just in enough time for Daichi to connect his fist to his jaw, the other falling to the ground from the impact.

“Fucking bastard,” he says. During both of his fights, both April and Ciaran are finally standing, the two having grim looks on their faces. He doesn’t have the time to ask them if they’re okay. “We need to leave.” The two nod their heads as they break out into a run, heading back to Lorelei.

She’s still standing when they get to her but barely, the exhaustion clear on her face from having to fight alone. There’s still three guards standing, smirking as if they won. But with Daichi there, it’s clear who the winner is as he sends ice sickles straight through their chests. Taking the bookbag off, he shoves it into April’s chest as he grabs hold of Lorelei before she falls to the ground.

The wheels in his head are turning as he tries to figure out how they’re going to escape. They can’t use the elevator again and he’s sure that the stairs are blocked off. Think, Daichi, think, he tells himself. How the hell are you gonna get out of here?

Then the idea comes to him. It’s a silly one, a trick that he used years ago when he was a teenager helping a friend sneak out of his head. But it’s the best trick to use in this situation.

“Peres,” he says, nodding towards the wall. “I need you to make a whole and make it quick.”

Ciaran doesn’t ask any questions nor does he objects, rushing to the wall, he places both hands on it. It takes some time, just several seconds but honestly felt like hours to the other three, the wall explodes outwards, chunks of it falling outside. “Okay,” Daichi says. “Everyone stand close and be prepared to run when we have to.”

April and Ciaran stand close to him as Daichi heaves Lorelei onto his back. Breathing in and then out, ice shoots out from the palm of Daichi’s hands, the top agent creating an icy trail for them. “Okay, let’s go!” The others follow beside him, making sure not to slip and slide on the trail the best they could. Luckily none of them did, they stay close to him until they’re far from the Pentagon and in the safety of their van.

Mission accomplished.

. . .

Despite believing that he got everything of importance from the drawer, there was one folder that was left behind. Resting on the counter just three steps away from the opened drawer cabinet was a green folder. No title was left on the outside but the contents of it held many secrets and even information that the Brotherhood, Xavier Institute, and Omegas would find important in the coming months.

Held from these three conflicting groups was the name Linda McCall and the Seven Deadly Sins. Their identities left to be hidden until their first appearance.

OOC INFORMATION: 

YAY MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, EVERYONE CLAP THEIR HANDS!!! 

The information that Daichi’s team brought back to The Brotherhood all comes from the Governments new department, the Mutant Research Department ( MRD ). 

MRD was created a year after the Cuban Missile incident in order to learn more about mutants and how the Government can protect themselves and the country from dangerous mutants like Erik and Charles. 

MRD has been researching the origin story of mutants. This is still a project that is in progress and has various leads. This is the second biggest project that MRD is dealing with. Because of how big and important it, there are researchers who are working overseas in order to gather the necessary information for this project. Locations: Cairo, Egypt. Sedona, Arizona. M Triangle, Russia. London, England. Tokyo, Japan. Seoul, South Korea.

MRD also has information about celebrities and public figures who are mutants. Politicians, actors, musicians, etc, the government has acquired this information either because the individual is out or from rumors that turned into a thorough research process.

While Xavier and the Omegas were unable to stop Daichi’s team, after learning the contents of the bag, April Honey secretly sends Charles and Han-Byul a message about all of the stolen information. 

So now everyone in the Brotherhood, Charles Xavier, and Han-Byul Song know about MRD. HOWEVER, no one else in Xavier Institute or the Omegas are aware of this information ( YET )! 

Shoutout to Dub, Marcy, and Maeve for helping with this plot drop and for Spirit and May for letting me use two of their muses! You guys rock! 

And as for that last bit of the plot drop,,,, take that as your crumbs for arc two and our skeletons <3 

Stay tuned for our second plot drop, you guys are gonna LOVE it. 

[chromosome23hq]

sometime in early january of 1998. the xavier institute.

The past few months have brought Charles to a conclusion he had avoided for a long time. In the decades since the president acknowledged the existence of mutants, society remained largely the same on the surface. Most non-mutants went about their daily lives, and didn’t spare a thought to the mutants who lived in fear. Charles did his best to give a home to those in desperate need, and slowly push for further tolerance of mutants. Of course, Erik and his plans lingered in the back of his mind, but he foolishly believed he had more time to prepare for what his grand plan would be.

Then, the mayor was shot and killed. The Brotherhood eagerly claimed responsibility, and encouraged a riot in the streets. Weeks later, Rebecca was killed and her head was gruesomely put on display for Halloween. That same night the crowd who watched in horror was stabbed at random. He knew that the Brotherhood had nothing to do with that, but the news pinning the blame on radical mutants all the same. Even after he disclosed the school’s true purpose and held a gala in hopes of bring mutants and non-mutants together, an attack occurred and raised the alarm all over again.

Each event had increased the city’s fear of mutants, which in turn worsened how mutants were treated in their daily lives. That validated Erik’s message of dominance as the only answer to their oppression.

In short, Erik had the upper hand.

That was what Han-Byul and Charles were speaking about today. It was a conversation filled more with contemplative silence than words. That was until Han-Byul voiced an idea he had been saving for a moment like this.

“Every plan of the Brotherhood’s is thought of down to the detail. By the time your teachers or the Omegas arrive, it’s too late,” Han-byul began, as Charles nodded in agreement. “That’s why we need to be there from the beginning.”

Charles found himself unable to respond for a moment. “You aren’t suggesting–”

“I am,” Han-Byul confirmed. “The only way to stop the Brotherhood is to know what they’ll do before they do it. If we have someone on the inside, we can shift our focus to prevention. We can save lives.”

It was true. Right now, the Brotherhood was three steps ahead of them, and held all the advantages because of it. With the few people Charles knew were under Erik and the man himself, he had to admit they were brilliant strategists.

“Which professors do you suggest we send?” Charles asked.

Han-Byul shook his head. “We can’t send people who are known to be close to you, or too attached to the school to leave it. It would register as suspicious immediately.” He took a sip of his tea. “Students and allies of the school are our best bet.”

Shock overtook Charles’ face. It was one thing to ask this of people who had years of training, and could handle themselves in tense situations. But, students? People who helped the school, yet weren’t a part of it and had no formal training? “We would be sending undertrained mutants into a battle that began long before most of them were born,” he argued.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now in the danger room? What makes this idea any different?” Han-Byul questioned with a raised brow.

A tense silence settled into the room.

Then, Charles sighed. “You’re right.”

The only difference would be when the students would be put into the line of fire. As much as Charles wished things were different, he knew they didn’t have time to waste. “I’d like at least a month to prepare who we send, so they aren’t going in blind.”

“That’s what I was thinking. We’ll need to come up with a way they can relay what they learn without exposing themselves, and how they’ll get in contact if they are in danger,” Han-Byul explained. He would do everything he could to make sure this mission succeeded.

After another few hours of going over details and what they would do next, Han-Byul stood to leave. “Charles,” Han-Byul looked over his shoulder before opening the door to his office. “This plan cannot fail.”

With a humorless smile, Charles asked, “Do you have that much confidence in our plan?”

Han-Byul nodded, “I do.” He looked away before Charles’ smile dropped into a grave expression.

Both men knew that wasn’t what Han-Byul had meant. It was a warning.

If this mission failed, the entire city would feel the consequences of it.

mid-january to february 1998. the xavier institute.

The recruitment process would be quick and messy. There was no space for interviews or going down a list of potential candidates. Han-Byul had given his advice for what type of people to look out for: Adaptable, responsible, and powerful. At least each person should have one of those traits, he had told him.

He rolled through the halls of the institute with those words in mind as he nearly bumped into one of his students who was leaning against a wall. The moment a wheel touched her foot her camouflage wore off, and he could see her clearly–April. While he didn’t get much one-on-one time with all of his students, he still knew all of their names and powers. However, he had never seen April’s camouflage in action.

It was the epitome of adaptability.

Before she could give any explanations or apologize for what she was doing, Charles asked, “You’ve done nothing wrong. But would you come to my office with me, April? I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

— — — — — — — — 

With one person down and two more to go, Charles mentally went over the list of people he felt would be right for this mission. It was a difficult process–Han-Byul and Charles would be asking a lot of each person. They would act as if they had abandoned all their values, and cut off everyone close to them. No one could know but Charles, Han-Byul, and the three of them; it was for their safety. That didn’t make it any less of a burden.

His thoughts were broken by a small shriek by his secretary, and he quickly pushed himself to the door. Then, he felt the mind behind the door, before he heard his voice giving quick apologies. It was Evan, one of his former students and current recruiter for the school. Despite his frequent visits to the campus, his “entrances” could still give people quite the fright.

Charles considered Evan a large asset, as he was always able to pick up mutants he found and return them safely. He even had a way of calming down and connecting with the especially nervous ones. It occurred to the professor how reliable he was, and how his ability would lend itself well to undercover work.

He opened the door as Evan had his hand up ready to knock, and he smiled at the young man. “Do you have time to talk, Evan?”

— — — — — — — — 

Finally, Charles and Han-Byul needed only one more person to round out their group of agents. It had to be soon, and they had to fit within the two people they already had. This decision would be Charles’ hardest one yet.

While doing paperwork at his desk one day, he received a sudden telepathic link from Professor Frost. “Duck,” was all she said, and he followed the instruction just as a plastic ball flew through the glass window next to him.

He looked over in bewilderment, and saw two figures off in the distance. It was Emma and a redhead–Finley, Emma helpfully supplied–who was the one who had accidentally sent the ball in his direction. A few minutes later Finley and Emma were in his office, and she was apologizing profusely.

“I told you he would understand, it’s okay, Finley,” Emma attempted to comfort the nervous woman.

“It really is fine. Worse things have happened,” Charles tried to joke, but Finley still seemed weighed down by guilt.

She was one of the new students at the school, who had joined with her friend. From what Charles knew, she could control the space around her. It was astonishing she could cause an object to fly that distance already. She seemed to have a large amount of power despite little practice with it.

“Emma, would you mind giving me a moment with Finley?” His fellow professor nodded, giving Finley one last shoulder touch before leaving.

“You’re not in any sort of trouble,” he explained to her, which seemed to perk her up somewhat. “Actually, it’s the very opposite, I have an opportunity for you.”

march 1st, 1998. the xavier institute.

Everything was ready. The time was near. Three mutants handpicked by Charles and trained by Han-Byul would take the first step in infiltrating the Brotherhood, and taking it down from the inside.

Charles had told the school a few days earlier the loss of April, Finley, and Evan as allies to the school. They would no longer be welcome at the school, and could even be considered dangerous. It was not the first time he had lied to students and staff alike, nor would it be the last.

Let this betrayal be worth it in the end. Let them all return home unharmed.

march 3rd, 1998. riker’s island.

April had always felt like she was hopping along throughout life at Xavier’s, remaining off the radar, never really gaining the attention of Professor Xavier or the other teachers. Oh, how wrong she’d been. At first, when she’d been asked to go undercover, her first instinct was to laugh in the bald man’s face and tell him he’d been watching too many James Bond movies. But the look on his face had told her that he was being completely serious. So, like any good student, she agreed to be a super-secret spy. Very cool, if she did say so herself. 

“Oh, yeah, you’re so cool, April... dumbass,” she grumbled under her breath, waiting for her opportune moment to strike. She’d been laying on the ground for a while now, camouflaged with the carpet, tucked away in a corner. She was waiting for the room to empty a little so that she was left with only 4 or 5 guards to deal with. A few minutes later, the moment had come, and she grabbed the ankles of three of the guys walking past her, yanking them down to the ground. The look on their faces was hilarious, but she didn’t have time to enjoy it before the other guards came running to see what had happened. 

Jumping up from her position on the ground, she hopped up onto the desk, sitting on all fours as she extended her tongue. She could tell that they were both disgusted and confused as it came speeding towards them, hitting one in the face and sending them flying backwards, then hitting another. “Uhh, hi, I’m here to check if you guys are able to fight off a mutant,” she said, then shrugged. “Turns out you aren’t. Boo you! Your bosses won’t be happy.” She wondered if she’d done enough for Finley to get in yet. To be honest, all of this was making her stomach do horrible flips. 

As a couple of the guards got back up, April shook her head and leapt toward them, landing in front of them. Reaching out, she grabbed their wrists, excreting her paralyzing toxin from her skin. She always felt disgusted whenever she did this. But, needs must, and all that. As she held them, her tongue wrapped around the other men, crushing them tight enough to keep them quiet and unable to move, but not enough to leave them with permanent damage. Fuck, she hoped her toxin wouldn’t permanently paralyse anyone. “So sorry about this,” she whispered, not wanting Finley to overhear her. She didn’t want to seem weak and like she couldn’t handle things like this. For now, she had shit handled... But maybe this whole infiltrating the enemy thing wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.

— — — — — — — — 

Breaking someone out of prison had never been on Finley’s bucket list. Yet, here she was, hiding behind a corner in the prison, waiting for her window of opportunity. None of them had much experience with planning a prison break – surprisingly, it’s not how most people spend their afternoons – but, they’ve done their best to cultivate a plan. Besides, they succeed or end up in prison themselves. Finley liked to think the institute would bail them out, but she’s not blind to the fact that it would certainly give the plan away. And, if Xavier were to choose between three students, and putting a target on the back of the institute, he’d pick the school. Not that she blamed him for that. At least it put pressure on them not to fail. 

April was impressively good at distractions. All eyes were on her, and that left Finley open to do her job. It seemed easy enough. All she had to do was get a keycard off one of the employees without them noticing. With her ability, it should be a piece of cake if she could just get eyes on one for long enough. But, as it turned out, a moving target wasn’t ideal for someone as novice as her. If one of these guards could stop moving for all of ten seconds so Finley can focus...

But, with each wild and unruly turn the bodies in the room take, it broke any concentration Finley had. And, subsequently, made her hope for success waver. The thought crossed her mind that she should not have been one of the people Xavier picked for this job. She might be powerful, but she’s inexperienced. April and Evan had been involved with the school so much longer than her and had been trained for years to have the tools to succeed – unlike her who had only been enrolled in the school for a few weeks. The only difference? Her power was unique, and useful. Damn the universe that cursed her with a complex ability. She wouldn’t have been asked to do this if she could do something simple like shapeshift. 

The only option was to attempt to creep forward on the desk and hope someone was stupid enough to leave their keycard there. At least that wouldn’t be a moving target. 

It’s a bold move, and the blood rushed into Finley’s ears, pulsing so hard that it dampened the sound of all the other chaos in the room. Her stance was low to the ground, red hair tucked into a hat to keep it from looking like a beacon in the sea of balding heads, and dark hair. Finley’s shot to the desk was clear and unoccupied thanks to April.

Frantic eyes dance across the desk. It’s an absolute mess. Files were strewn about the desk with complete disregard. Food wrappers, hangman games, and post-it notes with nonsense were some of the only things she could make out clearly. How much closer could she get to the desk without getting caught?

A few more steps. And then she spotted it. Amidst the chaos, piles of paper, she set her eyes upon the holy grail: A keycard. 

Her hand opened up, and eyes squeeze shut for the briefest moment. All she had to do was picture the keycard in her hand and then – there it was. She opened her eyes again, glancing down at the white card now nestled in her palm. 

And it all went off without a –

“Hey!” 

Her eyes snapped up to meet another Guard’s. And, before she could even think about it, she bolted. All she had to do was meet Evan. If she could get Evan the key card to open the cells, then they’re one step closer. 

But the hammering in her chest wouldn’t slow down, and she could hear footsteps behind her. She swiveled around a corner, shoes skidding against the linoleum floor. If she didn’t do something drastic, she knew this would end with her getting caught, and the plan falling apart before it even started. 

All she needed to do was buy herself a few seconds of stillness, and maybe she could get herself to Evan without having to outrun a bunch of prison guards. She rounded another corner, eyes scanning for anywhere to hide. A file room, grabbing onto the door handle, Finley slid the keycard through the reader. Once. Twice. Click.

Finley barreled through the door, whipping around to close it in the nick of time. She could hear the sound of the booted footsteps rushing through the hall on the other side of the door. The paces slow to a halt, and she’s sure they’re scanning for her now. Closing her eyes, she did her best to picture the place that Evan was meant to wait for her arrival with the keycard. 

The feeling of the door against her back disappeared without warning, and Finley stumbled back a few steps, bracing herself for it to be the guards that had been following her. It wasn’t like it was the most ingenious hiding spot. But, when she opened her eyes, she spotted Evan instead. 

A quick glance of her surroundings confirmed that her power had worked. Regardless, the prison knew they were there now. Their window of opportunity was closing, and there was no time to waste. She stuck the keycard out to Evan. 

“They know we’re here. I’ll try and give you some more time, but move fast,” Finley warned. 

From here, it’s up to Evan. The best Finley could do is hold back anyone who came to check the cellblock while he worked. She braced herself for another first.

— — — — — — — — 

He could so very easily remember the day he sat down in Xavier’s office for that meeting. Up until he hit 16 Evan was sure the only goal in life was to drive as fast as he could, make underground history as some sort of prodigy with illegal street racing ... until he’d met Charles Xavier. The dream shifted to becoming an X-Man, fighting for the beliefs and rights of mutants everywhere, for their safety. He’d accepted that role with open palms and a smile so wide that his face hurt for days ... but he’d never expected being asked to do this. Of course, a promise had been made. And while he had his reservations, Evan saw it as a challenge. He never backed down from those.

Getting into the facility for someone like him was a breeze. Of course, it was easier if he knew the building layout, and pouring over stolen plans the night before meant he had dark circles under his eyes. Doing things for the Brotherhood, for Xavier, felt so backward that Evan felt like his head would spin off if he spent too much time lingering on it. So he simply didn’t... everything was broken down into tasks. Task one was being in a position to receive the keycard from Finley. Initiation. He could only be thankful that breaking someone out of prison was the only task they needed to achieve ( as opposed to so many worse options ).

“Hey.”

His voice felt hoarse, throat dry, when Finley appeared. Without seeing someone else he knew in this place he could convince himself it was just a bad dream, but the reality of it came with the feeling of the keycard at his palm, the extension of his arm to receive it. With Finley’s warning. And Evan wanted to suggest maybe she check on April, wanted to tell her to be safe and stay hidden, wanted to ask if she was alright in the middle of this all ... but all he could muster was a lame attempt at humor.

“Fast? I’ll make Speed Racer look like a chump.” And he was off.

Theoretically he could have teleported. If he had the willpower to ensure that he’d have enough energy through it, he could have saved them all a lot of trouble ( and he truly hoped both Finley and April would be safe ). But life didn’t work that way, and teleporting a passenger with him always left Evan feeling less of himself. At least he could thank himself for having boundless energy to run, and with a prayer he kept going.

It was just broken down into tasks. Step one was done: keycard in hand Evan paced through the first ward of the cellblock. Step two was hoping the keycard would work on the barred gates that split the second ward from the first. With a CLICK! he was in, and that was that. Step three was finding Levi - all based off of a photograph given to him by Ezra. And how fucking flippant that entire thing was ... Floor plans flashed in his head while he moved and by the time he came to the end of the corridor where Levi’s cell was estimated to be, the air felt like stinging cold when he inhaled.

“Greetings and salutations. I’m here to pull you out of the depths of hell and show you the light. You may call me your Flight Captain.” Keycard swiped, another loud CLICK! and when the door swung open Evan peered within to ensure the person matched the picture. Thankfully it did, and he reached a hand out to Levi within.

“The Brotherhood sent us. We’re getting you out of here. Hold on and close your eyes because this is going to be really uncomfortable.” He held out his hand, breathless, and readied every part of himself to make the jump. All it would take was contact, but he made sure his grip on Levi was tight ( lest something be lost in translation and how unfortunate that would be ) before he felt that familiar tingle. The swallow of movement, the neon-purple traces left behind.

With a snap they were out of the cellblock. Finley’s location wasn’t safe ( his original plan to pop himself and their mark to her location caput the moment she mentioned the guards knew they were there ) and April’s location was, by virtue of her role, not safe either. So he slipped them just outside of a lone fire escape on the west side of the cellblock, and prayed the prison schematics weren’t out of date. The slap of cold March air let him know they’d made it, and with a cursory glance at Levi he nodded. They could slip to the gate and he’d pop them across easy … or perhaps he’d teleport them into the world beyond the high fence surrounding. The world was his oyster.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Step three done. Step four was praying everyone made it out alright.

IC INFORMATION

Finley Walsh, Evan Stone, and April Honey are recruited as spies tasked to retrieve information on any future attacks by the Brotherhood.

They’ll be relaying information on a weekly basis, updating Professor Charles Xavier and Prism on the goings-on within the Brotherhood’s HQ.

To ensure discretion and the success of this mission, they’ll be asked to (pretend to) sever their ties with the Institute and go incognito in preparation for them going undercover. This means they’ll have to (temporarily) cut off contact with everyone in the Institute and keep the word of their mission a secret.

The three of them will perform a joint initiation task of breaking Levi Crowe out of prison.

Once the spies have broken them out of prison, their mission should commence immediately.

Finley Walsh is assigned to Ezra Shaw

Evan Stone is assigned to Sela Musa

April Honey is assigned to Daichi Kato

OOC INFORMATION

It’s the beginning of the end! Stay tuned for more plot drops and missions 😈

The admins will be giving the chosen Brotherhood members specific plans that the Xavier spies will have to try and extract from them so they can send the intel back to the Institute, which will be done through threads.

Once the spies have retrieved valuable information (i.e. future plans of attack), you can post about it through self-paras.

Whether all spies will be successful in their missions is up to the muns; however we advise that at least two spies will be able to successfully retrieve information.

Muns with Brotherhood members: Your character (for right now) will not have any suspicions or doubts about the spies.

Big thanks to Admin Izzy, Casey, Marcy, and Zed for being awesome writers and collaborating on the first plot drop of the end of arc one!

[chromosome23hq]

we don't make anything up; we just don't tell you everything.

there were three.

it was a dark time for new york city in the late 90s. the times were tumultuous and the city was tense. but then, something happened: an online gossip blog appeared out of nowhere, with news that was often too good to be true.

who was this mysterious blog? who was behind it? no one knew, but readers couldn't get enough. they subscribed to their email alerts and waited eagerly for each new post—which had as much to do with the scandalous content of the posts as it did with their clever writing style.

somehow, the tattletale knew everything about everyone. this information was private, personal, and sometimes unbelievable—but always entertaining. how were they getting it? some said they were mutants with omniscient powers; others said they had access to the nsa database (or maybe even the cia's). was it true? who cared! it was fun to think about! and no matter what anyone said, everyone kept reading.

will you?

OOC INFO: alrighty, folks—the gossip blog is open for chaos! just remember to read the rules and participate accordingly. if you have any questions, head over to the admin hotline ♡

[chromosome23hq]

I. ENTER THE BROTHERHOOD.

If you wished to read this plot drop on google, please click anywhere in this sentence to be redirected to the document. 

It's drivin' me out of my mind! That's why it's hard for me to find Can't get it out of my head! Miss her, kiss her, love her

Ricky Bell’s verse in Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe filled the entire club. An ocean of bodies all grinding and bumping into each other as they danced, his angelic voice brought a smile to their faces and gave them a push of energy to get through the night. The atmosphere within Club Nyx was fun loving, everyone inside was having a good time. Either sober or intoxicated fun, it didn’t matter since they were all ignoring the problems that were happening outside the club. However, this wasn’t the case for everyone inside of the club. Up on the upper levels in a room secluded from everyone and guarded by two burly men was an organization that should be avoided at all times.

They were all tense, some more than others. The room held fifteen people inside, seven of which were sitting. Six were sitting on the two deep red couches ( three on each couch ) and a glass table in between them. The six of them sat in different positions, either with hands on their laps, a glass in hand, or by sinking into the couch and allowing the music to fill their bones. But one thing they all had in common was that they were waiting for the seventh person to start talking. He sat in a lone chair that was at the head of the glass table, a drink in hand as his pinky finger tapped along to the song. That man was Erik Lensherr, the founder and leader of The Brotherhood.

[If I were you I'd take pre-] (-caution) Before I step to meet a fly girl, you know? Cause in some (Portions)

“So, what’s your plan?” Asked one of the women, an executive who sat tall and with her arms crossed over her chest. “You saw his message yesterday, we need to do something to counter it.”

The others nodded in agreement, a few mummers here and there. Erik also agreed, drinking slowly from his glass. She was right, something needed to be done and quickly. They couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. He wasn’t the type to do such a thing. No, that was something Charles Xavier would do, not him. Erik was different, he was better.

“And I agree with you, my dear.” He sat the glass down on the table, Erik leaning back into his seat, taking in everyone in the room. Right now it was just the fifteen of them, soon there will be more. “We’ll continue with our original plan, just now we’ll complete it earlier than planned.” Not a problem, it was for the best that it happened sooner rather than later. “It’s time we formally introduce ourselves to the world. Don’t you all agree?”

Sly grins spread across their faces, the members all ready to put everything into motion. Enough of using petty crimes to get their names out there, it was time to be seen and heard properly by the masses.

Poison, deadly, movin' in slow Lookin for a mellow fellow like DeVoe Gettin paid, laid, so better lay low Schemin on house, money, and the whole show

                                                          . . .

The city was a strange mixture of relaxation and fear. The Essex message was seen as both a warning and reassuring message. It made both mutants and non-mutants look over their shoulders, making them believe that something was going to happen. Many of them were expecting and waiting for these escaped Essex mutants to appear and cause problems. Believing that the news, radio stations, or the New York Times will cover an incident revolving around murderous mutants. But the only things that were covered was news about the upcoming vice mayor taking over and his political stances. Nothing special or interesting unless you were a politically involved individual, though that wasn’t the case for everyone. They were just concerned about their own safety. After all, a mutant did murder the mayor, thus living many non-mutants to go: Am I next?

Mutants were concerned about non-mutants retaliating and attacking, thus putting many mutants who were unable to protect themselves in danger. Everyone was tense and worried, all waiting for the other side to do something, waiting to see who would make the first move. So they went about their days, heading off to work and school, headphones covering their ears as they listened to music on the portable CD players or walkmans, some with their noses deep in the morning paper; they were acting like this was just an ordinary day. Not like anything could stop their daily lives.

Until it did.

It happened at exactly four in the afternoon. When everyone was typing away at their desks, trying to complete all of their work before having to clock out and pick up the kids. Where restaurants were serving food to high school students who spoke loudly with their friends, complaining about school and their families. That came to a pause at a snap of a finger as all televisions and radio stations were interrupted. Jovana Ventura Garcia had her hand raised and eyes closed as she took control of all programs and stations in New York City to cast their message. She could only hold this for exactly five minutes but that was more than enough time. With the nod of her head and the cameras on him, Erik, now dressed as Magneto, stood before the singular camera pointed in his direction.

“Good afternoon, New York City. My name is Magneto, the leader of The Brotherhood.” He stood still and steady, hands behind his back as he stared into the camera. “You may have already heard of us or seen our work. We have decided to finally make ourselves known to the world, speaking directly to all of you.

“We are an organization founded by mutants to protect and uplift our brethren,” he said coolly. “We fight for change, we fight for a better life for all mutants. A life where one does not have to hide who they truly are in order to be safe.”

Everyone watched and listened, no one able to turn the television off or to turn down the radio. In some offices, there were workers who crowded around the small radios, others who rushed onto a random floor to tell everyone to stop what they were doing and turn on the TV. Bars that were slowly filling with regulars were quiet for once, cafes that were filled with silence, the streets of New York all pausing to see and hear what was being said. Both mutants and non-mutants were confused and curious as he spoke.

“For years, we mutants had to remain in hiding in order to avoid shame and torture from non-mutants. We had to pretend to be non-mutants, to hide our gifts and true potential in order to appear normal. Which was possible for most but impossible for others who’s gifts changed their appearances. Thus forcing them to hide themselves completely, unable to roam outside their homes without being attacked. Parents who abandon their children because of their abilities, towns who attack families,

Why is that they do this? Because they fear us. Because they fear what we can and will do to them. And they are right to fear us, everyone should fear us because of how powerful we are. It is time for my brethren and I to rise to the top and live proudly and boldly as ourselves. And the only way for this to be accomplished is by the eradication of all non-mutants around the world.

“What we did to Mayor Webster was a simple example of our strength and what will happen to more non-mutants very soon. To my brothers and sisters out there, I say this. No more hiding. No more suffering. You have lived in the shadows of shame and fear for too long. Come out. Join me. Fight together in a brotherhood of our kind, a new tomorrow that starts today.”

II. A RIOT ON THE STREETS.

Then it was over. At exactly 4:05 PM, Jovana’s ability came to an end, Magneto’s face and voice no longer broadcasted to the entire city. Even though the time was short, it was more than enough to set everyone in the city into a frenzy. Non-mutants who were instantly filled with fear, for some their fear was channeled into anger. The thought of being murdered by mutants was always something on the back of their minds, now it was there more than before.

Offices were letting their employees leave early, many rushing home to check on their families. Others were calling back home to make sure everyone was okay. Then there were other workplaces that took to the message from Magneto as content to feed to the masses. The New York Times was buzzing with life. Writers running to their desks to start writing, supervisors shouting and giving different instructions to the workers, interns pushed and pulled in all directions by current employees to complete tasks. It was a warzone and watching from the sidelines was Irena Westwood. During The Brotherhood meeting, Erik entrusted her with ensuring that The New York Times was writing about his message. After The New York Times’ decided to expand their content globally using the internet, it made it easier for the Brotherhood’s message to spread outside of NYC.

Irena acted accordingly, reacting the same way as her peers, in a frenzy and a face that showed how important this matter was. Pushing for those within her section to start writing, giving advice where it was needed, and even writing her own opinion piece that would be posted onto The New York Times website. Even if Jovana’s reach wasn’t far it was alright because Irena had her back.

As for the mutants, they all stood motionless wherever they stood or sat. While they all held different reactions to the message, they all could agree with Magneto about one thing: it wasn’t right that mutants had to live in hiding. However, many didn’t agree with his plan to eradicate all non-mutants. Laurel Cunningham and River Masten were among the mutants who didn’t like the sound of Magneto’s plan. The two were living from getting drinks from the nearby coffee shop before heading back to Xavier. Their plan to just enjoy a peaceful afternoon together was destroyed, the two deciding that it was best to head quickly to Xavier and see what Charles had to say.

As the two made their way that was when the riot started up. Mutants who agreed with Magneto’s message began to react in a violent way. Trash cans were thrown through shop windows, stop signs were uprooted from the sidewalks, cars were stopped as mutants used their abilities to disturb the public. The streets were filled with screaming and shouting, non-mutants who tried to avoid the chaos, mutants who destroyed whatever was near them, police sirens that filled the space. It was a mess.

No one was aware of who started the riot, except for Simon Orwell who sat in the shadows of an alley. All it took was a few flowery words that he said in a crowd, his words giving the mutants nearby the push they needed to go, ‘ Yeah, he’s right! Screw the non-mutants! ‘. He watched as the chaos began, where cars were smashed and one cab that was flipped over by a mutant with super strength. They were in control for the first time in eons. It was time for things to change.

Laurel and River tried their best to avoid the chaos, heads ducking to avoid any flying items, of manipulation abilities that were being used, of the crying and screaming non-mutants. They needed to get back to Xavier quickly. But it was during their run that Laurel stopped, eyes falling on a Peter Rumley who was trying to avoid the rampage of a mutant who mistook him for a non-mutant. Laurel was fast on her feet, running to save her peer, ability kicking in to blind the other mutant. And while she did a good thing by saving Peter, her blinding and sparkling ability caused blindness not only to one but two other mutants who were in the process of smashing windows and throwing a bench. The bench was thrown off course where it was supposed to go. It went flying straight towards Finley Walsh and Joseph Kontos. Joseph saw it first, shouting to tell the other to duck and pushing the two of them out of the way. If anything, Finley could’ve attempted to use her spatial manipulation ability to stop the bench from flying towards them but Joseph wasn’t thinking of that. They just wanted to save the other from a flying bench.

III. THE OMEGAS TO THE RESCUE.  

The police were on the scene within minutes but many of them were non-mutants and could do nothing to the mutants. Many of them were attacked by the mutants, either pushed or punched out of the way, a few were severely injured by the emotional mutants. Luckily for the police officers, their saviors had arrived. All six Omegas were on scene, using their abilities to apprehend the mutants. It was difficult at first, as there were more rioting mutants than Omegas. But all it took was Prism, the leader of The Omegas to step forward and use his ability.

Inhaling, the older man stomped using one foot, activating his gravity manipulation ability. The rioting mutants had all stopped and were instantly propelled down to the ground, none of them were able to move no matter what they did. The other five Omegas and remaining police officers ran off to arrest the rioters; in the distance, more sirens could be heard. Even though The Omegas were able to stop the rioters, the damage that they caused couldn’t be easily fixed.

Shops were attacked, the street was destroyed, cars were a mess, and people were hurt. This wasn’t a win for them, this was another loss and all because of The Brotherhood. This was everything that they wanted to happen, their plan had been perfectly executed ‘till the very end. This only made Prism and a faraway Charles Xavier’s blood boil. While the two were unaware of the other individual, they both came to the same conclusion.

The Brotherhood and Magneto needed to be stopped before he succeeded in his end goal.

. . .

Good afternoon everyone, Admin Kashia here! First of all, I apologize for posting this a week late. I won’t use any excuses, I’ll just drop my apology and promise to do better as an admin when it comes to posting plot drops and my other admin duties. Next, I want to properly introduce The Brotherhood! As you all know, the organization is led  by Erik Lensherr also known as Magneto. Erik is a NPC that will be played by one of the admins. Other NPCs include Charles Xavier, Nathaniel Essex, and Han-Byul Song ( the Omega leader ). More information about having a thread with a NPC will be posted later on, including the account for said characters.

For those who were included in the plot drop and were at the riot, I’m leaving it to all of you to decide if your muse was injured ( INJURE THEM!!! ) and if so, how injured they are. You are more than welcome to have threads that happened during the riot, days, or weeks after it. Again, I apologize for giving this to all of you so late. The New York Times not only put out newspaper articles about The Brotherhood message but also the riot AND you can find both on their website. Absolutely bonkers.

As for The Brotherhood, we have a tier system. Following the team dynamic that Team Galactic has in Pokemon, it’ll go leader, executives ( 2 ), top agents ( 4 ), and ordinary members/grunts ( unlimited ). As of now, The Brotherhood looks like this: Erik Leshner ( leader ) - > Irena Westwood and Elizabeth Duke ( executives ), - > Jovana Ventura Garcia and Daichi Kato ( 2/4 of our top agents ). If you’re a current member with a Brotherhood muse and want them to be a top agent, please message the main. It’ll be on a first come, first serve basis. HOWEVER! For your muse to be a top agent, they would have to be a part of the organization for over three years and either an alpha or omega when it comes to their abilities. Ordinary members/grunts can be anyone. In The Brotherhood channel, feel free to ask more questions and see the chart that I’ll have written out and pinned for everyone to see.

I’m almost done, I promise! Just want to show the locations in New York that support The Brotherhood and those who are against The Brotherhood.

Supports The Brotherhood:

Club Nyx ( upper levels are used for meetings mostly for higher ups. This is The Brotherhood’s main hideout though it’s not public knowledge. You have to know a guy who knows a guy who knows a turtle who knows a guy to be aware of this )

Daichi’s home ( Valtoria )

Do, Rei, & Mimi

Against The Brotherhood:

Koala and Ko.

Give N’ Take

The Clinic

The Mykonos Grande

Valtoria ( minus Daichi’s home )

The Xavier Institute

The Omegas Compound

The Essex Home

That’s all! Thank you for reading all of this, if you have any questions, please do reach out to the main.

[chromosome23hq]

sometime in november, 1997, the xavier institute.

It was one thing after another, catastrophe after catastrophe, and his students and staff were always the ones getting damaged because of it. From the assassination of the mayor to the riots and then Halloween—someone from his institute was always a witness at these events and, because of it, was emotionally affected by it. That was the tipping point for Charles Xavier to finally do something. Despite many of his staff members asking him when he would intervene, he never did, always waiting for the right moment. But with the provocation from his old friend Magneto and then the reappearance of the mysterious Nathaniel Essex, he had to step in and move his pieces on the board.

Days were spent alone, Charles staying within his office, the wheels in his brain-twisting and turning to figure out the best possible route that would lead him to success. He ignored his staff members who knocked on his door, students who tried to check up on him. He needed to be alone. His plan had to be absolutely perfect if it meant a better future between mutants and non-mutants, he couldn’t just pick any route. Perfection was a must and the same for the route that left them with a minimum amount of chaos.

On the seventh day of his isolation, he left his office, announcing a staff meeting with all of his employees. All professors, TAs, and office members were brought into a meeting room. There, Charles revealed to everyone his plan. “I’ve decided to reveal the true identity of Xavier to everyone,” Charles said, smiling softly at his allies. “I believe that it is time for us to make ourselves known as well.”

It came as a surprise for those who have been with Charles for so long. He always told everyone that he wanted to keep the institute a secret, never wanting to expose the organization’s true purpose and refusing to listen to any suggestions until now.

What changed your mind? Are you sure you want to do this? Is this truly the best-case scenario? What about the students?

Of course, he already considered all of these things. It was why he stayed locked away in his office for so long. To make sure that he was fully prepared for all of this and that he wasn’t making a mistake. “I’m sure,” Charles replied. “I understand if you’re all wary of this decision but I do want you to trust me. I have thought over this very carefully. I’m not the type to just do something without taking into consideration the pros and cons of a situation.”

He was confident that they all could see. And while they were worried about what was to come, Charles remained calm the entire time. He waited for the staff to settle down and fully collect themselves. And they did; after their side talking and inner monologues ended, all focus was back on him. While wary of this idea, they all trusted Charles Xavier. He was a man who had good intentions; he strived for a better future for all mutants and non-mutants. They all did. Whatever plan he had in mind, they would back no matter what.

“I thank you all for trusting me,” he said with a slight nod. “Now, allow me to explain everything to you all. This is a plan that I cannot complete on my own, I will need all of your help.”

And they sat there, listening to Charles’ plan, none of them moving from their spots unless it was absolutely necessary. Questions were asked, suggestions were given, and thoughts of “maybe this will work out” raced in each individuals’ mind. Each staff member left the room a little lighter than before by the end of the meeting. After months of getting hit by other organizations, they finally took a stand.

Charles, just like his employees, felt lighter as well. Sharing his plan allowed him to relax a bit; Charles was also proud of himself for finally doing something. But that moment of pride didn’t last long because he knew that the move he was making would lead him and his institute down a road of hardships.

december 3rd, 1997, 10:00 am, the xavier institute.

Reporters from various news outlets stood huddled together, with cameras, microphones, and notepads out. Waiting for the man of the hour to appear and speak to them. It was dropped that the owner of The Xavier Institute had something to share with the public. The tip sent many of them flying out of their offices, quickly heading to the institution ( and to stop for coffee if they had the time ). Even as they shivered and sneezed because of the December winds, none of them left from their spots.

The older man was one of the richest men in the city, possibly globally. He wasn’t the type to stand before the public and really make himself known, so the fact that he had something to say had all of them sitting at the edge of their seats. This was important, and they had to be the ones to capture this moment perfectly.

At precisely ten in the morning, the institute’s gates opened, properly revealing the school in the far back but most importantly Charles. Two professors were with him, faces that weren’t as important to the reporters. They were focusing on the man of the hour. He didn’t have the chance to say anything as their questions were being thrown his way.

“Mr. Xavier, we were told that you had something to say—”

“Sir, how do you feel about the recent events that have taken place in the city?”

“Is it true that your admission rate is below one percent?”

“What type of students are attending your institution?”

“Were you close with the late mayor?”

Each question bounced off each other, none of them listening to what the other had to say. They were too focused and worried about Charles Xavier. And throughout it, he remained calm and smiled gently at all of them. A professor got the crowd to settle down, giving the floor to Charles.

“I thank all of you for coming here on such a cold morning,” he said. “Hopefully you haven’t been standing out here for too long.” He laughed; some of them followed suit, others just wanted him to talk. “I, for one, cannot stay out here for too long. I’m no longer as young as before, I’m more sensitive to the cold than before. I blame the old age.”

More laughs, genuine ones this time. “With that in mind, I won’t keep us out here for long. So please, listen closely to what I have to say.” And they were like flies to a light, easing closer towards him, microphones ready and cameras trying to capture the man. “For years, everyone has known of The Xavier Institute has only accepted the best of the best. Everyone is aware of our acceptance rate; we’ve even had some enter our grounds in an attempt to learn more about our students.

“But each individual would leave with little to no information for their investigations. The staff and students refuse to share anything with those outside of our school grounds,” he said. “Until now. I have decided that there’s no need to keep our institute a secret from the world, not with the current events.”

Confusion was seen across their faces, the questions ready to spring out but were all kept at bay. “The Xavier Institute is not just the home for gifted young adults, it is also a safe haven and educational facility for mutants.”

Chaos erupted. Eyes went wide, microphones were shoved forward, reporters turned to their cameramen to speak to the cameras, questions were thrown in Charles’ direction. Mutants, a complete shock for everyone! To think that an institution like Xavier was the home for mutants!

“Just like non-mutants, mutants deserve a proper education and a place to call home. I’ve opened and turned my family’s mansion into that place for them,” he continued, not at all fazed by the chaos that was in front of him. “As a mutant for myself, I wanted to be there for my people. And I will continue to do that, even after the day I die.”

It was one thing after another, Charles Xavier, a mutant! Wheels spinning in the crowd’s heads, the stories for the next day were writing themselves.

“Why are you coming forward with this information now?”

“Are you against or in support of The Brotherhood?”

“Is your institute similar to that of the Essex House?”

“What are your thoughts on the mutant and non-mutant relations?”

“I am coming forward because of the message left behind by The Brotherhood. Here at my institute, we are openly against the organization. We want to live in a world where we can co-exist with non-mutants, a world where we all can live and work together,” Charles answered. 

“Mutants, non-mutants, it doesn’t necessarily matter because we’re all humans. No matter what we look like or if we have powers, we’re all humans who live on this planet, are we not?”

More questions were asked about The Brotherhood, a few on the Essex House, but the two professors were already stepping forward. The meeting was over now, they weren’t accepting any more questions, and it was time for the reporters to leave. Charles bid them all farewell, leaving first. The reporters were stubborn and thrived on new information being presented before them. They wanted, no, they needed more.

This was the perfect scoop! The Brotherhood vs. The Xavier Institute. Some were already considering writing about the Essex House and The Xavier Institute, asking why Charles avoided questions dealing with the two. Others were already plotting on writing about the students and the acceptance rate. No matter the story, it was going to be known by the entire city, no, the whole world that The Xavier Institute was home to mutants.

In the last month of 1997 and so much was already happening. What a time to be alive. 

december 12th, 1997, the omega compound and outside city hall.

Charles Xavier’s plan did not stop after the exposure of his institute. While believing that both he and those who attended and worked at his institute could handle whatever mutant-related drama happening in New York City, he also understood the reality that was before them. This wasn’t something he could tackle on his own, not with both The Brotherhood and Essex House roaming the streets of New York City. To make the world a safer place for his students and other mutants, he needed to form an alliance with someone whose beliefs aligned with his own.

Which brought him to Omegas Compound, sitting across from Han-Byul Song. The Omega wasn’t surprised by the meeting; he knew it would happen sooner than later. They spent hours on that wintery morning discussing the pros and cons of creating an alliance with each other. Charles informed Han-Byul that he was forming an alliance with the Omegas, not the government; Han-Byul told Charles that aligning with the Omegas meant aligning with the government. Hours spent going back and forth, of two very prideful individuals refusing to let up before finally, they came to an agreement.

They were to work together to protect their city while also finding ways to stop both The Brotherhood and Essex House. They had loved ones who they wanted to protect, so the two set aside their pride and stubbornness to make their alliance official.

A press conference was held on December 12th, with Han Byul and Charles side-by-side speaking of their alliance. Reporters were shouting their questions, cameras were trying to get better angles of the two, and those watching live from elsewhere were leaning forward in their seats. The Omegas and The Xavier Institute were working together to achieve a better and peaceful world between mutants and non-mutants. Before any more questions could be asked, it was Charles who continued. A gala, he said, was to be hosted by both the Omegas and The Xavier Institute on December 31st leading up to the new year. Open to all with free admission, all that was asked was that everyone showed up in their best attire and with a mask. A masquerade ball. This was a way for mutants and non-mutants to come together and welcome the new year.

More information about the location and RVSP was to be shared later. Like weeks ago, outside of his institute, Charles was leaving, Han-Byul following behind him in frustration.

Articles were released about the alliance, news stations spoke about it, they even talked about the gala. Many were excited; others were wary. What if another mutant incident happened? Then the Omegas and The Xavier would handle it; that was what everyone said and thought. For many non-mutants, this meant more mutants who could protect them. The mutants were divided between those who appreciated the two organizations coming together and those who hated both organizations. 

But no need to worry, Charles already thought of this. It was all going according to his plan. He just needed to wait and see it play out like how he wanted it to. 

december 31st, 1997, 9:00 pm, the xavier institute.

You’re immediately welcomed by two men wearing full-on black tuxedos and black masks to match. They stand at the doors, backs straight and smiles on their faces. “Welcome!” They say in unison as they bow at a 45-degree angle. “We have been expecting you. Please, step inside and enjoy the party.” And in perfect unison, as if they’re robots, the two open the doors, the once muffled music now filling your eardrums and the extravagant ballroom sparkling before you.

You’re met with the most magical sight of a winter wonderland, almost like a fairytale storybook.

Floors made of white marble that shined and sparkled like snow, perfectly clean and without a single smudge. Maybe magical mice are running about with rags, quickly cleaning behind everyone as they walk. Hanging from the ceiling are chandeliers of all sizes, mimicking the image of icicles hanging above them. Fake trees in various corners of the hall, free of leaves and wrapped in white Christmas lights. Tables with eight chairs were set up all over, carefully placed plates, utensils, beautifully folded napkins, and champagne chutes. At the center of the tables were either fake candles or fake mini trees, both arrangements giving those who sat there a bit more light.

Cleared of any tables and decorations is a space reserved for dancing. A few guests are already out on the floor, dancing with their partners as the DJ plays classical music. There are the little things you notice too: the fluff of fake snow on the ground, the wait staff in all white, which offers you a drink, the food tables that hold various entrees and desserts from Du Ciel. White macaroons, white and light blue cupcakes, chute glasses filled to the brim with alcohol—it’s a paradise.

So like everyone else, you quickly take to the swing of things and enjoy the night. While others prepare for the ball drop, you’ll stay inside where it’s warm and fill your stomach with alcohol and delicious delicacies. Bye-bye 1997 and hello 1998!

OOC INFORMATION

PLOT DROP DETAILS: The Xavier Institute’s true identity has been revealed! Please know that Charles outed himself as a mutant but did not out his students’ and staff members’ specific identities. From December 3rd to December 15th, there will be reporters just waiting outside the gates for someone to interview. For the time being, Charles asked that all students and staff members take a secret passage from the school to the city in order to avoid the reporters.

EVENT DETAILS: The event takes place on DECEMBER 31ST, 1997, from 9 PM EST TO MIDNIGHT IC but officially begins at MIDNIGHT PHT ON DECEMBER 22ND until JANUARY 12TH, 2022, 11:59 PHT OOC.

While this event is being hosted by the Omegas and The Xavier Institute, it’s open to the public! However, we understand that some muses probably wouldn’t attend, so we’re allowing muns to choose ONE MUSE who would NOT attend the event. This is important for the admin team, so please send us the muse’s name by DECEMBER 21ST.

This is a MANDATORY event, and we ask that all previous threads be DROPPED COMPLETELY by DECEMBER 22ND. We want everyone to start fresh with new replies with the new year starting.

Posting muse outfits aren’t mandatory, but HIGHLY ENCOURAGED! Tag your muses’ fits with #C23NYE and post it on our MUSE UPDATES CHANNEL so we can all see! You can also use this tag to show other tidbits, like whether they’re bringing a date, what their plans for the evening are, and so on.

The event is family-friendly, so if your muse has kids and can’t get a babysitter, bring your child along! Hot chocolate will be given to children who can drink it with lots and lots of sweets.

At midnight, snow will fall from the ceiling to add to the winter wonderland aesthetic. More will happen at midnight (IC), and another post from the admins will be dropped, so please look forward to that.

CLICK HERE FOR THE PLAYLIST THAT WILL BE PLAYED DURING THE EVENT! These are all songs from 1997 that are being played during the event. There’s no order because I’m too lazy to rearrange it right now.

CLICK HERE FOR OUR PINTEREST INSPIRATION BOARD FOR THE EVENT!

Lastly, if you have any questions, please reach out to the main ♡

[chromosome23hq]

trigger warning: blood, death, minor violence

“It’s that time we’ve all been waiting for! Who’s going to be 1997’s Halloween Costume winner? Is everyone ready? Let the countdown begin!”

5

Once upon a time... 

4

In a magical land called New York City...

3

There lived a girl named Rebecca. 

2

She was kind, too kind for her own good. She believed in the best of everyone, despite how often she was shown how untrue that was. When her powers developed, all she wanted was to help. It’s why, when her friend was crying over a ball stuck in a tree, she focused her mind and lifted it out and on the ground. Her friend was amazed. Her friend also couldn’t keep their mouth shut. 

That was when poor little Rebecca’s troubles began. 

Her parents couldn’t handle a daughter like Rebecca. They feared her every move. One glance could send them jumping back, as if she aimed a knife to their throats. There were no more bedtime stories, hugs, or ‘I love yous’ for Rebecca. No, it was replaced with glares, silence, and her name being spoken like poison. 

Rebecca. Rebecca. Rebecca. 

Finally, they had enough. One day they were there, and the next they were gone. Rebecca was all alone. The state, unaware of what they had on their hands, put her in the nearest foster home. She faced the same coldness, the same rejection, but this time no one knew what she was. 

Until, of course, she ripped that boy’s fingers clean off. All she had wanted was her necklace back, a gift from when her parents still loved her. She wanted to be treated the way she treated other people. The boy didn’t care, lost in his own trauma, acting out for attention that wouldn’t come. Rebecca simply couldn’t reach his grip with her hands. 

So, she used her mind instead. 

But she had no control over her powers, or what direction the chain would go. Have you ever heard the sound of chains cutting through bone? It was such a quick noise in Rebecca’s case, yet it’d ring in her ears for days later. As would that boy’s screams. 

Charles Xavier would take her in within the month. There, at Xavier’s, her troubles seemed to come to a stop. She even used a different name for awhile, after all the baggage with the one she’d used since birth. 

She was to be called Rosie. 

Rosie would grow up well at Xavier’s, thrived even. She’d become a beloved history teacher, and be one of Charles’ most loyal supporters. If she was ever to be absent or off campus, she would notify him and the rest of the staff.

That was why it was odd when no one saw her the day before Halloween. There were no classes, but she was usually around still. She used the week up to the holiday to dress up in frilly costumes from that she adored. Yet, no trace of her was found from her classroom to her bedroom. 

Panic came steadily and quietly.

Rosie. Poor Rosie. 

Someone had asked for her help in a costume store a day before she went missing. Rosie, like a fool, helped without thinking about why she couldn’t see the strangers’ face or why an employee wasn’t asked instead. Instead, she turned her back to them. 

The crack of her skull would be muffled under the crowd of people doing last minute shopping. Her body would seem like a prop in a sea of monsters displayed around. 

That was when poor little Rosie’s troubles ended. 

But so began the troubles of everyone else. 

1

“Congratulations to our winners, Milo and Laurel! Milo and Laurel decided to rock the night as Thomas Edison and the Edison Bulb, which lit up our worlds! And you will never believe what you two are winning! Let’s bring out--”

0A creak was all the warning anyone got as a bucket from above tipped over. Blood spilled out all over the two contest winners, covering every inch of them. A severed head toppled in front of them to lay at their feet, so both Xavier students could see they were drenched in the blood of their beloved history teacher. 

It took a moment for a reaction to occur. Most people thought it was a joke, a prank based on Carrie to scare everyone. It was Halloween after all. No one could tell how lifelike the head was, down to parts of the bone still protruding and the start of decomposition on Rosie’s face. Only Milo and Laurel knew that. 

It was why their screams were first. They were how people discovered how very wrong their assumptions were. That moment of hesitation, of belief everything was alright, was all that was needed for phase two of the plan. 

Masked, cloaked figures appeared in the crowd out of nowhere, and began to slice and stab the person nearest to them. It didn’t matter who you were. All they wanted was blood. 

Oh, and they would get it. 

Screeches were all anyone heard, as people either froze in fear or ran to escape the escalating madness. It didn’t matter. No one would be unscathed, whether it be by knife or their own mind, or, as the person behind all this hoped, both. 

As quickly as the figures materialized, they were gone again. The wreckage they left was permanent. Blood dripped, people cried in pain, and the metal bucket finally crashed to the stage below. 

This will mark the end of this year’s Halloween Street Fair. 

Too bad, right? I was just starting to have fun.

....

Hello all, it’s Admin Tibby again. Here’s when things really start getting good.

You are now allowed to start doing threads in response to the murder of Rebecca, but you can keep going with your ones from earlier in the night if you so desire. Reminder that the event is running until November 12th, after which no more threads taking place on Halloween can begin. You can continue whatever you’ve started until they’re finished, but no more can be started.

As for who’s behind the murder of Rebecca and the attacks in the crowd? Well, all roads lead to Nathaniel Essex. And that’s all I’ll say for now. As for the stabbings that happened, you’re all more than welcome to say if your muse was stabbed during it ( you can decide how minor or severe it was too )! We realized that we never asked the members if it was okay for their muses to get hurt so we decided against coming up with our own list. However, muses who entered the Halloween contest CANNOT be victims of the stabbing. 

But, if your muse is the violent type...who’s to say they can’t participate in the carnage?

Happy Halloween, everyone.

NOTES FROM THE ADMIN TEAM : : We apologize for causing anyone’s anxiety to rise due to the appearance of Rebecca / Rosie in the discord. We wanted to do something creepy for the holiday season and and amidst our own excitement, we forgot to think about the mental health of our members. We once again apologize for this and will do better in the future to keep in mind what is best for our members. Thank you all again and have an amazing day. - Admin Kashia

[chromosome23hq]

september 30, 1997.

Though the weeks have come and gone since the untimely death of Mayor Peter Webber, it hasn't stopped the people of New York from speculating.

"A mutant did it. Haven't you seen the autopsy?" "Who would wanna kill the mayor?" "Did he know something?" "I heard it was a set-up to make the Omegas look bad."

As the shock waned, scrutiny and heated conversations followed. The spotlight shone brightly on the Omegas—yes, they've apologized, and yes, they've explained themselves, and yes, they've promised to do better.

But is that really enough?

According to the researchers, analysts, and marketers hired to keep the Omegas highly favored, not quite. Hours spent in the compound were dedicated to strategizing their next course of action: they have to do something to solidify their goodwill and place in the public's good graces.

Two weeks following Peter Webber's assassination and the statement released by the Omegas, New York's superhero team had embarked on a series of reclamation activities. Spanning from simple civilian duties to aiding the New York Fire Department and New York Police Department in several high-stakes rescue cases, the Omegas had toiled to prove to the public that they're heroes for a reason.

Once again, the public began to talk, this time about the achievements the Omegas were ticking off. Whether they were successful with their goals is yet to be determined, and before the general consensus can come to a conclusion of whether they can trust the Omegas again—

october 1, 1997, 7:12 am

—someone's on the morning news.

Nathaniel Essex.

The elusive founder of the Essex Corporation, and the Essex House, has made a television appearance. No, not on live television because this man has never been seen in public before, and perhaps he never will be. Instead, it's an announcement from him, intending to address the controversy plaguing his home for mutants and say a thing or two about the current climate of mutant relations.

"Good morning. My name is Nathaniel Essex; I am the founder of the Essex Corporation, however you might be more familiar with my most recent development, the Essex House. In light of recent news regarding the assassination of Mayor Peter Webber, as well as the introduction of the Omegas in the country, it was in the best interest of my company and its constituents to let my voice be heard in this national conversation of mutant strife."

"I have always believed that humans and mutants are capable of co-existing in harmony. However, the caveat to this idea is: are we truly ready for such a thing?"

"I have dedicated my life working in the field of mutant history and biology, and I, along with my team of illustrious scientists, have come to a conclusion that although we may be able to see a world where humans and mutants can thrive together—we simply do not know enough about their species to let them run free in the world."

"Our world, as we know it, is delicate. Now, as much as I champion the freedom of mutants, I strongly believe that we must put our own progress first so that the integration of mutants into our society will be a far less strenuous process. That is why I developed the Essex House: to create a home for mutants, where they can live freely and without fear. It is a place where they can learn about their abilities, hone them, and eventually use them for good once they are a part of the world."

"With every bold and new goal, there are and will always be outliers. You may have heard of an unfortunate incident that occurred within the Essex House, where a group of delinquent mutants has escaped, causing the several deaths of innocent lives in the process. It deeply saddens me to say that there are some mutants who aren't interested in our shared goal of peaceful co-existence. This group of mutants chose violence as opposed to working towards the big, bright picture. These mutants are dangerous."

"But all hope is not lost. We at the Essex House are working tirelessly to raise and educate a generation of mutants that we will all be proud to say are our colleagues and friends."

"I only ask for your patience as I am the sole bastion of this dream, and the other avenues to which mutants have been attempted to be promoted as celebrities may actually do more harm than good in hindsight. Great things take time, and in an era of peace, we must work our hardest to maintain it."

"Farewell, and have a good day."

[chromosome23hq]

august 11th, 1997, 6:05 am, silverhouse apartments

One fine morning, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a watering can in the other, Billie Foster was not prepared for the crack of a gun to kick her into a vision. A crowd. A masked figure. Mayor Peter Webber, now with a hole in his forehead. So many lives altered in one fell swoop that the crowd overwhelmed her. A small stampede had Billie stumbling back into her apartment. Coffee in her monstera and water soaking her feet. She didn't get a chance to see anymore details, only a masked figure and an untimely death.

It’s not something Billie can just ignore, especially when it comes to the death of a public figure, much less the mayor. She needed to tell someone, an officer of some sort who can protect the mayor from anything. It’s when she remembers them, the Omegas. It’s a part of their job description to protect the weak and innocent, which includes the mayor. A heavy and deep sigh leaves between her lips. This is not how she wanted to start her morning. 

august 14th, 1997, 11:45 am, somewhere in the city

This has to be the most boring protection assignment in the world. For the past few days, all Yazmín Navarro Montes’ (also known as Siren) done is escort Mayor Peter Weber everywhere to defend him against an assassination threat. He still has his bodyguards, but extra cushion with Yazmín here, as Prism described it. Of course, it’s unspoken that this also works as great publicity. She had wanted nothing to do with it, which meant Prism had to pick her for this. Her luck always worked that way. Today, she’s starting to wonder if this threat was real at all, or a phony stunt to benefit the mayor and the Omegas. There’s been no suspicious figures lingering around his office or home, no attempts, and no threats sent to him. 

Still, Yazmín doesn’t slack on her job. She always has an eye out, ready to push the mayor out of the way or stop a would-be killer. They’re outside for a few minutes when something starts to bother her. There’s water everywhere she can sense, then suddenly there’s a spike. It’s nowhere near winter, but something freezing just entered the vicinity. No one stands out in the crowd, until—

Already running behind schedule after sleeping in late, Ethan Sato pays no heed to his surroundings as he cuts past a gentleman on his journey to class. He’s cursing himself internally, vowing for the umpteenth time to start going to bed earlier, when his internal monologue is drowned out by a wave of terror. Ethan stops in his tracks, his heartbeat thundering, panic squeezing down on his chest. Breathe, he needs to breathe. He takes in one, shuddering breath, knowing that this—whatever this is—isn’t his, then turns around and he sees—

“Oh, my God.” He claps his hand over his mouth. Behind Ethan is the Mayor, haloed by his own blood as he lays on the footpath. It takes Ethan a solid minute to process what he sees, what he feels, before he scrambles backwards, yelling, “Help! Somebody help!”

As soon as his co-worker had walked in, Jaewon Oh had scampered off for his break. An entire hour away from inane questions was exactly what he needed. Deciding to take a stroll to his favorite nearby coffee shop was done automatically, he ate there almost everyday. Unfortunately for him, his hour was coming to an end and so he made his way back with an extra sandwich in his hand. 

He was contemplating whether or not he could get away with leaving the store early when he saw it. Or, rather, them. A person in a mask appeared seemingly out of nowhere and Jaewon, curious, watched as they walked ahead of him with purpose. something about this didn’t feel right, he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Should he do something? No, yes? He was just about to shake off the feeling, not wanting to get involved in business that wasn’t his own, when he saw a man ahead of him go down. It took him a moment to register that it was the mayor and said mayor had just been shot. The masked figure was running and Jaewon watched, frozen to his spot, as they did so. On the sidewalk ahead of him the mayor lay dying, the particles of energy around him turning a meek gray as the life left him. 

Jaewon took several steps back and pressed himself against a storefront, brows furrowed. it couldn’t have been a normal bullet, a gun going off was loud. this had been too quiet. suspicion rose in him, humans could quiet a gun, sure, but not to that extent. could … could it have been a mutant? Jaewon looked back at the scene that was now filled with people, all as terrified as they were shocked, and wondered. It certainly seemed like a possibility. shit, he’d just witnessed the mayor getting shot, the mayor being killed. Soon enough police sirens would echo down the street and detectives would go looking for bystanders. Not wanting to be questioned, he quickly walked in the opposite direction and stewed in his own theories.

Sitting on the stairs of a building that had been ‘under construction’ for five years now (he’d been keeping track of time—the crew seemed to have abandoned it), David Castillo withdrew his flask and took a swig, eyeing the passersby—trying to find who best to focus on. Woman with the dog thinking about how the groomers screwed her poodle’s nail polish up completely? (he didn’t agree, they looked marvelous)—she walked by too fast. Man with the shirt that read ‘D.A.R.E - to keep kids off drugs’ and was already thinking about that sweet weed he would score later? Also too fast. 

That was the only problem with a staircase in the middle of an ‘under construction’ type of place!

Voices swirling around, from those thinking about their affairs to those thinking about their loyal spouses, he shook his head viciously. 

And then a strong voice emerged. 

Strong emotion.

Strong passion.

Strong thought.

‘Got ‘em.’

Followed by screams—real ones.

And a silence. Even amongst the screams... a silence.

It’s too late. 

There’s barely any noise between the mayor standing in front of Yazmin, and dropping to the ground. Blood is everywhere. Some of it’s even on her suit, her hands. She had bent down to hold the wound without thinking, before realizing it’s all too late. 

There’s people running away in the crowd, and that’s how she knows the shooter isn’t far ahead. She’s running before the bodyguards do, head going through anyway she could to slow them down. Every option can lead to civilian injuries or worse. Shit! Yaz speeds up, water rising from her side pouch and striking out toward the assailant’s ankle as they round the corner. It misses by an inch. 

As she enters the alley, she sends a dozen sharp edged droplets at the wall with a yell for them to stop. But no one’s there. The only evidence that remains is a spray painted symbol.

august 17th, 1997, 5:34 pm, ramer cemetery 

Peter Webber is found dead on sight. Upon inspection, they’re unable to find a bullet but water is found. Because of Yazmín’s ability and past criminal record, the suspicion falls onto her. Banks and schools are closed early that day, and remain that way until the funeral. National news channels cover it nearly twenty-four seven, wondering how the mayor of one of the most prominent cities in America was shot in broad daylight and by who. All channels in New York cut into their current programming to broadcast the funeral, from the funeral home to the drive to the cemetery. Crowds line the streets during the procession to show their love for the beloved mayor, as well as grieve his loss and the loss it is to the city. His children and wife thank those for being there with them through this difficult time. The vice mayor, who was sworn in days before, tells the city they’ll get through this together and follow the vision Mayor Peter Webber had.

august 18th, 1997, 9:30 am, new york city hall

This isn’t the first time that Han-Byul Song (also known as Prism) stands surrounded by cameras, microphones, and journalists waiting for what he has to say. But he can say that it’s the first time dealing with them like this. Individuals who once looked at him as if he was like them, now they see him as something else. It doesn’t sit right with him, none of this sits right with him. However, he’s a professional and never the type to let someone see him when he’s at his lowest. With a straightened back and squared shoulders, Han-Byul begins his statement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the city, my name is Prism and as you all know, I’m the current leader of the Omegas. We are tasked with protecting the lives of the innocent, both mutants and non-mutants. Recently, we were given the mission to watch over and protect Mayor Peter Webber, sending one of our own to act as one of his bodyguards.” His eyes fall on Yazmín, the young mutant standing beside him with a cold stare and a rigid body. “Despite our best efforts to protect the mayor, we—” Failed. The words fall from his tongue but it doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying it. He can see the questions that are ready to leap out of their mouths, the hunger in their eyes, beasts. They were all beasts. “However, this doesn’t mean that our mission ends here. We’re now undergoing an investigation to look for and capture the person behind this. Once we find this individual, we’ll bring justice to all of you but also Mayor Webber.” 

There are questions, lots of them, and he answers, some of them. There isn’t enough or maybe that’s what he tries to tell himself as Yazmín takes his place to read over her apology. He’s listening but also not, he’s mainly just watching her and the crowd. Even though she was there acting as a bodyguard, she’s a suspect. Just because of her ability, just because she’s a mutant, just because they needed a scapegoat. 

OOC INFORMATION:

Mayor Peter Webber died on August 14th, 1997 and his funeral was held on the 17th. Various radio talk shows and news articles report on his death. Your muse can react however they want to this! 

The masked killer is Daichi Kato (played by Admin Kashia). No muse is aware of him killing the mayor, outside of Magneto. Yazmín is under the suspicion of partaking. 

This marks the true beginning of The Brotherhood showing themselves to everyone, which also means they’re recruiting people in. Your muse has the decision to join them but be aware of the true purpose of The Brotherhood! The spots are unlimited. 

If you play a Xavier student or staff member, things will be tense as Charles plans on what to do next.

And that’s the way the pussy crumbles.

[chromosome23hq]

august 1, 1997.

it's another good morning at the xavier institute, with some of the students waking up a little earlier to catch the morning news with their teachers in the kitchen. the smell of coffee, bacon, and waffles wafts through the room, and dulcet tones litter the kitchen before they're hushed when they hear the click of the television turn on.

“top story this morning: mayor peter webster's office has been vandalized by assailants known as the brotherhood. […] all offices are destroyed, leaving no trace for identification apart from the entrance being tagged with the attackers' namesake. […] the motive behind the attack is unclear; however, an investigation has been launched to identify the members of the brotherhood and its leader […] more on this at seven.”

the younger students watch the news unravel in shock while the teachers look at each other warily, knowing this is something professor xavier needs to hear about, and hopefully, act on.

elsewhere, all citizens of new york who're tuned in their televisions and radios hear the news, and the notion that mutants are behind this attack begins to permeate the city. debates inevitably arise, but one thing is for sure:

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠.

[chromosome23hq]

I know the timeline is on your list of things to update, so you don't have to go into a lot of detail. But is there anything major that's happened lately that new members should know about?

hello there! the best way to see what happened so far is to check out our c23plotdrop tag on the main. our plot drop has in full detail of what happened but for a quick recap, check out down below!

The creation of the Omegas back in July 1997

Essex announcement made by Nathanial Essex in September

A counter announcement made by The Brotherhood where they made themselves public in September

The Halloween event where a staff member from Xavier was murdered and some other stuff happened ( tw for death and blood )

Charles Xavier revealed himself to the city ( i.e. exposing the fact that he is a mutant and that his institution houses mutants )

Xavier and the Omegas form an alliance and throw a NYE gala together

And that's what you missed on Glee!