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Post by Midnight on May 17, 2009 0:03:07 GMT -5
It had been a year. She knew that much. But like the darkness growing and hardening in the back of her mind, it was not something she thought of much. And to think of him would give her physical pain. Even now, it felt like her own black splinters were shooting from her heart and up her arteries while her hands burned with the thought of him. And yet she couldn't remember him. Chance. His last name had been James, but his first name was escaping her. Just like everything that had happened before she was here.
Here? In an alley. Alleys were cheap and she could handle a few unsavory characters that came lurking about. She no longer used her darkness, the black smoke, if she could help it. It attracted too much attention and would help them find her. Who were they? She couldn't remember.
Something had happened to her darkness and now she fought with a black staff that disappeared after using it. It made her thankful for training. Training? She'd had some at one point, somewhere learning how to use a staff.
She moved up the alley, her shoes scuffling the loose dirt and trash. They formerly had thick fashion soles, but even those had worn down in her time out here. Her stomach was growling, but it was normal. She used to have a nice figure, but the angle of her bones was her most dominating feature now.
So tired. She leaned back against the brick wall of one of the buildings, under a rusting metal fire escape ladder and next to a battered dumpster. She wrapped the threadbare blanket around her, covering her holey shirt and dirty jeans. Resting her head on the lowest rung of the ladder and closing her dark eyes, she went back to forgetting.
She had become very good at forgetting. Most of her memory had been trashed by whatever was growing in her mind. She just went about trying to forget the painful parts left over. She could not even remember her name or codename. Shade. That is what she was now. A leftover ghost, a mere apparition of the person who existed before.
Forget. I just want to forget.
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Post by Tiger King on May 23, 2009 21:51:33 GMT -5
A femenine figure slowly floated down nearby a girl. It was only a faint trail that led the purple haired woman to her, but most notably there. "Sometimes the best thing to do is to forget." she spoke gently to herself. Not trying to disturb the young lady, but speaking even if only briefly could pass a short amount of time.
The smallest glimmer of sunlight was beginning to appear just on the horizon. The face of this girl wasn't exactly familiar even if the mind exhibited signs that they'd probably at one point made contact, but just never had the time to get familiar. She simply stood there watching. The ever vidgilant psychic kept watch she'd ensure that this unfamiliar face rested undisturbed untill she was ready to awaken to the world around her.
Psylocke knew this was technically a detour away from her assignment, her mission to find a kidnapped X-Man. But her attempts had been thus far fruitless. She knew the faithfull king of all that was feline, he was recourcefull and would find his way out of trouble eventually. The only problem is the posibility of torture needlessly endured.
However this was not the time to guilt herself over a promising student, he wasn't ther first one who'd ever gone astray though his circumstances were less than normal, it mattered not every student had value, or so the professor would lecture her.
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Post by Chance on Nov 17, 2009 2:07:32 GMT -5
Caity wasn't afraid of the dark. She hadn't been for a long time.
Still, the thought of being alone, of having her senses rendered useless, was something that caused the exposed flesh of her forearms to rise in a series of small rounded bumps. She fought back the urge to speak into the X-shaped band on her wrist, fought the urge to call for back-up. After all, with everything that had gone down recently, she wondered who would even be there to answer her call.
Mindwarp had abandoned the team months ago. She shrugged a lock of chestnut colored hair off her shoulder and exited the subway car she had been traveling in. The two had kept in touch, e-mails mostly, a few phone calls here and there, but Mindwarp was busy, busy being a government agent. Caity would have spat the words had she spoken them. A government agent. How could someone go from being an X-Man, a protector of the peace, a superhero, an individual devoted to bringing about the peaceful coexistence of human and mutantkind, to working for the government. She supposed the medical coverage was a leading factor.
Either way, life around the manor was significantly different. Her father had won his bid for senator, again, and Caity had wiggled her way back into the country, even though her father's campaign manager had been highly against the idea. She knew that the Grand Old Party would have a field day if they could provide evidence that the Liberal Senator Currie was the father of a mutant, but she couldn't spend her whole life hiding in the Spanish countryside, not if she could help it. And sure, Barcelona had been fun, even now she couldn't look at curly hair without thinking about Carlo. He wasn't anything like the boys she had dated at the Xavier Institute. He may not have been able to fly, or shoot energy beams out of his hands, but he had been able to fix a motorcycle, and he read Vonnegut, and knew the lyrics to every song by the Smiths. That and he had an amazing accent.
She tried to push memories of Barcelona to the back of her mind as she crossed the street, careful to keep her goals in clear focus. It was easy to loose herself in the collective consciousness of city streets. With this many people so close together she had a hard time filtering out their thoughts from her own. She had to remain on task, even though she found herself thinking thoughts that weren't hers. She tried to run through the breathing exercises a yoga instructor back in Seattle had taught her. Breathe in, breathe out, think your own thoughts, think your own thoughts.
The honk of a taxi cab broke her concentration. The city was just too complex a place for her to be. Her power worked best in places with limited human activity. Like a school in the middle of the woods.
She remembered a fight she had had with her parents. Her mother was pushing college. If Caity wasn't willing to stay out of the country, then she should at least compromise; leave the X-Men and go away to school. Caity tried to think of counter arguments, cities were no good, and with her abilities college would be too stressful. Besides, she argued, she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do with her life, and on top of that, she had never received a formal education. As good as the Xavier Institute was, she just never really got any studying done. What with fighting Apocalypse, Weapon X and Sentinels, what time was there for school work?
But parents have a way of pushing what they want onto their children. After many months of fighting Professor Xavier got involved. Caity agreed to apply to college, under the condition that she be allowed to defer admission for two years. These two years were for the X-Men.
Now she was officially accepted into NYU's College of Arts and Science. She loved the idea of NYU, but she had to admit, her decision was more strategy than anything else. Mindwarp would have been proud. NYU was close enough to the Xavier Institute, she could easily take a train up whenever they needed her. Additionally, all the good fights happened in New York anyway, she could be there ready to fight whenever some baddie decided to knock on manhattan's door.
So in the end cities had won out. She knew she was going to have to get used to it, the constant buzz of other people's thoughts, the random instances when she would pass by a mutant and unknowingly manifest a new power. She hated when that happened, especially if the mutant had wings or some other sort of physical mutation.
She stopped to pull her hair back into a ponytail. How long had she been at this? She swore she had been patrolling all over the city, searching for anyone who had even a thought of where Marie was. She knew the chances of finding her were slim, that Mindwarp and Professor Xavier had tried using Cerebro to locate Marie, but hadn't managed to pinpoint an exact location, but she knew wasn't ready to give up. Marie's power had the habit of blocking out telepathy, and the only way Professor Xavier thought anyone could get in touch with her was to go out and find her themselves. Caity had been assigned the mission. Locate and recover X-Man codenamed Midnight. Caity just wanted to find her friend.
But there was more at stake then any of the other X-Men knew. The Professor didn't want to scare any of the newer students, but the fact was Midnight was not the only missing student. Eric James, X-Men codenamed Chance, an individual who Caity utterly despised, had gone missing several weeks back. The two of them gone seemed to equal trouble. Although, Caity had to admit, she thought Chance had just left, abandoned the X-Men like he had abandoned the Brotherhood. She had little patience for people she didn't trust. Even though Chance had proven himself again and again on separate occasions she still felt as though Professor Xavier had been rash in allowing him to join as a full fledged member.
A beam of sunlight reflected off the windows of a large skyscraper, the once dark night sky rolling with waves of pink and orange, and Caity had to raise her hands to keep the sun out of her eyes The sun was beginning to rise now and Caity was grateful for it. She had been searching all night, and was careful not only to keep her mind open for Midnight, but to keep on guard. Mutant bodies had been turning up all around the city and the papers were beginning to use words like "serial killer," and "God's punishment." Professor Xavier had warned her that the serial killer, if indeed there was one, could be dangerous, and that she should be careful while within the city limits. Caity knew that she would be able to detect anyone with murderous thoughts before they got too close to do any real damage, but still, she hadn't been back with the X-Men for too long, and although she was fighting back at her old level in the Danger Room, she was worried that without any teammates whose powers she could siphon she would be utterly useless in a battle with any sort of enemy. She remembered when she and Midnight had shared the same powers for awhile. The darkness that Marie was able to bring forth into the world, a corrosive blackness that destroyed anything it touched, a smothering cloud that cut off everything from sight and sound to telepathy, was too much for any one person to bear.
Luckily for her, Syphon had managed to chase Midnight's darkness out of her body. But she knew that Midnight was still suffering from her all-consuming power. Syphon wanted to help, but she just didn't know how. She also knew that if she got close enough to Midnight she would feel that darkness again. She hoped the sun would rise faster.
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Post by Midnight on Mar 3, 2010 1:57:52 GMT -5
Sunlight started sliding over Shade's face. Her eyes squinted even more shut, then she opened them. Dark eyes, red iris on black. She moved her tongue in her mouth to wet it again and was in the process of standing up when she saw the woman floating above her.
Her lips peeled back in a snarl and with one swift motion she threw her hands up and let forth a dark cloud. As much as she did not want to use the smoke, it was easy to see this woman had telekinesis and the smoke blocked mental waves as easily as it did light. As soon as the smoke poured from her hands, covering the woman, Shade turned on her heel and ran.
Her body protested the over activity, stomach curling itself in a knot as if it was trying to eat itself, but adrenaline flooded the rest of her, letting her bony limbs eat up ground as she sprinted down the alley and into the next one.
They, whoever they were, almost found her. Can't let them find her.
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Post by Chance on Jun 8, 2014 19:54:21 GMT -5
Mike stood up from the plastic bedside chair and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. His brother didn't look any different laying down in the hospital bed. He still looked like the same old Steve. Only now Michael couldn't hear the psychic static of his brother's erratic mental abilities.
"He should wake up in a few hours. He'll feel better once he has his rest," the middle aged blonde nurse told him, soft wrinkled hand on Michael's forearm.
"I know," Michael said, ushering a smile. "It's just really difficult to see him like this."
"Professor Costa has a great set up here, all of our technology is top-notch. Your brother is in good hands." She smiled a reassuring smile, and Michael forgave her ignorance.
"I know," he said. He patted her hand, and then gathered his things, slipping on his blue raincoat, and adjusting the brown leather strap of his bag across his chest. He took one last look at his brother and then headed out the door.
Outside, the atmosphere was misty, the dew point was high, and Michael took in a gulp of heavy, humid air with each breath. He looked up at the discreet sign on the building, "St. Martin's." Innocent enough for the average flatscan. But to members of the mutant community, St. Martin's was the premiere hospital for mutant related injuries and disease. In some ways, Michael was glad that Professor Costa had agreed to see his brother, Steven. Professor Xavier certainly hadn't been able to help, and neither had Magneto. No, Steven's powers and mental illness had combined a such a way that required actual medicine and treatment, not just philosophy.
He stood outside of his grey sedan and pulled out his cellphone. Two texts from Caity, and one voicemail from Christian. He listened to the voicemail first. He called Christian back as he adjusted his seatbelt.
"How did it go?" his boyfriend asked. Michael could hear the sound of pots and pans in the background. No doubt Christian was in the middle of cooking dinner.
"Are you cooking for Tommy?" Michael asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah, just some fried rice, nothing too complicated." Christian sounded calm and focused, the kind of steady shoulder that Michael needed right now.
"It was really hard to see him like that," Michael said. He pressed his fingers to his forehead and let out a long sigh. "The nurse said my parents were in earlier. But Steve slept through the whole day."
"Did you get a read on him?"
"No, Professor Costa installed a block. No one's thoughts are getting in or out. He said his mind needs time to heal, and that psychic entry would be too traumatic." Michael came from a family of telepaths. His mother was a telepath, his sister was an illusionist, and he himself was an Omega-level telepath capable of reading and controlling minds and even manipulating reality on a molecular level if he thought about things hard enough. For the Brosley's, telepathic communication was the most natural way to communicate.
"Steven was never much for that kind of talk anyway," Christian said, trying to sound reassuring. And it was true, Steven's power was to release telepathic mental energy pulses in a ripple around his body. He could access telepathy, but it was never something he had a true aptitude for. He took after Michael's father in that way.
"I spoke with Professor Xavier. He said that they are thinking of postponing the trial. You know, until the new law gets passed."
"Right." Christian made a tsking sound with his teeth. "I have to finish this for Tommy. But call me when you get home."
"Right. Love you, bye."
"Love you too." Christian hung up the phone and Michael used his telekinesis to turn the key in the ignition. He pulled out the of the hospital's parking lot and onto the high way. Home meant something different tonight. It didn't mean home with his roommates, Collin and Alice. It didn't mean home ten minutes from Christian and fifteen from the Institute. Today home meant Mr. and Mrs. Brosley. Mom and Dad.
He went over the details in his head again. Steven had been seeing things. Tormented by visions of fire and brimstone, phantom smells that caused him to react out of anger, out of fear. In the end he had fired off his mental pulse in the middle of a crowded concert venue. Michael wasn't sure how many people had been killed, or left catatonic, their minds fried from the sheer energy of the pulse.
And with Senator Elizabeth Voss and her new mutant hazard law on the Senate floor...things just didn't look good for his brother.
Michael's headlights paved over the asphalt driveway, and burred into the white garage door. His mother was waiting for him on the porch, no doubt having "heard" his mental stress from several miles away.
"You were like a neon sign," she said, touching his face gently. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, just you know, the same." Michael shrugged and dropped his bag on the landing of the stairs. He hadn't spent significant time in his childhood home since he was thirteen years old, the year he found out he could hear the thoughts of his friends and family and make objects fly across the room. He had been back briefly the summer before he went to NYU, and then again before he quit the X-Men and signed on with Nick Fury's Stargate Initiative.
"Dad and Dana are eating dinner. I made chicken and mashed potatoes. Go make yourself a plate." Michael wished he could bottle these moments and bring them back to the Xavier Institute with him.
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Post by Chance on Jun 8, 2014 22:20:03 GMT -5
Caity slipped her phone into her pocket. She smiled remembering the awkward conversation she had had with Mindwarp during their freshman year at NYU.
"So umm...now that we're freshmen...what if we, you know, start communicating with phone, instead of, you know, being inside of each other's heads all the time." A direct telepathic link made sense at Xavier's, and it especially made sense out in the field. But in the dorms and around Washington Square Park, the constant telepathic companion was not only freaky, but also pretty invasive. No sock on the doorknob for your telepathic friend.
"Sure. That makes a lot of sense." With that Mindwarp had severed the telepathic link between them. They turned it back on every so often, like the time Professor Xavier manifested in the entity known as Onslaught and attacked their freshman dorm, and the time that Caity had to fight off Mr. Sinister and the Marauders the night Obama got elected. But for the most part the duo had kept their primary form of communication to the kind that beeps in your pocket.
"Is Steven okay?" Chance asked, putting out his cigarette with his heel.
"Mike says he is recovering at St. Martin's."
Chance nodded his head and took a sip form his cup of coffee. Caity hated to admit how damn good he looked, sitting there at the small cafe table, his leather jacket slung over the back of his chair, his biceps big tennis balls under the black sleeves of his t-shirt.
"Keep staring and I'll have to charge," Eric said eying her over the lip of his cup.
"Please." Caity tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder and turned her attention back to the moleskin notebook between them.
"Notice anything about the patterns?" Eric asked, his green eyes peaking out from under his blond bangs.
"Girls. Ages 14 to 17, mutants. Just manifesting their powers. This creep doesn't have a shockingly original MO."
"What did Charles have to say?"
"Professor X thinks the serial killer's one guy. Mid-twenties, white. He got some psychic feedback from the last victim, a quick glimpse." Caity touched her temple and shared the hazy image of a scruffy blond man in a Yankees baseball hat with Eric.
"Could be anyone." Eric shook his head to clear the image. He hated this part of the job, when the perp reminded him of himself.
"You're not the bad guy anymore." Caity said blankly. Eric's eyes narrowed.
"We're in close proximity. I can't help it. I can hear everything you're thinking."
Eric frowned and looked away. "You were never on my side, Syphon. Not even when we were on Alpha Squad."
Now it was Caity's turn to frown. It's true, Caity had always given Eric a difficult time. She wasn't too keen on defectors. And she was even less sympathetic to people who ever sided with Magneto.
"A lot has happened since Alpha Squad." Caity lowered her eyes to the black scrawl on the pages of the notebook.
The past two years had been rough. After Caity and Michael graduated NYU they returned to the X-Men. It was only a couple of days before Michael's past associates at Stargate had opened an Astral portal at the Institute, pulling all psychics into the Astral Plane. After they survived that, Michael decided to go to Brown University and get his masters degree, while Syphon and Chance were upgraded to Xavier's X-Men, a new elite squad that would take the X-Men's cause to the streets. No more hiding behind expensive iron gates. No more waiting for the enemies to come to them.
And now they were hot on the trail of a mutant serial killer, and a string of vicious murders, each more heinous than the last.
"He takes a trophy from each victim." Caity reminded Eric, steering the conversation back onto ground she felt more comfortable on. "The horns from vic #1, the scales from vic #2. Always organic, always linked to the victim's powers."
"What do we think he's doing with them?"
"That's exactly what we need to find out."
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Post by Chance on Jun 9, 2014 20:00:48 GMT -5
Caity stopped running and looked at the glowing digits on the face of her watch.
<I'm trying to get a read on him!> She shouted telepathically into Chance's head.
<I can't see him anywhere...I'm upping my chances as we speak, but nothing seems to be changing. Do you think this confirms Radial's prediction?>
Caity found herself wincing at the mention of Radial's name.
<Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.> Caity hated that her powers didn't function in the two-way mirror fashion of most other telepaths. When she was inside of someone's head they could just as easily read her mind and see into her thoughts.
<No big,> Caity said, turning her attention to the city around her. She wasn't like Mindwarp, she couldn't just hold a finger to her temple and listen in on everyone's thoughts. She didn't have those sorts of long range capabilities.
<Wait a minute.> Chance hesitated, shifted direction, and started running down a narrow alley way, jumping a fence and kicking through a door that was "luckily" unlocked. <I think I got something, a lucky feeling. I'm going to follow my gut.>
Now Caity was running again. She pumped her legs and rocketed in Eric's direction. After training with Mindwarp and, surprisingly, Emma Frost, Caity had learned to push her traditional three meter range to a good twenty meters when she needed it. Now she was jimmying up a fire escape trying to keep Eric in range. But suddenly something felt off, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
<Eric!> Caity sent out a psychic scream, and Eric spun left, rolling across the concrete as a knife sliced through the air.
<Got him!> Eric yelled, the blue energy of his psionic shield humming to life.
Caity stopped running and tried to slow her breathing. Soon she was staring out of Eric's eyes, and into the bright blue orbs of a blond guy in a Yankees hat. She tried to catch sight of Eric's surroundings, but it was too dark and Eric's shield was up. Getting through his psionic energy made her telepathy cloudy. Caity took a deep breath, turned around, and headed back down the fire escape.
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Post by Midnight on Aug 16, 2015 22:13:48 GMT -5
Shit. Shit!
Shade didn't know the purple-haired person behind her, didn't know the guy in the Yankees hat down the next ally. Yankees were overrated, something in her dark mind told her. Focus.
She barreled down another street, leaping on top of a dumpster, swinging from a fire escape. That was... fun? She wondered when in life she had become an adrenaline junkie. Her heart pumped as she pounded down the street in her worn-out shoes, and with every beat something made her come alive.
That had to be seriously messed up.
Gotta hide. Gotta hide the eyes. Her eyes were weird, she knew, red on black, and for some reason, that could get her in trouble.
Black. No. She wouldn't use the darkness until she had to.
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