the department of mutant affairs

To: [Agents]
From: [Cooper, Val]
Subject: FWD: bollocks

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To: Forge
From: Freakshow
Re: Follow Up

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To: [Forge]
From: [Freakshow]
Re: School Inspector

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Okay. This would be fine.

He liked Allerdyce. Blaire seemed alright, too. They could work together, not a problem.

Their aptitude tests were both excellent. As was his, all those many moons ago. Yet again, proof that they could work well as a team. Even better.

Their skillsets covered a wide range of abilities, that allowed them to (theoretically) cope with any number of situations.

The mission was fairly straightforward, and it had allowed him to come up with some nifty little breathing masks that did away with the need for hazmat suits, despite what Allerdyce wanted. That had been a pleasant little half-hour, working those out, actually.

So, yeah. All in all, the job looked good. He stubbed his cigarette out on his metal ankle, then got down off the hood of his car, lifted his briefcase and went to join the rest of his team, holding out two of the breathing masks for them to take. "C'mon, kids, I got new toys and all sorts of fun things to do. I hope neither of you are squeamish, and wear these at all times. Try not to throw up in them, they're bastards to clean."

This was going to be fun!

St. John needed to beat the shit out of something. The people who kidnapped the student were as good as any.

And there was this nagging in the back of his mind that these people had something to do with his missing ten years. When Jean Grey and Emma Frost were doing their mind voodoo (or whatever it was they did), there had been a flash in John's mind of those missing ten years. But as soon as they were seen, they were gone, like a dream you remember having but can't articulate a single detail.

And that was his life. Fucking hell. It was no wonder John had had no interest in celebrating his birthday this year. It wasn't because he forgot--how could John forget something that revolved around him? But he was already old enough that he didn't need to add another year.

He was in the foyer, pacing anxiously. All he needed was a lighter, and the word 'Go' from Forge to feel better, and he already had the former. He didn't even care that he was working for the government right now. It's not like he had any other options.

(ooc: set while the troops are gathering)

To anyone driving by, the plain looked normal enough. A flat stretch of Virginia, tucked out of the way of the highways and the major cities. Just a plot of land.

But underneath was a lab rushing with activity.

( It was times like this when Mimic wished he could duplicate himself still. )

He pulled up in front of the school and sat there for a moment to work out if he'd actually just heard what he'd just heard. He'd stopped at the closed gates and leaned out of the car window to talk into the intercom system. He told them who he was, who he was with, blah blah yadda yadda the usual, and then. Whoa. Then, whoever was on the other end? They'd replied with words that made no sense in today's context. "An it please thee, sir, do makest thine way towards our most humble abode where, forasmuch as thou art our honored guest, we will do our utmost to ensure that thine sojourn here is most en-" and then he'd interrupted whoever was talking, because really, who the hell spoke like that? Well, outside of those Ren-faire things that he'd heard about.

Where the hell had Val sent him?

He decided that the only way to find out was to head up there and knock on the door and actually talk to the people. He grabbed his badge, made sure the safety was on on his gun and then checked that he looked okay. First impressions and all that, after all. He got out of the car once he'd cleaned his glasses, straightened his suit and then lifted his briefcase from the backseat. He didn't worry about locking the car since he'd already done some minor tinkering on it since he picked it up last week. It wouldn't open for anyone who wasn't registered as a DMA agent, and as for starting it? Anyone who wasn't him wouldn't be able to start it, unless he was in the car.

He crossed the carpark and made his way up the steps to the front door, before knocking sharply on the door. Three times. Then he waited.