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[ February 25, 2008 • 9:10pm] |
Living in the city, Jamie didn't own a car. It didn't make sense, comparing the price of parking and insurance in Mutant Town with the simple two dollar price of a Metro Card. It was cheaper, not to mention faster, just to use the subway which crisscrossed the city. He could drive, but he only occasionally did. On days like this when he rented a car from a dealership just on the border of the Bronx and chose to drive straight up to Connecticut from there. It was a two and half hour drive, but he didn't mind it for days when he just couldn't take the train. He'd plug in his iPod and tap his hands on the steering wheel for two hours along in time with the music.
It was around noon when Jamie pulled into the driveway of the Brotherhood Mansion for the second time in four days. He'd stayed the weekend, left on Sunday, and now Monday afternoon he was back again. He'd done a bit of work that morning for the business, but it had been a slow week and it didn't look to be getting any more exciting. His time was better off spent in Connecticut. He hated the state as a rule, but the mood at the mansion was relatively cheery, given their win the week before.
Jamie hadn't been a part of it, but he celebrated anyway. The mood was relatively addictive and he'd succumbed. He closed the door of the Acura SUV he'd rented and walked further up the driveway so that he could enter through the back door. People didn't really need to see him, or anyone other than Erik for that matter, coming through the front.
"Hello," he called out in a normal voice, mostly speaking to himself as he walked through the door. He dropped his messenger bag with his laptop on the kitchen table and made a beeline for the refrigerator, hoping that this time he wouldn't run into something that was broken in the course of making his sandwich.
[Open to the BH]
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| Homecoming (Scott) |
[ February 25, 2008 • 1:06pm] |
With a thoughtful finger on her lip, she scanned the newspaper stand from left to right for what would already be the fourth time. The vendor, who had a mustardful hotdog sandwich breakfast left hanging, already had his hand on his waist while waiting for his customer to continue the sentence that she began with, 'I'll take........' and the ellipsis had gone on forever.
"You could take all of them y'know," The vendor suggested, tilting his head up to meet his customer's super model-esque height. Model or not, he was starving and needed his food, "Or you can make up your mind."
"The Times," Ororo Munroe decided and smiled apologetically with a please-don't-be-mean-at-me-mister-i-have-not-any-sleep-look, "I'll just settle with that." She took out her purse and looked for some change, "I've been gone for a while. I wanted to see what I've missed."
"You want back issues? Lemme check yesterday's..." He turned his back.
"Oh no thank you," Ororo shook her bandana-wrapped head and placed some coins on the counter, "I would if I have the time. But I'm going to need a plenty of it to catch up on my work..."
In the bus, she started reading. Ororo skipped the national headlines, they weren't the reasons why she purchased the paper. It was in the Metro section where she found what she was looking for: an article covering the protest on Cromwell High School. Then, she folded the paper back as she yawned and leaned back. She was starving and she didn't think she could spend any more time preparing food back in the mansion or waiting for someone else to do it. A take-out was in order.
So upon her arrival in the mansion, she had a large shoulder bag, a wheeled luggage and a take-out paper bag. She was sort of hoping there was a 'Welcome Back Leader' entourage at the front but she supposed she was expecting too much. It seemed more logical to snub her after missing out in the protest and a month long of work.
After baggages were left in her room, Ororo proceeded to doing something about her hunger problem. On her way, she was already reflecting about the mansion's current mood. She was not an empath, but still her powers had something to do with emotional states. There was that certain gloomy air that was weighing everyone down, kind of like the feeling of a rainy day Monday, a kid forced to be left behind in an exciting zoo trip because he was sick, and so on. This feeling was more prominent in the kitchen and Ororo realized why.
"That is a naaasty limp," She said by the doorway.
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[ February 24, 2008 • 4:01am] |
MSNBC will broadcast the latest multi-partied Presidential debate between Democratic candidates Sen. Barack Obama (IL.) and Sen. Hillary Clinton (NY), Republican candidates Sen. John McCain (AZ), Mike Huckabee, Sen. Graydon Creed (MD) next Tuesday, live from Cleveland State University in Ohio. The debate is the last between the candidates before the crucial primaries on March 4th in Ohio, Texas, Rhode Island, and Vermont.
Brian Williams, NBC Nightly News anchor, will moderate the debate alongside Washington Bureau Chief and moderator of Meet the Press, Tim Russert.
NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams and Hardball with Chris Mathews will broadcast live from Cleveland State on both Monday and Tuesday. Immediately after the debate Mathews will anchor post-debate coverage from 10:30 to midnight.
With issues of plagiarism now behind the Democratic candidates, officials for both report that the failing economy, the War in Iraq, and health care will be topics of discussion. Sen. Creed is likely to bring up the subject of Mutant Rights, an issue many consider to be the backbone of his campaign. Sen. Obama, Sen. Clinton, and Sen. McCain have not yet taken a definitive stance on the topic of Mutant American Rights.
The debate is hosted by NBC News in partnership with WKYC, Cleveland State University, the city of Cleveland, and the Ohio Democratic and Republican Parties.
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[ February 23, 2008 • 11:12am] |
"You'll have to excuse my language, but your team got their asses handed them wrapped up a neat little packages. That wolf of yours is wearing a gift tag and it's signed 'Erik Lensherr and Friends'. The area around the school is destroyed because that girl has no sense of control, Hank was on that mission for God knows what reason, you've got your team leader's girlfriend sending him out of battle, and you've got – oh, hell, forget it. Who's bright idea was it to go out on a mission with a leader who couldn't speak and no co-captain to translate?" Emma Frost was fuming ever so slightly, though one might not have known it if they hadn't looking at the cup of tea in her hands and seen that it had turned completely to ice.
To his credit, Charles Xavier did notice the frozen liquid and offered her the teapot that sat on the desk between them. "Calm down, Emma. You make a valid point, but given the situation we had little choice but to act. We underestimated Erik and from what I can tell the winged girl wasn't accounted for. But I wouldn't advise bringing up anyone else's lack of control while you have a block of ice sitting in your hands."
"Don't start with me, Charles." Emma proceeded to freeze the teapot as well, this time purposely. "What happened out there? If you're not prepared for a girl with wings and blades then hell, I guess we're lucky the fucking elephant wonder twins didn't show up to the party."
"I worry less about the elephants than I do the one with wings," he said simply, steapling his hands atop his desk. "I admit, the mission wasn't at all our best. There were several things we should have done differently, including having Ororo or Warren there to assist, but the core of the mission was successful even if we did incur injuries. The protesters were kept safe, along with the school's students."
"That's the other thing." With Emma there was always something else. "Saving FOH protesters, Charles? What the hell are we doing playing bodyguard for the Friends of Humanity? They hate us, in case you'd forgotten."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Yet they seemed to value our protection when it came down to it, or hadn't you noticed? We help those in need, especially when they're being threatened by other mutants."
"Especially when they're being threatened by Erik's mutants," she muttered, brushing blonde hair back from her face. She was officially in a mood. Pink lips turned into a deep frown as she pushed back away from Charles' desk and stood from the ornate wooden chair where she'd been sitting. "It's not like when I was here anymore."
"No, you're very right," Charles answered, his voice even as he looked up and met her eyes. "The level of team camaraderie has improved since the school moved to Salem."
There was a moment of silence as Emma digested the fact that she'd just been trounced by her former teacher. She would never ever be accused of being the most approachable person in the world – she'd always been rather prickly and hard to get along with – but it wasn't something Emma herself was ever going to admit and while she didn't care that the students at Salem routinely called her a hardass and a bitch, she didn't like being called out on by her peers or elders.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling a piece of folder computer paper out of her purse and dropping it down onto Charles' desk. "Here's the list." It was all she'd really come for in the first place, to deliver the list of students from Salem who'd either shown potential or interest for becoming an X-Man. Staying for tea and a chat had simply been an extra time waster and obviously horrible idea. "I'm going to have a workout and then I'm going back."
Xavier simply nodded. "Have a safe trip, and please try to leave my team in one piece."
Emma gave a short acidic laugh as she turned and exited the professor's office. Looking rather annoyed, she walked out into the foyer and immediately made for the stairs which led down into the subbasement. She didn't stop to see if Jean or Hank were in their offices to say hello or make pleasant chatter, instead making straight for the elevator which led down to the lowest level. She practically punched the buttons permanently into the keypad as she typed in the code to allow her access to the elevator and all but stalked over to the uniform closets once the elevator doors opened to reveal them.
It only occurred to her as she was pulling on the leather that she wanted to fight someone real, and not just the obstacles the Danger Room would put in front of her. She was extremely well trained in hand to hand combat and sometimes beating a person to a pulp was simply a better outlet for her aggression than freezing them. It was too late now to go back upstairs and demand that someone fight her. She would just have to hope someone was already practicing.
[open to all mansion types]
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| business as usual...as usual as can be |
[ February 23, 2008 • 1:18pm] |
Kevin had no qualms about being a mutant. Well, when he was but a kid, of course he did. But after everything his powers had shown him, he'd grown to love being mutant and got to understand how natural being one was.
But if there was one thing he hated for being super...it was the fact that mutants recognized no holidays.
Or at least society did not give them special holidays. Even after that strenous protest activity, Kevin had to haul himself off his bed and force himself to work. After midday now, he was sitting on a red-cushioned bench just in front of a door that was left ajar. Voices seeped from the inside of the office.
Wincing on his seat, he arched his back and grunted. his arms up; it still felt pretty bad after he'd collided with the brick wall and not to mention, his shoulder was rather sore. Thank God it was winter and it wasn't stupid to wear narrow collars.
Footsteps started towards the door, Judas the Secretary appeared from the inside, "Mr. Ford?"
Promptly, Kevin dropped his arms and sat up straight (and oh, did that ache some). He looked up to the redhead, smiled quickly then stood up when he gestured for him to come inside the office. He slid the manila envelope off the bench as he did this and with a slight jog, he started towards the door, preparing a good mood.
[ Open to: Jubilee ]
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| disabled complexes |
[ February 23, 2008 • 9:00am] |
He was careful to make sure the silence of the kitchen wasn't broken as he set his white cup down on the table top, smoke wafting from the warm content of it as he sighed and leaned on his good hand whose good elbow was on the mahogany. In one word, Shiro sulked. Despite Jean's good efforts, his tummy still hurt if he wasn't too careful with the way he moved and worse, his left arm was in a sling because of a bloody bad thumb.
So much for thinking he could catch a bone like a baseball...
The nth sigh escaped from Shiro's lips as he was reminded of his latest match and he scratched his head then moved his fingers towards his notebook's trackpad; e-mails and YouTube were the in-thing today. The news, one he had been so fond to read whenever he started his day, was not. Fresh from the mission (if you could even call it one), he considered it a bad memory and wanted nothing more than to forget about it and just move on. Because of that, the idea of skipping work did not really settle nicely with him since it meant skipping a mundane life which did not have a Shiro who was also known as Kamuro who went into battle and lost to a bloody boy.
A bloody boy.
But Jean was keen to make sure he didn't go to work.
That had done nothing but make Shiro feel the general suck of losing gnawing on his skin. How was that possible? Last he knew, he was in check with his danger room sessions (and ate well and slept well...or close-to-well) but to lose to his half-cousin? Who was most possibly a decade younger than him? He despised the idea that he was getting on his years, thirty-three isn't a very old age.
...but who lost to a boy like that?
And what did he do wrong? He'd used his powers the way he knew how to use them best, hadn't he? How did that not work at all?
His head fell on the table with a low thud, right arm still stretched towards his notebook. If anything, skipping work for the day had only made him decide that in a few week's time and as soon as he's all better, he is going to treat the danger room like it was his lover.
[ Open to: Anyone within the X-Mansion ]
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| Savior (Brian) |
[ February 21, 2008 • 8:27pm] |
He'd called.
Just as she'd seen the note on the fridge about the meeting they were going to have, he'd called. Betsy had known that the meeting was going to be about the protest Jamie had spoken of, and that it was important, but she couldn't ignore the call.
Brian was her brother, and Brian was the most important thing in her life. He was rungs above everything else on the ladder of important.
He hadn't sound panicked, but he'd asked her to come get him. She couldn't be sure if he needed help, or just a ride, but it didn't really matter in the end. If she was needed, she was going to be there.
Betsy could only hope that Erik wouldn't hold this too much against her. She'd find a way to make it up to him somehow.
The drive to Boston was made longer by the fact that Betsy had no idea if her brother was in trouble. Their phone call had been extremely short, and it had gotten cut off by bad reception at the end. He might have tried to tell her something, but she just hadn't heard it. If both hands hadn't been clutched onto the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white, she might have chewed her nails all the way to get him.
( OOC )
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| a trip to the vet is just like the doctors. except with more fur. [scott/alex/jean] |
[ February 21, 2008 • 12:17pm] |
Medland Veterinary Hospital was a good fifteen minute drive from 1407 Greymalkin lane. They weren't particularly cheap, either, but they were a vet hospital, so they were open all night seven days a week, and when your boyfriend was stuck in wolf form with a possible broken leg, Jean didn't really have any choice but to pop him in the back of the SUV and drive him on down.
Of course, Scott was a little heavy in wolf form, and when he was in pain and injured, he tended to be a little more grumpy than he normally was. So Jean took along company to help. Alex was stronger than she was while she had to look like her normal self, and unfortunately when the vet hospital had a fairly extensive file on your dog because of his habit of getting into trouble, you had to be a little consistent in what you looked like when you turned up for the examination.
Jean pulled up into the parking lot trying to find a space as close as possible to the front door. Scott had been stubborn before they'd left, insisting on walking around on his broken leg instead of sucking up his pride and letting himself be carried. But Jean was going to have none of that while they were here in public. If they were at the vet, he had to act like a dog. A well behaved dog who was in pain because they thought he got hit by a car. So he would be carried into the vet's office.
"Thanks for coming with me, Alex." She said unbuckling her seatbelt, looking over her shoulder pointedly at the trunk, where her fiance was hopefully lying down.
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| We Shall Not Be Moved. [open to Brotherhood and X-Men] |
[ February 18, 2008 • 10:22am] |
It was by nobody's standards an ideal day to hold a protest. The weather was overcast-- rain was definitely on the horizon, and while the streets had been closed by the local council in order to let the protest march peacefully and safely up the street, by standing in the middle of the road in a thunderstorm the marchers truly were trying their luck. None of the weather forecasts had predicted lightning, but every single one of those forecasters knew that the weather could turn on you as quickly as a wild animal, that trying to predict it was a fickle art, and while you could monitor trends, you could never be one hundred percent sure of what was to come.
It was the only legitimate form of fortune telling out there, but it would not take a climatologist or a psychic to predict that trouble was looming on the horizon today.
The protest was walking down Waterbury St towards Cromwell High School. The roads were cleared ahead of the march, and leading the pack was one of the higher members of the Friends of Humanity, a society dedicated to the continued preservation of human superiority. Their aim was not, as their signs preaching Safe Schools declared, to keep society safe, but to keep society pure of the unpredictable, the unknown, the new.
Half a block in front of the protest, a man rose slowly up through the bitumen. He was dressed very nicely in a suit and tie, with his black leather shoes polished enough for them to shine. Erik had always had a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps it was because his home life was so terribly unassuming, and the nature of his powers was made more for stealth and secrecy than for theatrics, but whenever he had the attention of a crowd he certainly came into himself. The protest slowed down to a stop, moving no closer towards the terrorist.
"Surely you would have learnt by now." He said loudly, projecting his voice in a very theatrical manner. He would've been at home reading the bard. "Cromwell High School have made the right decision. I suggest you disperse now, while you're still well enough to take your children to school tomorrow morning, or you can stay and suffer the consequences."
For several seconds, the march stayed immobile, as his message was murmured and carried down through the crowd so everyone could hear what he had said. But they were not the kind who idly accepted and yielded to threats, even when it would've been the sensible course of action. Instead, they slowly began to march towards Erik once more.
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