Rooms

[Thought at Preston R]
Checking in again.

[Locked to Bucky B]
Bucky, please check in with me.

[Comm: Avengers+ (sans infected)/locked to Rocket & Alison V (separately)]
ETA: [Rocket is added to the comms following this.]

Crane is dead. We have his body in custody for lab work. (Do not answer any questions from anyone regarding him. As far as they're concerned, for the moment, we know nothing.) His girlfriend, however, Becky L, is still at large. [Steve sends everyone the visuals provided by Eddie.]

We need to find her fast. Alison V, a woman assisting us, is going to reach out to her, as they've talked before. If you see Becky L, let me know.

On top of that, we need to figure out how to get those infected among us to Stark Tower. Dr. Banner is close on the cure. Rocket is going to be our transport. He's been patched in to comms. Let him know where he's needed, and he'll pick you and whoever you have up and take you to the Tower.

Updates on various pursuits?

[Locked to Charles X]
Sir, I was wondering if I could ask for your assistance.

[Locked to Eddie N + Dick G + Jason T + Bruce W]
Crane is dead. Killed, we think, by Selina, who's now in Stark Tower. We're getting people on finding Becky L, the man's girlfriend, ASAP. Dr. Banner is close with the cure.

[The usual dump of articles, news, CDC updates included.]

[Later comm: Sharon C]
[Quietly.] Sharon?

[Locked to self]
Carol -- ST
James -- no update -- ST
Selina -- en route to ST
Wanda -- pursued by P. X -- no update
Sam -- no update -- ST
Peter -- AWOL -- pursued by Drew
Jack -- AWOL
Gwen -- sedated -- ST
Sharon -- sedated -- ST
Pepper -- sedated -- ST
Bucky -- AWOL
Mary Jane -- AWOL ST
Billy -- AWOL (w/ Wanda)
Loki

[Stark Tower, a beacon of the future, an icon, a facet of the New York skyline that made it onto the foreign-made t-shirts, mugs, and magnets sold everywhere; big and ugly. It was lit up now in a dizzying fairy-blue, the building's self-sustaining electrical grid saving it and its occupants from the blackout that blotted out the majority of the borough surrounding it, all inky black on nothingness. The sign blared the name 'STARK' for miles and drew to it, like Death's-heads to the frizzing fry of a bulb, the few lost souls who still ranged over the carcass of New York City. Most infected were now in cots, masses on mats made mostly of salvaged cardboard, laid out on gym floors, scattered like a wide constellation throughout the various "quarantine" zones, in cycling states of lucidity and unconsciousness as the infection swelled their brains like blood in a blister, until, finally, they didn't wake up again.

But the City was all the quieter for it. People were infected or they were dead. The dead lay in gutters, though men and women in white came out by the hour to drag them, stack them, and carry them away in trucks; they lay in a splotch of skull or severed limb, faces gone or eyes gouged, victims of inexplicable violence. The world stank of them, stank to high heaven.

Steve was, in that way, grateful for the filter and buffer of suit that cleaved him from the bloody wasteland around them. It was alien, the distance. The man was used to the sights of war, the tactile impact, mud in boots, blood from burst lip—inside the suit, it was easy to separate. It was easy to feel alone, an island of black and blue, star on chest, this way, and Steve wondered, distractedly, about Tony. Did he feel this way? No. Screens were natural to him. It was different. To Steve they were still miraculous expressions. One day he should try drawing on one.

He waited at the foot of the building, a pinprick shadow against the glow of blue. However small he was, inside, cradled and soothed by an artificial voice, outside, no one would be able to tell the difference. His shield was secured to shoulder blades in slotted magnets retrofitted for him. He'd let Dr. Banner know he was here, and Alison was coming—in the black Hummer, she said (what did that look like? (Let me pull one up on the screen for you, sir.))—with Selina, with Crane's body.

And, oh, he was tired. The suit made him look big, but Steve was himself—his old self. He had to sleep. He hadn't felt this exhausted in literally decades. It was as if it went down to his bones and radiated outward in an ache. His calf muscle cramped and he bent to smack a metal hand against blue alloy.]

[Locked to Bruce W.]

She's here now.

[Locked to Eddie N.]

Did Bruce update you?

[Locked to Becky L.]

Remember me?

[Locked to Seven]

How are you? How's Liam?

[ETA: Text to Steve R.]
[After this.]

Have you got a Jo Harvelle at the Tower?

[Justice League+ incl. Eddie.]

Mini Dinah (Dini?, Sara) is willing to take shifts. Any objections?

[Jess was tired. Everyone was tired. Her heart fell with each one of her allies started to get sick, and soon it was just a handful of them left. With the agents and doctors, but if this wasn't stopped soon, it would keep going. She couldn't remember anything quite like this, and she had been through a great deal of terrible things. She'd take the damn aliens. Carol was safe back at the Tower, thank god for that, but Jess didn't know where Peter was and that took second priority. Spiders stuck together. Also she knew he was the type to think he could handle it and still help people. Typical.

It was slow going because she still had to stop and help people, direct them to the right locations, try to stop more deaths from happening. She was starting to run on fumes at this point, but people responded well to a superhero suit, even when out of their minds. Finally she thought she managed to track him down to the outskirts of Central Park. Jess really hoped she wouldn't have to go too far into it; bad memories at the moment.]

Peter? [She tried the comm a few times, just in case he was answering, and dropped from the air onto the ground. It was smarter to stay in the air, but harder for him to see and recognize.] Spider-Man, Webhead, Spider sidekick extraordinaire, come out before I start screaming.

Who: Liam Roberts
What: Narrative after being dropped off at one of the quarantine centers
Where: One of the quarantine centers in the city
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: Some dark imagery.

( She was sitting there in the room with him. )

[Bruce knew this was a bad idea. He knew; he just didn't care.

Selina was dying. He could live in denial, he could tell himself pretty lies over and over, but neither would change the truth. Steve said the cure would be found in time but how did he know? It had already been too long. Days and days, and she didn't have any dances left. How could he stay in Gotham? How? He'd left her to die once before. No, twice. During the plague, when the only thing that saved her was an abomination: the Pit. During Watchtower, when he'd gambled with her life and won through sheer chance. He couldn't do it a third time. He couldn't do it again. All the reasons why he should stay out of the Marvel door paled in comparison to the alternative. If she died and he wasn't there, if he never had a chance to say the things he should have... maybe she was right, maybe he'd gone soft in his old age, but he couldn't fathom such a possibility. He couldn't do it. Maybe, somewhere along the line, Luke had rubbed off on him, too. Or maybe it was days and days of worrying, of minimal sleep, and now Crane was dead and she was dying and he couldn't stay here. He had to go. Consequences be damned, and he didn't tell anyone. They would try to talk him out of it, he knew, and he couldn't let himself be swayed. If he didn't think about it, didn't think about getting sick or being stuck or Ra's finding out he was gone, then he could do it, and he'd deal with the repercussions later.

And if Steve was right, if it was almost over, what would it matter? Selina needed him. Gotham could wait a day or two. He'd put the city first so many times, who could fault him one tiny moment of selfishness?

The door was guarded. Yes, he'd ensured that. He didn't know whose shift it was. He didn't care. Clark or Diana or Hal, even Eddie, he'd get past them somehow. Bruce refused to let himself be stopped. He wore a modified version of the Batsuit, less bulk, full cowl pulled back; it was a modified sort of gas mask, built in, and maybe it wouldn't help but maybe it would. Precautions, see? Bruce hadn't entirely lost his mind.

As he approached, he saw it was Eddie who stood between him and Selina. He regretted that it was him, and he didn't want to hurt his friend. He didn't. But he needed to get into Marvel and he had no time to make the other man understand. A few feet between them, and he stopped.]

Eddie. I need to get in.

[Locked to the DC Door.]

I know there's a lot going on in another door here, but if you need a hand with anything, let me know. My resources are at your disposal.

[As Pamela I]

The greenhouse is looking a little sparse after my absence.

Please don't tell me there's people with sticky fingers wandering around.

he's in the room i can see him in the room and he's making it hot!

[Bucky B]
Where are you?

Who: Steve R and Saint R
What: Doing a solid for a friend + hallucinatory fun
Where: Bronx check-point
When: Now-ish

( He'd forgotten a number of things, turned out pockets and a leather wallet, much creased, safety-pinned to his shoulder where it felt like a weight - a medal perhaps, or an anchor. He'd forgotten his name, but it didn't worry him much )

[fuzzy timelines are fuzzy - guys we're in the middle of plot plz to be bearing with me. timelines are mostly so fuzzy]

[Erik Lehnsherr - Brain chat]

[Directly after this]

Erik?

[Preston R - Brain chat (sorry bro)]

[After this]

Preston? It's Charles - just me this time.

[Jack C - Brain chat attempt v1]

[Also after this]

Jack? It's Charles Xavier. I'm here to help you.

Who: Wren Henry, Luke Henry, Jack Corvus, and Evangeline Sablier
Where: Somewhere in le city - but first Westchester
What: Charlie's Angels go on a rescue mission
When: Right about now

( Who run the world? Girls! )

[locked to wren h.]

[During this, from elsewhere in the Mansion.]

Jack didn't stay at the Tower. He's out there, and he's sick.

[Locked to Evie S]
[During this.]

Meet us out front, Evie. We're going to look for Jack. He's not okay.

[Locked to Loki]

Did you find him, brother?

Locked against Adrian I


[As Sydney I]
What are the best ways to deal with nightmares?