Turn of the Tide, { plot

[Charles Xavier]

“O*N*E property in the Nevada desert went up in flames during the early hours... Millions of dollars worth of government technology reduced to dust... Upwards of fifty personnel missing, feared dead...”

Long fingers interlocked carefully at the knuckles and pressed against thin lips; a loose clasp that belied their owner’s current mental disquietude. Elbows braced upon the polished surface of fine oak and piercing slivers of cerulean peered steadily at some specific spot in the mid-distance, close to one of the towering bookshelves that lined the study’s walls. Like an echo of unvarying and undiminished clarity, television report that Xavier had witnessed mere hours ago unfurled itself before the full spectrum of his mind’s eye; pictures of cracked, arid land and towering obelisks of blackened smoke that billowed into an otherwise cloudless sky. The voice of the reporter herself, smooth and assured even as near-negligible bewilderment flashed across her squinted stare to camera, detailed the damage done to Office of National Emergency’s most valuable investments, save the pair that had been stationed in the mansion’s grounds up until very recently, and the ongoing investigation into what was believed to be a ‘massive electrical malfunction’. Digits parted slowly, tips pressed one against the other, and the long-carved lines across the venerable man’s forehead deepened by just a fraction. So far as the telepath knew, even technological short-circuits on grand scales did not kill over fifty unsuspecting individuals at the same time without some form of helping hand. Judging by the urgent phone call he had received from O*N*E’s deputy director herself, he was hardly alone in that particular sentiment.

Wheels of a private vehicle rolled to a halt just outside reinforced gates and heels crunched briskly across pristinely laid gravel; with the subtle touch of cognitive prowess, Charles followed Valerie Cooper’s movements, turning his perception to witness the institute from the perspective of keen, blue opticals – the manicured hands that pushed open heavy front doors and the confident pace of a woman who knew she was expected. Only when the expeditious blonde was a few steps away from the entrance to his office did Xavier relinquish that fleeting mental grip; strong legs pushed his immaculately dressed frame to a standing position and by the time knuckles tapped promptly against the closed portal, steady strides had already taken him halfway towards it, past Ororo, Scott, Kurt, Logan and Emma Frost; five of his most senior X-Men who had been assembled not long after the initial call came. “Come in,” deep tones muttered, and Valerie made her immediate presence known; narrowed cerulean flicking to take in the headmaster’s office and all those within it, before fixing on the man himself from behind the lenses of thin-rimmed glasses. “Miss Cooper, a pleasure,” the bald telepath continued, extending a hand for the woman to shake while directing her towards an empty nearby chair with the other. “I take it the current situation must be keeping you and your colleagues busy.”

“Professor,” she greeted in kind, taking Charles’ hand in her own grip and politely declining the offered seat, offering a short nod to the others. “I apologise for appearing on your doorstep at such late notice, but I’m sure you can appreciate just how urgent this is, so I’ll cut to the chase.” Stepping smoothly past Xavier and pausing only for breath, Valerie laid a thin stack of files she had been clutching upon his desk before turning to face the group once more, arms laced across her stomach. “Contrary to what’s being plastered across every television news channel in the country, we have reason to believe that the Brotherhood may have been involved in the Nevada explosion, the destruction of the Sentinels, and the loss of good men and women. My intention for coming here is to enlist your help in tracking them down, possibly bringing them in for questioning. There is no doubt in my mind or those of my colleagues that this was no mere accident but rather a carefully orchestrated terrorist operation, and as we’re all well aware, Mystique and her crew can hardly claim to be the government’s bosom buddies.” One slender brow arched towards the woman’s hairline, icy opticals resting on all of those gathered. Given the X-Men’s previous track record with the Brotherhood, such a request would hardly be treading unusual ground.

(ISO: Storm, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Cyclops and Emma Frost. All other X-Men are welcome to join this thread once Valerie leaves.)

[Wolverine]

.cf » The Unraveling

The feral mutant hadn’t been sleeping well nowadays. Granted, Logan had hardly ever slept great. Even when the nightmares didn’t plague him, vivid, egregious remembrances rising before minds eye like something undead and forcing him to relive things he’d rather not think about, the rugged man was still a light sleeper. Possessing hearing so acute, even the smallest of noises could awake him: a creak on the stairs, voices in the corridor; even the quietest knock at his door seemed like an earthquake when delivered at the wrong time of day or night. Springtime and early summer were the worst, though, because that was when the grounds' assemblage of songbirds all woke up at the same time, all at some ungodly hour; each trying to out do the others in the frenzy to find a mate, the birds warbled and screeched fit to drown out an explosion. The mansion's thick, weatherproof windows could do little to shut out the damn cacophony. Indeed, it took every shred of Wolverine's composure not to slice one of the skylarks to bits. Featherbrains. One would think they could at least wait until after seven to start their vernal orgy, but no. Damn things had absolutely no sense of self control. So the clawed mutant had fallen into a habit of waking before dawn these days; not intentionally, of course, it just sort of happened, and he was seriously contemplating investing in some good ear plugs. But this morning it wasn’t the featherheads’ bacchanalia that had him jumping out of bed with murder on mind, but the noise of thrusters and engines that sure as hell wasn’t Blackbird; instincts and old paranoia easily taking over as first assumption was that the Sentinels ceased their quiet watch and moved to more proactive approach.

Instead, the metal cans just took off, no annoying shadows cast across the gates and lush expanse of the gardens anymore, and it wasn’t until hours later that news broke about the assault on Office of National Emergency compound in Nevada. For all that the network reporters were prattling on and on about the electrical malfunction, Wolverine’s only response was a snort from where he was standing, leaning casually against one of the many bookcases that lined the walls of Chuck’s office. Yeah right, what idiot was honestly going to buy that story? No fancy government facility worth a small nation’s budget would lack in protection against whatever hazard imaginable, especially one that worked with weaponry of Sentinels’ capabilities. Something else was going on there, something was definitely fishy, and the feral needed not even be a paranoid nut distrustful of the government to see that. Couldn’t say he was surprised when the bald telepathist summoned them, or that Cooper would be waltzing into their home as if she owned the place. Perhaps the thing the rugged Canadian was least surprised about was hearing that Brotherhood might’ve blown the place to hell. Not that Logan actually objected to the destruction of those metallic behemoths, but even he considered killing of mere employers to be excessive. Taking out the weapons government would’ve undeniably used against the mutantkind next time some megalomaniac gets out of line was one thing; killing innocents was something entirely different. Not that anything else could’ve been expected from that bunch of bastards.

What did surprise him was the gall of this woman, utterances rolling off her forked tongue with such assurance and righteousness. Like hell. Deep scowl pulled dark brows together, carving lines of unconcealed annoyance into the man’s forehead, voice but a growl as Wolverine interjected. “Y’gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Y’had those precious robots of yours breathe down our necks for more than two months, protectin’ us, and now when things go south for ya, y’waltz in here askin’ for our help? Y’got some stones on ya.”

[Cyclops]

[CF:That ruby gaze]

It was rare that Scott Summers found himself agreeing with Logan. In fact apart from their taste in telepathic red-heads their views on everything were pretty much completely opposite. Yet when Logan threw back the fact that the giant robots had been "protecting" them largely by being a loaded gun for the government to wave about anytime they felt that the mutant community in general, or the X-Men in particular, crossed some imaginary line drawn in the sand, he could not help but agree. However he also knew that there were much more civil, and diplomatic ways of stating his disagrement.

"I think Miss Cooper Logan has a point," Scott said keeping his voice even, emotionless. He was not about to let the woman get him upset the way she clearly had Logan, "The X-Men are not the government's bosom buddies either. Though I assume that before we were to assist you, we would have some guarantees that this situation would change?"

There was nothing that Cyclops wanted more than a chance to go up against the Brotherhood again. He had missed the battle on Alcatraz Island and was anxious to make up for it. Besides the fact was that the actions of the Brotherhood were being used as justification for going after all mutants, if they could take the extremists off of the table then they could start a real honest dialouge with humanity and hopefully move forward. Or at the very least they could squeeze some concessions out of the government by proving that they could play nice when required.

"And of course we would need to see some proof that the Brotherhood was involved and that you're not just using a mechanical defect to point fingers at mutants once more," he said. The truth was he would neither put it past the government to engineer an incident to give them reason to go after the Brotherhood, as if they did not already have cause enough, and on the other hand he would not put it past the Brotherhood to blow something up and kill a bunch of people just for whatever twisted reason that Mystique had in her sick head. The woman was more dangerous, and far more twisted than Magneto had ever been.

This post has been edited by Cyclops on Jul 20 2009, 04:13 AM

[Storm]

.cf » Starlight, starbight

A poet might say that sun shined a little brighter and a little warmer when it peeked across the horizon that morning, as it always did after an interlude filled with disquietude and uncertainty; casting its golden, effulgent rays across the vast estate, and, for the first time in many months, no longer creating imposing shadows that served as a constant reminder that they were being silently observed, each action undoubtedly recorded, and that the anonymity that was until recently snuggly wrapped around their bodies like a comforting blanket was, indeed, ripped from their grasp rather callously. The looming Sentinels had simply taken to the skies, and while the rest of the school might have given a sigh of relief, Ororo Munroe remained contemplatively reserved towards the direction this whole affair had suddenly taken. After all, the Professor had been attempting to get those steel behemoths removed for over two months, assuring the Office of National Emergency that theirs safeguarding the mansion and its inhabitants in the wake of public outing was really not needed, but to no avail. The monstrous machines were so conveniently positioned just outside of the estate boundaries, upon the public property, and thus no crime was being committed and no one’s rights were being trampled over according to the dry definition of the law. Really, it was no different than assigning police vehicles to patrol the neighborhoods, they said. Ever a free spirit, the Windrider was genuinely delighted that they could once again move about without being constantly watched by the big brother, but it seemed rather peculiar the Sentinels would abandoned their post in wee hours. Perhaps something had occurred to require their intervention, though knowing those two machines had to be but a small part of O*N*E’s arsenal, it made one ponder about the scale of the event.

Another riot, perhaps even another terrorist act by the Brotherhood, though as she listened to Valerie Cooper disclose what had indeed happened in Nevada previous night, despite anything the news were reporting, Storm certainly had not expected an attack upon the Office of National Emergency compound itself. Completely destroyed, dozen of employees murdered… what exactly Mystique and her people have hoped to accomplish eluded her. The African goddess supposed she could understand the desire to eliminate weapons that could readily be used against the mutantkind, need to rebel and ensure survival being fundamentally human, but certainly taking out the machinery and rendering it completely useless could have been accomplished without loss of life; and certainly they must have realized this terrorist act would not bring mutants a step closer to the safer, better world, but rather lodge them in the very center of the conflict perpetuated by such extremist deeds. But the reasoning of a radical was not always easy to comprehend, and the atmokinetic would never condone their methods. Yet for Valerie Cooper to request the X-Men handle this matter after being virtually treated like birds in a cage for more than two months, while offering no proof that the Brotherhood was in fact responsible for the explosion in Nevada, just did not sit well with mistress of the elements. Seated on one of the leather armchairs, long, toned legs crossed at knee, hands folded comfortably upon her lap, the women listened calmly as others expressed their opinions first. Whereas the Wolverine had been predictably boorish, Cyclops maintained civility befitting of a position he held on the team, and the Kenyan native found herself agreeing with what they were both essentially saying.

“I share my colleagues’ reservations, Miss Cooper,” Ororo began, Afrocentric accent wrapping around each uttered syllable with ease. “While I would not put a terrorist act such as this past the Brotherhood, you have not provided us with any proof that would show they are, in fact, the ones responsible. If their actions have brought about the deaths of all those people, then yes, I wholly support them standing trial for their crimes. But given everything that has happened since the District X riot and even long before that, you cannot fault us for seeking indisputable confirmation.” Delicate brows arched ever so slightly, silken locks of alabaster spilling over her shoulder as the Windrider delicately titled her head for a degree, full lips pursing into small, contemplative pout before she added, ”Otherwise, what else are we to suppose but that O*N*E wishes to make the X-Men appear as their puppets in the eyes of the public.”

[Emma Frost]

CF: " Drink of the Bacchae"]

---

Unlike the gentlemen present Emma Frost had seen no need, yet, to speak toward Ms. Cooper as if she were some tired, old reprobate with nothing better to do than bully mutants. In fact, having been a fairly private figure throughout the entirety of her life, and one who was keen to keep her status as a mutant far from the eyes of the public, Emma rather understood why it was that the government regarded them as threats. She did not agree wholly with the sentiment of being called a weapon of sorts, but she knew very well why the government might think that monitoring mutants was of paramount importance. While Frost did want freedom and equality as much as the next X-man, she knew that there were plenty of mutants in the world who did not share that desire. Like Valerie Cooper and the Professor, Emma was even willing to wager that the damned Brotherhood had indeed been involved with the deaths of the people that Cooper spoke of and all the more fearful to say that the Brotherhood was capable of doing such a thing. Mutants were, after all, quite determined and able beings. The government could treat them all like average human beings, but it would be quite difficult to deal with each of them differently. Mutants were this un-introduced, foreign entity to the lot of the world and though Emma felt quite slighted by the rudeness that those of her condition left to deal with, she understood completely the human fear that came with those things that were mysterious and unknown. Frost knew that anyone without the protections that were granted to her kind by way of powers was right to fear for, as the implications between her telepathic abilities were enormous, and the strength that followed her in diamond as well.

However, Frost shared the reservations of her team. She thought that it had taken a fine lot of nerve for this woman to request their help after having held a proverbial gun to their heads for some time. In fact, were the others not so verbal Emma thought that she too would have said something. At the same time, of course, she unlike the others was taking some measure of pleasure in all of this. How beautifully ironic, she thought, that the very people who were in their own ways oppressing mutant kind were now begging the lot of them for help. The fools were now starting to place the cards into the hands of their mutant counterparts and though Frost was not a spiteful woman she felt that in some ways these people were getting what they deserved for the crimes that they had committed against her people. She did not believe that anyone deserved to die, so to speak, but she felt that something had to be done to put the bastards in their place and let the lot of them know that they had no right to dictate who existed where. To do such was to transform nature into an unfortunate bureaucracy, and being a woman of great knowledge, Frost happened to know that nature did not often take kindly to being twisted into the horrid imaginings of man, who was often times so ignorant of his own place in the world that he allowed his desires to fall forth rather than his wisdom. Either Valerie Cooper had swallowed her enormous pride and come to the X-men seeking their help, or she had truly believed that they owed her some kind of debt of gratitude and that their hands were tied. The X-men, in truth, could refuse to help the woman--but that would likely not occur.

It was quite annoying to hear everyone drone on about the same things, of course. Evidence or the lack thereof was so very droll. Frost rather craved solutions, not the malingering foolishness of feeble chat. Though it was necessary to assure that they had viable evidence against the foolish Brotherhood, was it beyond the X-men to simply seek such evidence themselves? At their disposal, the X-men had immense technology capable of locating any mutant and much more besides. All it would take was a momentary grazing over their minds, a tracing of their psychic pathways, Emma did bet, and they would know whether or not Mystique and her ilk had indeed been responsible for the unfortunate deaths of so many. Like her fellow senior X-men, Emma did not take kindly to the idea of being treated like a marionette by the government, and she did think it would be most unfortunate if mutants were further painted as the violent freaks of nature that they had been, but what choice did they have? Emma had no doubts that if the X-men did retract their favors then Cooper and the O*N*E would treat them in very much the same way that they had other mutants--a manner that was unkindly to say the very least, at least in Frost's eyes. The Contrarian in Emma wanted her to stand up for Valerie, however. Thank goodness for her logic, which only served to make her want to throttle the foolish government dog which had set before them.

After the boys had spoken, it had seemed that Ororo felt the need to speak. Emma had no thoughts about the woman's words, at least none which she felt needed to be expressed, and she did not in fact roll her eyes at the fact that the woman had essentially stated the same things as the other, while simultaneously seeming to express that she was in some way or another the dominant being at the present. Frost ran a flawlessly manicured set of fingers through her platinum tresses, the feathers of her blond hair following perfectly in suit therein, and she cut a look at Ms. Cooper, expressing her own thoughts on the matter expertly and wordlessly. ”Otherwise, what else are we to suppose but that O*N*E wishes to make the X-Men appear as their puppets in the eyes of the public,” Ororo expressed. Emma's brows rose at this comment. At times, even Emma found herself impressed by the sheer gall that the Kenyan native had. Emma herself had often preferred subtlety, so the woman's direct approach was refreshing, if not a tad gauche--god bless her soul. Emma only hoped that the woman's upfront nature would not spell her doom some day. Such a thing would have been most unfortunate, really. "Now, now, dear," Emma allowed herself to enter the conversation shortly after Ororo had concluded her communique, her voice deceptively genial and uplifting in spite of her true intentions. "You can't mean that you believe that this is all some clever and unrefined ruse, can you?" The words were first directed at Ororo, though Frost's sarcasm was intentionally made apparent. Furthermore, it was made apparent very shortly thereafter that Frost's acidic words were not being directed toward the weather witch, but instead at the other witch in their presence.

Her eyes fell back upon Ms. Cooper. Emma saw right through the woman, her eyes burning through all of the woman's self-deception and seeing her at her core; at least Frost felt this way. Perhaps she was being a tad more dramatic than was necessary, but who could blame her? It would have been a waste for Emma to be anything but. "I must say, Miss Cooper that I find your entire presentation to be sub-par at best. You cannot honestly believe that the X-men are going to do what you say just because you think that pant-suits and sensible roll-necks are fashionable," Frost herself disagreed with the idea of roll-necks of any kind--other than thermals, she found the idea of turtle-necks to be very dour. Also, Valerie Coopers presumptuous attitude had gotten upon Emma's nerves. It was rare that Frost allowed others to walk about her with a sense of self-entitlement, and Cooper was no exception. The urbane mutant gave herself a moment to pause and collect herself, briefly admiring the shine of the sun against her brilliant white sport-coat and skirt as well as her lovely pedicure. In her pause she reflected upon all that she had just said and all that was running through her thoughts at the particular moment. She had been impolite, she would admit, and though she was sorry for such a thing she was all the more sorry that the woman had been foolish enough to approach them all with such an ill informed...what would she have even called it? A poor communique. Emma hated rubbish and that was precisely what Cooper was giving them.

"Please, pardon my outburst. But what I mean to say is, despite this unfortunate Patriot Act nonsense I believe that there is such a thing as innocent until proven guilty. Would it not be perfectly reasonable to first investigate without knocking down the Brotherhood's door and demanding that they pay for crimes that they may or may not have committed? I understand how unfortunate these losses are, but I also understand that you're putting us in a dangerous place without much consideration for our group. As a woman of business, I cannot personally condone engaging in such a risky endeavor without first having some assurances," Emma's icy oculars narrowed to mere slits, her dark, long lashes almost obscuring the shimmering severity of her gaze; her countenance remained unchanged otherwise. "We X-men deal with trouble enough without having to put our necks out for people who would just as soon cut our throats as the very dogs they are setting us against. How are we to know that this isn't some tired scheme to place the X-men and Brotherhood in one place so that you and your filthy machines can blow us all to smithereens? I've seen what those monstrous automatons can do. They're horrifying, quite frankly, as is being kept in this gilded cage you've made for us. Really, Cooper, I believe that the only help you need is that of the psychological manner if you truly believe that we'll act without further information. I at least speak for myself, and my feelings will not change until you've further informed us. Am I understood?"

This post has been edited by Emma Frost on Jul 25 2009, 11:11 PM

[Kurt Wagner]

((CF: Late Night Murmurs With Devils.))

---

The room that awaited the arrival of the visitor was tense, each occupant weighing his or her reaction and feelings toward the disaster that had occurred in Nevada. Some no doubt felt vindicated, their jaded souls pleased by the destruction of the complex which was in charge of the Sentinels who had left the grounds of the mansion. Perhaps they felt that this was an improvement – and certainly, the sudden absence of the massive robots was an ease on Kurt’s mind. But to have such an exchange at the expense of so many lives?

Fifty plus were reported missing, probably dead. Fifty plus. Whether they were innocent people or not, mutants or not, made no difference to the Roman Catholic German – they were still fifty plus lights extinguished all at once, a blow against humanity at large and unsegregated. He could never feel elated by such news.

He’d stood behind Ororo’s chair, pointed chin resting on arms crossed atop the back of the seat, comforted by the scent of her hair. However, when Xavier rose and crossed to the door, alertness straightened the acrobat’s distracted frame. Quick propulsion from coiled muscles cast him lightly into the air, feet joining hands in perch on the leather. Being careful to not bump the white-haired head of the woman whose company he felt blessed to share time and again, Nightcrawler balanced his rump atop the tall back-rest of the chair. Bare feet were tucked together by one hip, his bent left leg flat to the leather cushion. Right leg stood with knee toward the ceiling, sharp elbow of matching arm hooked over that joint. His left hand pressed against the limb which dispersed his weight along the entire perch, preventing the fulcrum of the chair from being turned too much in his favor and thus toppling. It would take a bit more than Kurt’s weight to overturn the sturdy seat anyway.

Torso leaned forward to help accommodate for his balance as the government woman entered. From this protective gargoyle-esque position, the teleporter listened to her proposal, and to the countering comments of the gathered X-Men. Gleaming yellow eyes moved to watch each man and woman as they made their points, and Kurt recognized the arguments they were making. This was an issue of trust, down at its most basic level. Each had reasons to snarl at the Government, to ask why they should jump at the command when they’d only received kicks in return. Everyone in this room (including Kurt himself) had received a sour turn from some agent who in the end reported to Big Brother G.

But what if the Brotherhood was responsible for the tragedy of fifty plus deaths? How could they justify sitting by, claiming that this incident was of no concern to them? If mutants had done the deed, mutants would be held accountable, regardless of whether they belonged to the Brotherhood. And if mutants did not stand up to correct misbehavior committed by mutants, how could they ever claim that they had done all they could to protect the peace and equality that was their goal? How could the X-Men not try to make this right?

Everyone who’d spoken seemed to have missed the file that was placed on the Professor’s desk prior to Miss Cooper’s proposal. They clamored for evidence, which Kurt wagered was lying right in front of them. “May ve see the file vhich you have brought?” He requested, accent filling the room after Frost’s cautionary speech. They were all trying to get at the same thing, but where the others hedged around the point with insults and hesitations Kurt went for the direct question. Three-fingered left hand extended in supplication, his tail curled up to wrap the flexible, shade-shaped end over Ororo’s shoulder, indicating subtly that by ‘we’ he’d meant the both of them, not just the group present in the room. Her words had tried to ground the dispute, while the waspish retorts expressed by Emma Frost were working the mood of the room into irritation again. But Wagner was with Munroe in opinion – confirmation was necessary.

[Charles Xavier]

They certainly were an open minded bunch. From outright and fully expressed disgust to more reserved, refined and delicate disagreement across the board, Valerie couldn’t say she hadn’t made her way here without expecting a few simmering, sour feelings. Beginning with Wolverine’s uncensored outburst, through modulated concern and agreement from Cyclops and Storm, to the Frost woman and her lengthy diatribe and the blue skinned Nightcrawler’s simply spoken request, the deputy director’s other brow steadily rose to join its twin, close to her hairline. Months of government protection hadn’t sat well with them, evidently, and if it was any indication they would rather she didn’t show her face in their residence at all. That said, if it was solid, tangible evidence the X-Men were looking for before jumping to any rash conclusions, unfortunately they would be caught rather short on that front. With only a small number of hours having passed since the compound’s destruction, teams were still scouring the wreckage for any markers at all that would lead their chase for the culprits in the right direction. As it now stood, the slim folder that Cooper now reached to pick up from Xavier’s desk was all the notes that the Office of National Emergency currently possessed on the disaster, and none of it held any kind of substantial affirmation. Cerulean opticals darted to Xavier and head tilted aside in fractional questioning. After a short pause, the telepathist broke his silence.

“I cannot help but agree with the sentiments of my X-Men, Miss Cooper. Dangerous as the Brotherhood have consistently proven to be, and as much as I have no doubt that this incident involved foul play, there seems to be absolutely nothing to indicate their involvement in this tragedy.” Cloudy eyes narrowed on pronunciation of that last word, fixing Valerie with a long, steady stare. While true enough that Charles was intently curious about her motives for pinning all blame on Mystique and her accomplices, he refrained from extending psychic tendrils to pluck the strings of her consciousness. Instead, legs carried the Professor back round to his desk, hands clasped carefully behind his back as he paced. Watching him move, Valerie took a moment before speaking.

“Well that’s hardly the point. You’re all more than welcome to browse the information we’ve gathered so far and come to your own conclusions.” Nails tapped against the file’s surface a couple of times before sliding it into the grasp of slender digits, handing it to the Professor and rounding on Emma. “I must say, Miss Frost, your presentation is hokey at worst and trite at best, which really doesn’t leave any room for improvement. The day the Brotherhood is ever found innocent of anything, I’m sure hell will freeze right over. If I ever need a psychologist, I’ll be sure not to look you up.” Long legs transported the woman forward then, until she halted only a few paces away from the blonde telepathist. “So are you understood? Yes. Could I give a rat’s mangy backside? Hardly.”

Facing the group once more, Valerie caught up with her previous trail of thought. “Fact is, we would appreciate your help in this--” dialogue was cut off abruptly by a muffled ringing sound, coming from the vicinity of Cooper’s jacket pocket. Whipping out her cell phone and glancing at the screen, the blonde muttered a hurried “Excuse me,” to the group, turned on her heel and paced to the far corner, following with a tersely snapped “Yes?”

“Miss Cooper... ma’am, if you happen to be close to a television right at this moment, I think you should turn it on.”

Icy opticals blinked once, then flicked to the far corner of the room to where a small television was kept on a stand. Not uttering a word to any of those present or even thinking to ask permission, heeled feet strode over and free hand reached for the switch, flicking the device into life. Moving back by half a step, Cooper kept her gaze steady even as images came to life on the screen – footage from within the United Nations, the General Assembly no less, and a towering figure with malformed facial features who had caused every world leader present to cower back in terror as he addressed the camera directly.

“ I am En Sabah Nur, the First One, and I have walked this Earth long enough to see it plagued by the same disease millennia after millennia. Too long has humanity blundered through short allotments of their lives, potential buried underneath varnish of mediocrity, evolution stilted by aspirations appropriate of insects – and I say no more! A new dawn is coming, a renaissance of mankind, for I shall bring forth a world the strongest and fittest alone shall inherit; whereas those unworthy of standing beside me, all those who fail to abandon falsehoods that hang like a veil over their eyes, fail to embrace the greatness that I offer and join me, shall be purged.”

Mouth fell open in horrified disbelief and phone remained pressed to one of Valerie’s ears as she followed the onscreen debacle. Not only was this man... En Sabah Nur, proclaiming himself as some kind of doom-mongering messiah, but the older male at his side was someone whom the deputy director – and doubtless her mutant companions – recognised almost instantly. “Magneto...?” The word was spoken on a breath, and the other end of the line was completely silent.

“And because I do not prophesise miracles and Armageddon while offering no proof…”

Broad palms and thick fingers extended themselves towards the screen and instantaneously, the room itself began to tremble and shudder to its very foundations. Bookcases shivered, windows rattled and the television reception faltered to the echo of confused, screaming students in other rooms as that momentary earthquake took hold. From behind his desk, Charles lowered himself into a leather-bound chair, lids suddenly snapped shut over grey-blue eyes because this new vibration triggered something ferocious to pulse at the very forefront of his well-honed mind. A psychic signature that burned and throbbed in strong, steady beats, consuming the man’s senses as his head bowed with the sheer force. It was one he was all too familiar with, sickeningly so. The venerable man had felt the same frequency several months ago, as tremors rocked through District X. Completely thrown off balance, Valerie lurched against the closest wall and splayed one hand against it, the better to hold herself upright, widened opticals darting across the office to its residents in confusion. Phone, still firmly glued to her ear, resonated with crackling yelps – evidently her colleagues at O*N*E were feeling the exact same tremor through their bones. And in the next instant, the shaking subsided. Aftershocks trickling into insignificant ripples and utter stillness.

“ This is but a fraction of what is to come. Apocalypse will cleanse the Earth and bring forth harmony, and whether you will fall or rise is a destiny resting solely within each of your hands..”

With those words, Apocalypse disappeared from view, taking Magneto with him in a sweep of blackened smoke that consumed the camera for a moment. Working to control her unsteady breathing, Cooper worked to bring herself upright once more. But it was not over.

“M--Ma’am?” A stuttering, panicked voice uttered over the phone. She swallowed, hard.

“Yes?”

“There’s a pyramid. A giant pyramid’s just appeared above the General Assembly.”

A moment’s silence.

“Oh, God.”

Pale skin blanched, blood running out of alabaster cheeks as Valerie’s free hand reached to cover her face, digits pushing up her glasses and pinching at the bridge of her nose. “Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Connection cut and cell phone placed back in her pocket, the blonde woman drew in a deep breath and straightened her spine as she turned to regard the gathered X-Men, composure pulled back up with practiced swiftness. “We’re going to have to put the matter of the Brotherhood on hold. Clearly, there’s something bigger and much more serious at work here that needs our full attention. Apparently this Apocalypse has brought his own little piece of Egypt to New York and set up a pyramid to hover directly over the United Nations. Whatever you do, don’t go running off all gung-ho trying to smash it to bits, will you. If you end up flattening a dozen of the world’s most powerful men, I’d never hear the end.”

Curt nod given to the group at large, Valerie spun towards the door and took her leave, closing the portal firmly behind her.

((Exit Valerie Cooper))

[Cyclops]

The conversation had gone pretty much as Scott Summers had predicted. After Logan's initial and expected outburst, and Scott's more unexpected agreement with the feral mutant, the rest of the room had lined up against the idea that what Valerie Cooper and the government was trying to sell them. Hunting down mutants at the whim of whatever government agency had been put in charge of controlling their lives this week was not what the X-Men had been formed for and not what they were going to start doing. However it was clear that if there was proof that the Brotherhood had been behind the attacks, then at least a few of those in the room would begin to support the idea. Summers wondered where he would fall if presented with conclusive proof. On one hand stopping the Brotherhood was a priority for them regardless of what the government wanted, however the fact that they had (allegedly) destroyed the very same metal monsters that had watched over the school for so long did nto exactly sadden him. For once, he realized, he was on the same page as the Brotherhood.

What happened next though did surprise him. This En Sabah Nur speaking both to the United Nations and the viewers at home seemed a formidable person. Scott instantly noticed Magneto to his side, and this caused him to glance away from the screen and towards Xavier to see how the Professor reacted. The fact was that nobody had expected to see Magneto again, and if he were back that was bad news. Worse news was that he seemed to be back as someone's lieutenant, and that was out of character for the man. If he was paylng the part of the right hand man, it meant that whomever this En Sabah Nur was he was a serious player. As impressive as being able to, apparently, teleport a pyramid from Egypt and hover it over the United Nations' building in downtown New York was it paled in comparision to convincing Magneto to play Robin to his Batman. Scott tried to think of the timing of this, the government's O*N*E sentinels being destroyed shortly before Magneto arrived with a new master? It was almost as if the Brotherhood were clearing the way for their old leader. If he was not already back in control over them.

Would Mystique have welcomed Magneto back? Scott knew too little of the dynamic between the shapeshifter and the master of magnatism to have an answer for that but he doubted that after having been given free reign over the little terrorist group the blue mutant would have been anxious to hand it back. Of course Magneto's two children were rumoured to be in the Brotherhood, presumably they would have supported their father's return.

Before he had his answer the room shook, an apparent demonstration of the power of En Sabah Nur. Scott steadied himself by placing a hand on the corner of Xavier's desk, gripping it until the tremor had passed.

As Cooper left the mutant known as Cyclops studied the rest of those in the room.

"She's wrong. If Magneto's there the odds are the Brotherhood are either already helping him or are going to have seen the same thing as we just did and will be going to him. This En Sabah Nur seems like enough of a heavy hitter without having to deal with them," Scott said, "At least some of us need to find them and take them out of the equation before they're able to side with their old boss."

Since the Battle at Alcatraz the balance of power had swung. During that ifght the X-Men had been vastly outnumbered, having to field a student team alongside Beast, Wolverine and Storm as Magneto had a virtual army of mtuants to throw at the facility. Now however from everything the X-Men were hearing the Brotherhood was done to a handful of members while the X-Men's ranks had been swelling in the years since. It would be possible for the team to split up and send a small group to deal with the Brotherhood while another tacked the main target of En Sabah Nur and Magneto.

[Wolverine]

Falling into relative silence following his initial outburst at O*N*E deputy director’s audacity and nerve to request the X-Men’s assistance after her metallic hounds have been watching their every move for so long; mounting exasperation coming through a verbal explosion embellished with invectives because he cared not if the blond got offended, Wolverine crossed his arms across the muscular chest, sleeves of simple black tee cutting off at the middle of biceps, and remained pensively uncommunicative as others chimed in to voice opinions of their own. With deep scowl dominating his forehead, a hint of anger tightening the furrowed brows as was typical of the temperamental feral, his expression was otherwise unrevealing. As if carved in stone, no twitch of brows or firmer set of jaw to indicate slight surprise that Summers and himself could see eye to eye about anything whatsoever; nothing but gruff impassiveness even if the superhealer did agree with Storm’s bold comment, and then he just pretty much zoned out when the pompous mindwitch started droning on and on and… on and on, while saying absolutely nothing that hadn’t already been covered without this goddamn tedious litany. Tensions were running high and understandably so, though the question of Brotherhood’s innocence or guilt was not a moral debate that occupied even a smidgeon of Logan’s own mindscape. Even if, by some chance, they were not the ones who blew up O*N*E facility, they weren’t irreproachable whatsoever, for their hands have been dirty long before this date. That’s what annoyed him the most, perhaps. When Brotherhood was mauling the X-Men’s own there was no government offering anything then; but now when the problem came knocking on their own door, here they were, looking to enlist the X-team’s services. Hardly fucking surprising.

Yet the differences between the two men had become apparent once again rather quickly, and the feral bothered not to conceal a snarl of aversion that flashed across thin lips, lids narrowing around tawny hues until they were nothing but furious slivers as Cyclops suggested he had absolutely no problems getting in the bed with the government. The kid had to be completely burnt out in every sense to think such an affair wouldn’t come biting them on the ass like a bad case of proverbial STD that was impossible to shake off. No thanks. Wolverine had quite enough of dealings with the government to know how those bastards operated, that nothing would come of it other than them being shafted, and he had no intentions of being the Big Brother’s lap dog. Not anymore; not ever again. As it was, it seemed that Valerie Cooper had merely relied upon the fact that the extremist faction was a common adversary, expecting the X-Men to chomp at the bit now without even saying pretty please. With his mind already made, an unmoving stance taken that would not be changing no matter what Charlie and the rest of the team decided, this whole display, the repetitive back and forth, was rather hackneyed. Until the blond woman’s cell phone rang and she excused herself to an office’s remote corner, as if that offered any privacy in a room with a mutant who possessed such enhanced senses as Logan. Hazel gaze flickered nonchalantly across the countenances of his teammates, keen ears pricking up to eavesdrop on Cooper’s phone call without compunction, not that he could help not overhearing it even if he wanted to, and it seemed things were about to get interest. Finally something, if the two platinum chicks already weren’t planning on taking their spat to a physical level.

Indeed, no sooner had Cooper hang up her phone, than she moved over to the television and turned it on, and what looked very much like the UN General Assembly hall filled the screen – before the focus was quickly turned on the ugly, grotesque mug of some blue dude with crimson eyes talking about his plans to bring about utopia through the Armageddon. The usual stuff. Yet what truly captured his attention was the individual standing beside this En Sabah Nur, the aged face and silver hair Wolverine would recognize anywhere. Man whom he’d hoped was dead by now, yet was obviously very much alive, staring ahead with a look to his eyes that was something else entirely. Until the proof of power, at least, as the earth itself began to tremble, vibrations shooting through the foundations and walls and making everything within the manor quiver. Suddenly too preoccupied to articulate his as per usually eloquent thoughts of Magneto’s resurfacing, a single curse was muttered underneath his breath as the feral unfolded his arms quickly the instant the bookcase he had been leaning so comfortably against suddenly started rattling and books began tumbling to the floor – palms splayed against the wooden surface and whatever books it still contained to seek momentarily leverage and stability, before the man stepped away from the wall altogether and moved towards the center of the office. Sharp gaze surveyed the states of those present, noticing Xavier’s unease but saying nothing, diverting his attention to the screen once more. With parting words of ominous nature, both the big guy and Magneto disappeared through smoke – teleporting away, the superhealer figured, before live feed from the UN headquarters ceased and they were back to studio, the reporter stating they have confirmation the earthquake was global, felt equally in every country of the world. Okay, that was major.

The O*N*E deputy director made her exit then, not before dropping some parting words, and Summers quickly added his own two cents. “That’s assumin’ this second Brotherhood is willin’ to follow Magneto. Mystique’d rather chew both her legs and arms off than crawl back to him after he dropped her like a worthless piece of human trash four years ago.” Wolverine knew the shapeshifter, but the master of the magnetism wasn’t his expertise. Although he never would’ve imagined a man like Magneto following someone else’s lead like an obedient little dog, perhaps his former chum could shine some light on the matter. “What’s the deal with your ex-pal, Chuck? Two megalomaniacs with a god complex hangin’ out together sounds like a megalomaniac too many if y'ask me.“

[Rogue]

((CF : Winds of Change))

Full pelt just wasn’t fast enough. All the power possessed by long legs and femininely toned musculature carried Rogue through the mansion’s corridors in a blur, flying past bewildered faces and mouths opened in unuttered questioning. Heavy pound of booted feet behind told the Southerner that Remy was hot on her heels, full of just as much concern in the wake of that frankly disturbing news coverage and the quake that shuddered beneath their feet in immediate backwash. Sweeping around a corner and inching ever closer, Marie almost collided with an impeccably dressed, bespectacled blonde striding from the opposite direction and in no small rush herself. Having no intention to slow down and in no frame of mind to offer an apology, the untouchable woman darted past that possible obstacle, skipping gracefully aside and gradually easing up on her pace as the door to Xavier’s office came into view. Long, assured strides took Rogue right up to that closed portal, gloved hand closing around the doorknob and neck craned round for an instant to regard the demon eyed thief at her side with an uneasy glance and the arch of a single brow, before knuckles tapped lightly against dark wood. Regardless of the gesture, the power absorber didn’t wait for any answer from the other side; structure pushed open and she paced into the room for a couple of steps, pale flesh flushed with exertion, grinding to a halt as emerald opticals took in each of the X-Men currently populating the space in turn – falling eventually on the Professor himself, faint frown creasing her forehead. The telepathist looked oddly drawn; head bowed, eyes firmly shut and pads of his fingers pressed firmly against his temples. Whatever the hell was going on here, Marie was becoming increasingly sure that a mere earthquake was only the teetering tip of a substantial iceberg.

She didn’t need to ask whether those present had felt that tremor. It was clear by the state of the office as a whole – several books tossed across the floor, a chair laying on its side and Xavier’s own unrest. Shifting her attention to the television that had been left on in the corner, Rogue’s agitated scowl only grew in its depth, carving bolder lines into her brow as arms laced loosely beneath her bosom. Reports were now coming through from all over the globe; Europe, Asia, even as far-flung as Australia, of a sudden upheaval lasting no more than a matter of seconds that shook the walls of buildings and did no more damage than a couple of cars being crushed by loose debris. Full lips pursed and vivid chartreuse narrowed, faint hiss of disquieted breath escaping the woman’s lungs. “Apocalypse.” Drawled utterances wrapped around the terrible figure’s name, more thoughtful and inflected than anything else, as though only meant for her own contemplation. “He ain’t exactly the shy, retirin’ type, is he...” Grim wryness laced Rogue’s dialogue as it rose to a more normal volume, though no trace of a smile even fluttered across her mouth. This man, mutant or otherwise, could command simultaneous, worldwide earthquakes simply by lifting his hands... and by his own exclamation, that much was only skimming the surface. More was promised on a wider scale, should mankind refuse to acquiesce to his proposal.

One covered hand lifted after a moment, fingers rubbing at Marie’s forehead and that goddamn tension that wouldn’t dissipate from between her eyes. This was all kinds of not good on a potentially globally disastrous scale, and the next question that rested on the tip of her tongue simply didn’t need to be asked. Being Rogue, however, she voiced it regardless. “We waitin’ on anythin’ specific? Let’s hope the government don’t get any bright ideas. Last thing we need is for their gunners to get all shoot-‘em-up and ass-drop us into an even bigger heap a’hell.”

[Colossus]

CF// In The Middle Of It All & any threads after

With the amount of trouble that he'd been finding himself in lately Peter was in no state of shock about the news that had come to pass just recently. He'd discovered that part of him wasn't so secure at the mansion anymore, that maybe not getting out as often as he could was driving him crazy with every day that passed. He'd already messed up at a concert that was supposed to be a nice way to let loose and relax after being cooped up in the mansion for so long, but that had gone down the drain and Xavier had been less than impressed with the chaperons that had been involved in that fiasco. Now he was looking at facing his girlfriend, afraid to tell her that he had kissed someone that wasn't her. Mirage wasn't around for him to talk to and he wanted to make things right with her at the very least. He knew that Kitty had a major aggression to her when she heard something she didn't like but he'd never seen the fury for himself. Piotr did not want to be on the receiving end of something like that. That was why he'd spent the last few days contemplating how he was going to approach her, number one, and working out mostly, number two. He was still a man and he still wanted to let go in the way that men did best. This seemed the perfect time for him to do such a thing, always focusing on the better things rather than what could come of the bad things.

Flex. Relax. Flex. Relax.

He had gone from a hundred pounds with easy reps to something higher, something along the lines of two hundred and fifty. He was a strong man, using his muscle more than his mind when in situations that he couldn't solve without confrontation. That's what made him one of the heavy hitters on the X-Men; he was good for strength and shielding but he'd leave the full teams' tactics to the telepaths and those that were more than capable of leading the team itself. Peter would never be at the helm when it came to a battle because his sense of morals and the guilt that could occur from something deadly would never leave his mind. He would never forgive himself above all others if someone got hurt or worse, died. Setting the weights back down on the bench he sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead before he rose from the bench, his steps carrying him to the showers, then the locker room and finally to the locker that he had taken up that held his clothes.

Peter had gone with blue jeans and a black, short-sleeved shirt before changing into his work out clothes. The boots that went with were heavy by some standards but light on his two feet. He laced them up last before tucking the legs of his pants over the tops of them. When he'd gotten everything picked up he headed up to the main floor, which appeared as a mere school, he'd felt the tremor. Something told him that it wasn't a natural earthquake. Maybe it was because in the last two months things had been relatively quiet, or maybe it was just because he had that spine-tingling feeling that told him something terrible was going on. He'd stopped long enough to get his stance back before he started down the hall, moving as quickly as he could through the corridors, weaving around students to get to the Professor's office. As an X-Man he wanted to know what was going on, and whether or not his assistance would be needed. As confused as he was right then he knew that he'd have to do this one way or another. His duties always came first.

The students that were in his way were smart enough to move. He was a big man and it would have been bad for him to hit someone, but he was in a hurry. Piotr moved quickly to the office, arriving shortly after Rogue had done so. He seemed a bit out of breath but he was there nevertheless, missing the issuance of the matter but he knew that either way, if it was something involving them, he'd hear about it one way or another. "What's going on?" That was the only question he could think about asking, but he had heard Rogue's statement before, his gaze on her before going back to the Professor, his head cocking in question. "What would the government be doing shooting?" Sometimes it sucked to miss out on things. He couldn't have agreed more with himself at that point.

[Storm]

The thing that the goddess did not share with her colleagues, however, was their apparent flare for melodramatic outbursts, genuine and histrionic alike. The very notion of Valerie Cooper coming to request their assistance today simply to orchestrate a scenario where two birds could be killed with one shot, Brotherhood and X-Men, seemed far fetched at best and paranoid at worst. Had the Office of National Security truly wanted the X-team dead, they could have obliterated them during the District X disturbance without having to justify such definitive act to anyone, for who would not believe the monstrous machines were acting in the best interest of general public in moments when some of world’s more powerful mutants were spiraling out of control. Ororo Munroe had been one, her unchecked godly power and unimaginable wrath bringing forth a storm that covered all of New York, thus she could understand the government’s belief why robots capable of parrying dangerous homo superior might be necessary. Nevertheless, the weather witch did not condone of the government’s methods, yet it all seemed so typically human – turning to those they would gladly keep locked within house arrest, cut off from the rest of the world lest they kill them all, in instances were all other options have dried out and one’s pride had to be swallowed. Desperate times called for desperate measures, she presupposed. While Storm very much supported the idea of Brotherhood standing trial for their crimes, and stood behind the X-Men’s intent to police their own, she still remained staunch in what she had previously said, for the Headmistress truly had no intention of allowing her team to be strung around like puppets when they had no indisputable guarantees for fearer treatment of mutantkind.

Vivid, cerulean gaze drifted across the office as two blonde women dissolved into a catty argument she herself had never saw appeal of, finding Frost’s delusions that she had any say-so whatsoever over workings of the team, and school in general for that matter, to be rather farcical. While the final stance had not been assumed yet, and while each member of the team was absolutely entitled to their own opinion, of course, and while all those views would, indeed, be heard and taken into consideration, ultimately, the decision was exclusively up to Charles and Ororo – others were not expected to agree with every choice the leaders made, for expecting such a thing would be wholly unrealistic in a group consisting of such diverse characters, but all were expected to follow nonetheless. The meeting swiftly and unpredictably took a turn for something else entirely, a phone call that Valerie Cooper received prompting the woman to turn the television on, and did they have something to see. Not only has some towering, grotesque figure invited himself to the United Nations General Assembly, using the stage to proclaim his dissatisfaction with humanity and announce plans for bringing about Armageddon to the entire world, but Erik Lehnsherr was standing at his side. Delicate brows arched languidly towards her hairline, cornflower blue hues staring intently at the screen, and to say the Windrider was surprised would be an understatement. It has been a while since the cure was declared as temporary, and days when they might have expected Magneto to resurface and continue his battle have passed. The master of magnetism has not thrown in the towel just yet, it seemed, but Storm would have never pictured him as a soldier following another’s lead. This En Sabah Nur, whoever he really was, had to be rather formidable to get Magneto on his side. And to demonstrate just how formidable, the man caused an earthquake.

The earthen mother sensed it before she felt it; although not a terrakinetic, she was bonded to all of natural world and dynamics present within it, and this tremor seemed wrong. Delicate hands grasped at the handles of the leather chair Ororo was seated upon, slender neck craned around, better to level her crystalline gaze upon Kurt who had been lounging upon the back of the chair; knowing getting up first while he was still perched there would not be helpful. “Brace yourself,” was all she managed to utter before the earthquake struck, vibrations permeating the earth and concrete, and throwing everything into a disarray. It was not severe or long, but it was no less troubling. Mocha fingers reached towards her countenance as the tremors subdued, running through the silken tresses of alabaster while eyes like chips of sapphire looked over everyone present, just to ensure no one was hurt. She could not help but notice Xavier’s lowered head, lids closed over steel opticals, fingertips pressing against the temples as if what just occurred had given him a headache. “Charles, are you alright?” the weather goddess had to inquire, concerned for her mentor’s condition. Valerie Cooper’s voice seeped into her awareness once again, though the atmokinetic did not turn to look at the woman for another second, gaze resting upon the bald telepath’s visage for another beat before finally being averted to the O*N*E deputy director. “Miss Cooper, X-Men’s intention is not to bring pyramids toppling down on anyone's head, but to protect lives and ensure safety of all, including those who might consider us weapons of mass destruction. If anything new comes up on the matter of explosion in Nevada, you have our number, I am sure.”

No sooner had the blond woman left, that everyone offered their opinions of what was happening, while some who have not been at the office during the meeting quickly found their way here after the news report and the earthquake. “A new villain has emerged, one calling himself En Sabah Nur, who has just declared most of world’s population to be obsolete – promising to bring forth Armageddon that would cleanse the Earth of all who are week. The earthquake that just occurred is his doing, and he has Magneto on his side,” the Windrider first addressed Colossus, who had seemingly missed the news broadcast on all TV channels. “I understand everyone’s enthusiasm to prevent this from coming to pass,” she continued, cerulean opticals flickering towards Rogue and to the rest of the room, ”but it would be imprudent, not to mention reckless, to rush in without any knowledge whatsoever of what exactly we might be dealing with. If this earthquake was global like they say – and I have felt its potency and scope – as well as but a fraction of Nur’s might, then we must not underestimate him. Or thin our ranks if all power we possess will be needed to stop this madman from committing a genocide. If Brotherhood has aligned themselves with this En Sabah Nur, then that is already a done deal. If not, something I would consider more likely given who their current leader is, we cannot waste resources on a witch-hunt. Brotherhood will be dealt with and delivered to justice in order to answer for their crimes in due time, but for now, our responsibilities are to our students and the mutantkind as a whole.”

[Elisabeth Braddock]

cf: That Ruby Gaze

Elisabeth Braddock did not fancy herself a morning person, considering that she had more than enough money to sleep in however she pleased and rarely had a reason to get up before the hour of ten o’clock since coming to the Xavier Institute, but multiple occurrences kept her in a light sleep with her mind racing. Just the day before she had a disturbing precognitive vision that she was still trying to make sense of while in the early morning the loud sound of jet engines also woke her in a sweat. Though, not all of her racing thoughts were terrible or confusing ones as her thoughts of Scott and their little moment shared together had kept her somewhat calm and pleased through out her early risings. Taking advantage of her light sleep, Betsy filled the bath tub connected to her bedroom with bubbles and slowly relaxed herself within during the early hours of the morning. Having spent well over an hour soaking her body left her skin soft, and vulnerable and upon drying herself and letting the lotion mix with her flesh had returned her complexion and touch to the usual soft and delicate appearance it strived to uphold. Betsy quickly dressed herself in a tight black dress shirt from the Express and a grey pencil skirt with a slight on the right side. Leaving the top two buttons of the shirt unbuttoned, and rolling up the sleeves delicately to her elbow left Betsy with room to appear both formal, yet flirty. A thick white belt clasped across her waist accent the look as she took out a trusty pair of black pumps to finish off the ensemble as she began to do her hair.

Sitting on the edge of her bed before a mirror, Elisabeth’s left leg crossed gently over her right one as the curling iron ran through her towel dried lavender locks of hair. Her soft, violet eyes fluttered about the room and back to the mirror from time to time as Psylocke continued to ready her hair for the day ahead of her, as she had woken up considerably early. Following in the footsteps of Scott Summers, her newest attraction, Betsy would probably snoop around the school and find a way to land herself a potential teaching position… though her desire to do so was simply out of the closeness it would bring to her and Scott. She had never spent a day in her life wishing to be an educator, though she certainly had plenty to teach the children of the Xavier Institute. Far too many of the mutant teenagers were concerned with the sheer velocity of their mutant powers as opposed to their application and utility use. Psylocke would never go out on a limb and called herself an extremely powerful telepath, but that did not mean that Betsy Braddock did not have a trick or ten up her sleeve. She was a tactical innovator, or so she felt, when it came to the art of telepathy. Though, no matter what level of tactical preparedness she had could prevent the amount of whiplash she was about to receive from an unknown psychic source.

Elisabeth’s body dropped backwards, the curling iron clapping on the floor as her body sprawled out along her bed. Her form shifted for a few moments, before her eyes shot open and a soft, purple haze resonated from within her violet irises. Though she was unsure of what the psychic signal was wishing to get across, it was something she had tasted before – on the fateful night that’s he had met Ororo Munroe and Rogue deep within the heart of Manhattan. Quickly, Elisabeth sat herself back up and ran her hands through her somewhat unfinished hair. Vanity would have to wait, for the psychic feedback and her prior precognitive vision all began to make sense as they piled together. Though Psylocke could not exactly pinpoint where her visions came from; whenever there was a high level of ‘astral plane’ stress culminating, it would release in a vision to her… or so she hypothesized considering there was no telepathic scientist around to forensic study her brain and its inner mappings. Rolling her eyes to the thought, Betsy stood up and unplugged the curling iron before looking in the mirror to wonder with what to do to her hair. Betsy gripped a hair tie and pulled her long lavender locks to the left shoulder before tying them together in one neat row that remained draped over her left shoulder before exiting the room. Looking down upon her dresser, the X-Woman also noticed most of her cosmetics had shifted. In the short period of her psychic feedback, she wondered if there had been a physical altercation along with it.

Psylocke knew where she was going to send herself to – and that place was the office of Charles Xavier. He was the ranking telepath at the school, not to mention its namesake although he and Betsy had never a chance to really ‘pow wow’ with one another. Though, knowing about his telepathic powers, she thought it would be best to consult with not only the leader of the X-Men, but the powerful telepath he was on the psychic feedback she had just felt and the precognitive visions she had seen a day earlier regarding the United Nations and a dark, black shadow above it. Her visions came with torment, and misery… though from where, she still could not tell. Betsy figured that she would rather be a telepath anyway… as seeing the future brought a terrible vibe and karma onto her body. Upon reaching the office of Charles Xavier, Betsy’s hand turned the doorknob to enter only to face the large, hulking back of Piotr Rasputin. As soon as the tail end of Ororo’s speech had subsided and with her pumps pushing into the luscious carpet of the Victorian office, she opened her mouth to speak.

“I duly apologize, I was unaware you were all conferencing… but I wished to see Professor Xavier…” Elisabeth began, her eyes darting across the room from Wolverine, to Cyclops, to Emma Frost, and onto Nightcrawler and Storm – before finally locking on the regal form of Charles Xavier. “… I… I just felt a psychic feedback in my mind – it knocked me out for a few moments in my room. It had the same distinct resonation as the feedback I felt in District X, months ago, when I met you all. ” She blurted out towards Charles – before her body language suddenly became uneasy for the often confident, and strong-minded runway model. Everyone in the room appeared to be stoic, and seriously aggravated about something. Though Elisabeth had not seen the form of Valerie Cooper on her way into Professor Xavier’s office, the X-Men had surely been riled by her presence and conversation. “My, you all look like you’ve seen death itself. Perhaps, I will come back later…” Betsy said, before backing up in the door way and looking around at their disturbed faces, once more. Though, even Scott’s face couldn’t stop her from smiling in his direction.

[Gambit]

CF - Winds of Change

---

He would have past the two-toned haired beauty in front of him if that had been his intention, however, he stayed behind his fellow X-Man because this was not a race, nor was it the time or place to bring out the competitive streak still so much a part of him. The events they’d just witnessed on the television within the commons, and felt throughout the veins of the very earth itself, were far more important than beating Rogue to the Professor’s office. If the momentary look she gave him before entering through the large mahogany door was not proof enough, walking in and seeing their mentor currently dealing with what was obviously something on a psychic level most definitely was. Then, as red-on-black eyes were drawn to yet another television set, all thought of this being a one off show of a mutant with an histrionic, sure of himself attitude left the Cajun completely.

Fortunately, for the rising concern, and even a small amount of fear, as someone with the ability to cause a worldwide affecting earth tremor, along with the palpable fact he had one of most well-known anti-human mutants now working by his side, was indeed someone to feel just that little bit of trepidation towards, the moment his uniquely colored gaze fell upon a certain white haired, ebony-skinned weather goddess, LeBeau felt the serenity only Ororo Munroe could exude. Her beauty never ceased to blow him away, leave him speechless, reeling from the emotions he honestly believed he’d never truly feel, and had yet fully been able to undeniably admit to himself. She was his friend, his confidante, the only person in the entire world he would ever trust with all of himself, and more. Therefore, naturally, booted feet were soon carrying him over to stand beside her; to gaze into eyes so very alluring and ask, “Yo be alrigh, mon Stormy?” the affectionate name he’d given her so long ago possibly something that could be chuckled at, were the situation far, far different than it happened to be now.

Only after she assured him she was indeed okay, would he even attempt to check and also make sure his other close friend, the blue furred teleporter, had not been injured or harmed in any way during the very short tremor, his keen gaze able to deduce at least his other, shall it be said, tentative drinking buddy had come through it unscathed, if the mere fact he was a mutant with the a fast healing factor didn’t already add to the deduction process of those thoughts. Of course, when the woman he lo… ~Non, it no’ be dat emotion,~ he continued to deny… began to address first Colossus, then all of them, Remy took that as his answer, that she was indeed in one piece, no bruises or pains present in any way. Her words were, if nothing else, what could be expected from a woman with an extremely intelligent head upon her delicate shoulders - straightforward and to the point before anyone had the time to argue with her.

There was something to be said about a man, who used to always find himself waking up with a different woman every night, that a raise of the eyebrow, and a simple nod of greeting was all he gave towards Elizabeth Braddock after she walked in and her gaze briefly touched upon his. Not even her stunning supermodel type beauty would ever compare to the Kenyan born woman beside him. Her explanation of what she’d felt, given mainly for the Professor’s benefit, only helped to verify what the mutant from the Bayous of New Orleans had already been suspecting, that there was more to the earth tremor than simply the ability of terrakinesis. “My, you all look like you’ve seen death itself. Perhaps, I will come back later…” noting the smile given towards Cyclops, and for just a moment wondering what in the world that was all about, Remy addressed Psylocke, heavy accented voice carrying across the room. “I be tinkin it be best yo be stayin an’ informin us all wha’ yo be seein an feelin, Mon Cheri. Dere be tings we be needin t’ learn before we be able t’ do anytin in retaliation… maybe yo be able to help fill dem in?” his questioning tone was aimed both at the purple haired telepath, and his fellow teammates throughout the room.

This post has been edited by Gambit on Jul 26 2009, 10:26 AM

[Emma Frost]

The razor sharp edges of Emma Frost’s eyes narrowed to mere slits as the very uncouth Valerie Cooper stepped forth to prove her worth in what Emma now labeled as something of a pissing contest. The fact that the woman had even attempted to stand up to Frost was something to commend, but frankly, at the end of the day Valerie Cooper was no one important. She was a feeble minded human made all the more worthless by the fact that she was the property of the American Government. Frost merely smiled as the woman edged closer to her, and she allowed an outright chortle to crawl forth from the depths of her throat when the woman attempted to establish her status as someone who did not care for Emma’s opinion. The incontrovertible truth was that Emma was leagues more powerful and deadly than Cooper ever could be, and were it not for the prying eyes of her fellow X-men Emma did not doubt that she would have implanted the lewdest, most unfortunate suggestions within the woman’s subconscious. She was so tempted to abuse her telepathic powers just then, to show the woman her true worth and plant a nightmare so deep within her brainstem that she would never wake from it, but she tempered herself. Emma, unlike Cooper, was a lady. Though she had struck down contending business associates for less than Cooper’s offense without so much as batting an eye she knew that she now lived in different times and that clawing the brain out of another human being, even by way of telepathy, was not exactly kind—at least in common opinion—no matter how deserved it was. “Frustrating not to hold all of the cards, isn’t it, darling?” The woman’s manly air and domineering stance over Emma did nothing to inspire fear in Frost, or to elicit any reaction beyond pity. Now it had seemed to Emma that not only was Cooper in need of the very help that Frost had spoken early but she was also quite stupid. Few crossed Emma Frost without having their wounds from it. “You’ve no right to ask us for help. Did you help the mutants who were begging for their lives as they were beaten to death in alleys? Did you help when mutants were kidnapped and experimented on for your own governments agenda? Ah, and where exactly were you when mutants were being pinned to crucifixes and left to bleed to death? Where were you when our children were burning?” Frost stood, easily towering over the other woman. Fortunately, before their spat could further escalate, Cooper turned from Frost and returned to addressing the group—wisely enough in Emma’s opinion—and Emma re-seated herself, seeing no more need to stand. “Well then.”

The pale-skinned telepathist heaved in a deep, cool breath to settle her nerves. She did not quite know why it had been that Ms. Cooper had infuriated her so but she knew very well that the woman, like many others of Cooper’s affiliation, were not to be trusted. Unlike the others, Frost was not so trusting of humans—be they mutants or not. All animals were scientifically proven to be inherently selfish and the human animal was no different. Cooper was not enlisting the help of the X-men because she truly felt that they were a capable team with the means to aid the government—even if that fact was very true. Cooper only called upon them, Emma believed, because she was in need of mutant cannon fodder against the Brotherhood and their common enmity with the Brotherhood made them viable candidates for such a role. A pity for Ms. Cooper, Emma reckoned, that her plan fell irrecoverably short of its intent long before it could have come to fruition—and frankly Emma was glad, because she like Logan felt that an unmoving stance on their lack of cooperation with the government was the only position worth taking. It was a catch twenty-two situation after all. They were damned in the sense that the Government would continue to use them until their numbers were nil if they did act on the behalf of the O*N*E and they were damned if they did not because the government would not take too kindly to being refused. Emma preferred the latter choice all the same, because at least that way she had the option of retaining both her dignity and sanity. If Cooper was any indication, it was never wise to ally oneself with the U.S. Military and its consortium of ill informed friends.

Emma, ironically enough, did agree with the idea of squashing the Brotherhood as she agreed with investigating whether or not they were responsible for the mess involving the so-called Sentinels. In truth, Emma believed that the Brotherhood needed to be dissolved and removed from the world of nuisance once and for all, for none of them offered anything of worth to their society. However unfortunately for Ms. Cooper, Emma had no intention of doing any such thing while beneath the watchful and downright forceful thrall of the government, and to be quite frank even if she was not skeptical of them she would not have done so for sake of being a contrarian to whatever it was that Ms. Cooper desired. She might have opened her mouth to speak this sentiment had it not been for the other blond's sudden pausing. It had seemed that there was a call. Ms. Cooper answered the phone and Frost allowed a single brow to raise inquisitively, nodding coyly as the woman exited their gazes momentarily in order to take what had appeared to be a very important phone-call. Emma thought that now would be a most appropriate time to apologize to her teammates for having been so shrill and judgmental. She expressed her regrets fully and honestly, though it was done in such a way that she was able to maintain every modicum of dignity and class that she currently possessed. "Again, I must apologize for my outbursts. I'm feeling sloppy today, I suppose. It's this odd telepathic feedback I've been getting for hours now, like a living migraine is beginning to bleed into my thoughts. It's reminiscent of what I felt for an instant before I manifested my ability to transform into...that behemoth, mind-blind form of mine. _{And I just don't trust the wretch.}" As an X-man, Frost knew that it was her duty to do the right thing, but as a woman of pride she also knew when she was being played for a fool. It had seemed that Valerie was playing her and the entirety of the X-men for fools, and one did not assail Emma Frost's pride without catching her endless ire. She had not meant to cross the line that she had, but where her students were concerned she could not and would not be silent. She felt her self to be in the right, though her words may have been perhaps more uncalled for than the others would have liked. That, and perhaps the others would not have found her timing to be appropriate. Emma thought otherwise of course--and someone had to be held responsible for the lack of right that the X-men had been shown.

It was no secret that Emma's moods tended to be blackened by even the faintest of things, but today she had worn her emotions a tad more obviously than she might normally have. She could not quite figure it, but it was as if some kind of psychic bend had caused a spike within her mental facilities, amplifying her aggression tenfold. That, or the woman was simply finding it increasingly difficult to fight off the surge of telepathic interference that was pushing it's way quite ferociously into her skull. As the others watched the tele-screen play what ever it was that was fascinating everyone so, Emma found herself considerably more concerned with the odd disturbance which seemed to be gathering energy with the passing of each second. Just as Ororo had said the words "Brace Yourself", Emma had thought them, suddenly realizing that something great and terrible was to come their way. Her eyes managed to glue themselves to the screen for just a moment and she watched the outstretched hand of the man who called himself En Sabah Nur point seemingly at each and every one of them as his nondescript eyes and disfigured countenance seemingly twisted into something that mimicked joy. Then something most catastrophic occurred! The Earth, how it seemed to writhe beneath their feet! Frost felt a sudden burst of unpleasantness wreak havoc upon her mind--had the Earth quake somehow disrupted the Astral Plane? Impossible! Frost was not going to allow her thoughts to be destroyed by this...madman. Was he responsible for what had just happened? It had seemed to be the case, but was such a thing possible? Could any mutant truly possess that degree of power? She imagined that Magma or Ororo could come close if they wished to do so--but all the same, this was impressive. Frost willed her flesh into that of diamond and though she found it impossible to balance, she took pleasure in knowing that her brief descent to the ground resulted in no pain whatsoever. Instead, it had resulted in the cracking and scratches of the wood upon the floor. "My apologies," she said, "Earthquakes. How pedestrian. Is everyone well?"

By the time she had risen, Frost had taken notice of the several individuals who had flooded into the room shortly after the catastrophe had occurred. It was good to know that there had seemingly been no one harmed in what had just taken place, but could flooding the Professor's office truly lead them to the answers they were seeking? Perhaps. An investigation would likely be necessary before all of this, and Emma was briefly wondering if action taken via Cerebro would be thought acceptable, but even beyond that Emma was wondering what would be done about the students? If something apocalyptic was about to occur as was being suggested, they would have to be protected. Were the X-men truly going to go bandying about the Earth without so much as considering the fates of the children? She certainly hoped not, for she could not be a party to any such thing. Before she could further probe her own thoughts, which were neatly hidden beneath shards of diamond, Elisabeth Braddock entered--not looking nearly as grim as the lot of them. She clamored on about the psychic interference, and Emma nodded toward the woman, signifying that she too had experienced the odd flash, if only momentarily due to the fact that she had transformed into her diamond aspect. Emma was tempted to say more to the woman, but when she noticed the smile that the woman wore as she looked upon the Summers' boy she could not bring herself to do so. She instead allowed her crystalline brows to rise indignantly; it had only figured to Emma that the one person who would show any interest in the same man as her would be the one person who would hold no pretenses about hiding any such thing. Braddock's one-woman campaign against subtlety marked her primarily as a woman of youth and secondarily as someone to be watched by Frost. A person of interest.

Just as the Cajun Gambit had expressed a desire for Braddock to stay and join them, Emma too nodded, thinking it would be best to have more than one or two psychics present given the situation. Emma herself allowed her diamond skin to slip away, flesh returning in its place and restoring her telepathic abilities to their full measure. She had no intention of wasting her words on such a woman however, and she instead rose to her full height, turning her blond mane to regard the white-haired Ororo after the woman had given her rousing communique. "What do we do, then? And what of the children?" she questioned, her tone suggesting of a complete willingness to help rather than one of derision. Melodramatic speeches were well and good when their time was nigh, but at the moment there were surely lives to be saved and problems to be solved. Emma Frost proposed and craved action, and she was rather expecting that such things would be served most immediately. An investigation, or a mission, something of that sort would be far more appropriate than their rallying about the Professor and adding further confusion to what was already a rather nasty mess. There were things taking place which required their immediate attention, after all.

This post has been edited by Emma Frost on Jul 25 2009, 07:33 PM