the department of mutant affairs

Tabby looked around her new surroundings and sighed. It wasn't a horrible room, not by any stretch of the imagination, however she missed her small apartment back in Pennsylvania. True, if she had refused Mystique's help (which, let's face it, would've been impossible and would only have lead in being forced to 'help'), she'd likely be in a jail cell right now, but still. It had been hers, her new start, her new home, for a number of years now. While she hadn't had a dream house on her hands, everything in that place had been hers. Or mostly; some things were still not quite paid for, along with some other massive debts, which had lead to her robbing the bank, but details, details.

Like it or not, this was her home now for the foreseeable future. She sat on the bed and glanced around. The bed itself was comfortable enough, which was a plus. The walls were pretty bare, but she could work on that, provided she was allowed to actually go out and shop and whatnot. Oh, and if they paid her or provided her with an allowance or a salary of some sort. There were still a lot of questions running through her mind that needed to be answered, it was still all a big blur to her. Tabby sighed at that, not wanting to think about all of the things that needed to be addressed at that moment, or how to find anyone to do that for her, and just laid back on her bed, looking at the ceiling.

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!

To: [Allerdyce, John], [Blaire, Alison], [Pryde, Katherine]
From: [Cooper, Val]
Subject: security

( You have one new message )

Pyro felt like he was undergoing evaluation for weeks.

He technically was, but most of that was downtime, getting to know the office, paperwork. Pyro almost wished he was dead, just so he didn't have to fill out paperwork. Paperwork for missing former criminal immigrants was disastrous. But open offer, Val clearly meant if you could survive the tedium.

By the time he met with Siryn for the powers evaluation, he didn't care anymore. Normally he'd show off, flirt, play. Try to find a chain to jerk her around with. But between conversations with Marie-Ange and the restlessness of not having anything to do, muscle memory, and a smidgen of rage, kicked in.

When it was done, Siryn nodded to the charred corners of the room with approval.

"Pyro's right, all right. I'll..." She looked back at the black marks on the wall. "Right, let's finish up that paperwork."

As much as St. John loved his new flamethrowers, he missed being able to click his lighter with impatience.

To: [Academy Faculty/Staff List], [Brotherhood Contacts], [DMA Agents]
From: [Cooper, Val]
Subj: success

( You have one new message )

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. )

People should have suspected something was unusual from the fact that St. John Allerdyce had been relatively quiet for the past while. He hadn't even burnt anything down, despite occasionally being tempted to do just that. He still wasn't happy about being at the school.

However, there was one good reason to remain here, and Marie-Ange had said she wanted to meet. St. John could never keep a lady waiting. It just would have been rude. There were a ton of other trite lines on the tip of his tongue about defending her honor and pledging his eternal loyalty to her, vowing to solve the mystery of the Academy if it was the very last thing he did. Thankfully, he kept those comments to himself for now.

John had always had a flare for the dramatic. But something in his head was just making it worse.

Knocking on her door, he stepped back and folded his hands behind his back. "Lady? Be you decent?"

It just wouldn't do to visit her at an inopportune moment.

St. John did not want to go back to the Academy.

Mystique had caught him up as much as she could. Breaking and entering (without, you know, signs of breaking), blah blah, new management, blah blah, working with the government (he had had to ask her to repeat that). He didn't like any of it. He wasn't going to say anything, but he had gone missing there. Going within twenty feet caused a severe psychosomatic problem: he wanted to throw up and run away.

Admitting that was not going to get him points with Mystique, though.

He had to get over it. The investigation started yesterday, but John hadn't been able to do it, then. Today, he was trying it again. Today, he made it all the way to the front yard. There, he promptly pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He needed something to calm the nerves.

There was nothing more calming than the repetitive opening and closing of his lighter.

St. John Allerdyce was not having a good day.

He had been knocked out in a Brotherhood brawl one minute, and then next he was on a plane. 10 years later, a wallet full of cash, and a ticket to Sydney. This was not on.

He used his considerable charm, but mostly the wallet full of cash, to change his flight during the layover in Hawaii. He was on stand-by for a flight to DC.

( That flight left him a lot of time to read all the latest papers. )