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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

#c23plotdrop #death mention tw #abuse mention tw #body image tw #cannibalism tw #BITCHES WE DID IT #shoutout to tin for the graphics #welcome to my chaos arc!#now let me make some damn starters bc a bitch is READY

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