[X-Men: This Is The Future] Semi Lit RP ~ Finished

Which of these Marvel heroes is the best?

The Uncanny X-Men	56.8%	[ 25 ]
The Amazing Spider-Man	4.5%	[ 2 ]
The Fantastic Four	4.5%	[ 2 ]
The Mighty Thor	15.9%	[ 7 ]
The Invincible Iron Man	15.9%	[ 7 ]
The Incredible Hulk	2.3%	[ 1 ]
Total Votes:			[ 44 ]

[Dr Vladagonapus]

❖ "People fake a lot of human interactions, but I feel like I fake them all,
and I fake them well. That’s my burden, I guess."

»⋰ »⋰ » xxv a d e ri [ R O S M - 0 0 1 ] io' r e i l y

"Francis!!!" The cyborg paused in his work, his head turning upwards towards the ceiling. His CPU replayed the scream a couple times before quickly identifying the voice as his creator's. ROSM set the broom and dustpan down without a second thought process and left Francis' lab. The machine ignored the fact that he could be seen, Sam's safety far more important than it. He ran passed the elevators, heading straight for the stairs. His heavy footfalls making quite a bit of noise as he practically took two steps at a time. He swung the door open expecting to see his creator injured or fighting someone off. ROSM paused just seeing Sam walking to her closet with a reddened face and dampened cheeks. She looked over to the cyborg quickly at his sudden entrance, her eyes a little wide. In two long strides he was standing in front of the physicist, his HUD changing into his x-ray option. No broken or fractured bones, no internal bleeding. His vision returned to its original setting as he grabbed her head turning it this way and that. "Hey!" At first she flailed her arms at the uncomfortable action, and then just pushed herself away from the cyborg. "No sign of brain trauma." Instead of an angry look, Sam looked puzzled. "You let out a cry of distress." ROSM replied to explain his actions. His creator just nodded and turned back to her closet, grabbing her clothes for the day. Knowing now that nothing was physically wrong with the blonde scientist his CPU analyzed that it had to be something emotional.

"Your eyes." He motioned to her recently cried out eyes. ROSM recalled seeing her like this before, though the occurrence previously seemed less significant. "You said it was nothing....Its gotten worse." Sam set her clothes out on top of the bed and turned to ROSM, her eyes still stung from crying so hard. "It...it was just a really bad dream." The cyborg tilted his head to the right for a moment. "About Francis." Even though it sort of sounded like a question Sam knew it wasn't. She nodded and studied her husband's lookalike for a few moments. The cyborg's appearance made her happy...yet sad at the same time. It was great being in Francis' presence but then she remembered that this wasn't him, just a cybernetic organism made to look like him. Samantha started to rethink making ROSM with Francis' appearance, but she knew that she did it in one of her rare emotional times. His CPU started to process the information he'd learned so far about his creator's watery eyes. So far he'd come to the conclusion that emotional pain caused it...at least for her it seemed. He already knew that at other times humans cried when physical pain became too much to bare. "What...was the dream?" He asked almost hesitantly it sounded. Sam's expression saddened, she really didn't want to talk about it and was half tempted to scold ROSM for even asking. But she knew he was only curious, wanting more information to better understand the world he was built into.

Sam to a seat on the end of her bed, her hands cupped together on her lap. "There.....was blood everywhere. He laid lifeless....eyes open....clothes torn up like he was in a fight...." Sam found herself unable to give as much detail as she normal would have been able to if this was merely a common nightmare or dream. Her eyes began to tear up again as ROSM stepped closer, standing at the side of the bed watching her expressions and motions....studying her. "The light in his eyes was gone.........I just hugged him..." Fresh tears dropped down her face and over her cheeks, her shoulders shook faintly as she began to sob quietly. ROSM now understood why Samantha made him. He wasn't created to protect her physically as he was made to protect her emotionally. He was the wall between her and having to experience the real feelings of loss. The cyborg felt something that could be classified as regret for asking about the nightmare...but if he hadn't asked...he may not have fully understood his purpose for being now. He was actually proud to have such an important mission. It quarantined him a continuous existence, for as long as Sam or someone near her needed a guardian he'd be needed or even wanted. Though his CPU transmitted this as a good reason to exist he couldn't help but wonder if he could do other things as well. So far it seemed he could, as Sam let him do as he pleased most of the time as long as he remained hidden for the rest of the occupants of the mansion.

Another question that had been on hold for some time came up in his CPU, but at the moment Sam seemed to melancholy to even try to answer. ROSM looked around for a moment not sure what to do in this situation at all. Various videos and advice websites flashed before his eyes on his HUD before the cyborg took a seat next to the human woman. He almost nervously rubbed her back lightly, patting it occasionally the action made Sam look back up at him. Her expression was one of astonishment. Sam had expected her creation to learn quickly, but he seemed to also understand things at almost the same pace. A smile tugged at her lips, making the cyborg stop rubbing her back with a sincere expression. "Thank you." She said softly as ROSM simply nodded. "Can I ask another question?" Sam wiped the last tears off her cheeks and nodded, a little surprised that he didn't just proceed asking in the first place. "Why you look like Francis?" The physicist asked for him, making the cyborg arch up his right eyebrow. He nodded firmly, this question had been on hold since he first noticed that he shared his secondary creators appearance. "I hadn't planned on it originally. I was just going to build you hyperalloy endoskeleton. But after re-watching the Terminator series...I decided to give you your own physical features....The Francis got called away from a mission by S.H.I.E.L.D. He wasn't able to say what it was about and isn't allowed to call. After a couple weeks....I suppose...I." Sam started to fidget, she had never felt lonely or depressed before Francis left. "Well...I got lonely...I missed seeing him all the time." She looked back to ROSM, a small smile on her lips. "So...I gave you his looks in hopes that I wouldn't feel that way anymore. And so far...it's only helped a little." ROSM nodded slowly and stood up, walking back over to the door. "Shall I finish his gift?" Sam stood up as well and shook her head no. "I'd....like to work on it together some more. Give you a chance to ask more questions." With that Sam picked up her clothes and walked into her bathroom, shutting the door. ROSM stayed where he was for a few moments before taking his seat again on the end of the bed, his CPU processing all that he's learned so far.

❖ "All you can do is play along at life,
and hope that sometimes you get it right."

XXXXXX

IP Address: X-Mansion - Sam's & Francis' BedroomXXXTelecommunication Systems Functioning: SamXXXPlace Of Origin: X-Men
Suitable Clothing: light blue polo, beige pants & blk shoesXXXDecibel Overload: Derezzed Reconfigured // Alive // Tron Legacy: End Titles // Skynet Symphonic

(( Obssession over coffee: Will do a Sam posty as soon as I'm able ))

[Iron Vadim]

Loki Laufeyson >>> [ Trickster / God ]

Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
There's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said "You're blind, too blind to see"

~ * ~

Loki honestly stared surprised at Ainsley for a moment. He wasn't really used to praise, people usually reacted to his magical pranks with consternation and scorn. He had more expected a reaction like 'Oh my god, change it back, now!' These Midgardians were full of interesting surprises, really. They were certainly more of a mystery than most Asgardians. Who knew? Well, maybe that's why Thor spent so much time on Midgard...

He remembered himself and scraped his throat "Well, yes. ... Actually, no, they haven't, really. But I know it of myself. I really am ama-ack!" He was interrupted mid-sentence by a blob of icecream hitting him in the side of his face. Loki stared incredulously at the girl. Anger rose in him but for a moment. He knew he should be angry for a mortal daring to attack a 'God' like that, but ... then she giggled like that and the rage seemed to melt away like the icecream was doing on his face.

Instead, Loki grinned widely and gathered up icecream in his own hands "Oh, you made a big mistake, girly." Despite the words, his smile was devious and his tone was playful rather than threatening. Still, that was a large amount of icecream he was holding as he heaved it up and moved to dump it all on Ainsley.

[Cooking Sherry]

What in the WORLD was going on? It was like Hell was breaking loose all around him. If he were more conscious than he currently was, he might have tried better to fend off Billy's attempts to get close to Lottie. After all, the man had brought them straight to this cretin. For all he knew, this whole ordeal could have been a genius farce plotted form the beginning. Acting as Lottie's friend, acting as an amnesiac, all to get them here. But suddenly, that theory was also falling to pieces.

He gripped his abdomen as his stomach churned needfully, acids finally returning to the organ, but with hardly any saliva coating the sides to protect it. "Ahhhnn...!" He cringed, breaking a sweat and dropping his head, hardly even able to move to touch Lottie, or fend off these disgusting men. It took all of the power in him to look up at Abe, watching as the man seemed to perfectly manipulate Billy, twisting the man's mind around his fingers. And then, he knew there would be terrible issues. If this really was the end... no... He reached out one violently shaking hand towards Lottie, giving a pained growl.

But Billy was already acting, taking her far away from him, and even as he tried to crawl after her, he just couldn't make it! He was suffering far too much. His mouth surged like a hot waterfall, his lips the only barrier to keep himself from drooling. But he couldn't help it. He felt so sick, ready to puke. To drain his stomach of the harmful natural substance and give it a chance to prepare itself. He sniffed haphazardly as Billy charged towards him, preparing to fight but, but it was all for not. His body wouldn't even so much as respond to him.

He was up on his feet by Billy's demanding grip, stumbling uselessly after him, like a wet noodle dangling. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't pull away, and the moemnt he was shoved out the door, he collapsed straight down onto the hard wood floor. The cold, hard wood floors. Oooh, the cold felt wonderful. He dropped his eyes closed and breathed, twitched time and time again, trying to suppress his anguish all at the same time. "Lottie..." He murmured, not even trying to search for her with his eyes. "My lady... my phone... the... right pocket. Pull it out. Emergency dial number three."

[Ghost Tornado]

« • »

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Feeling :: Tired « ✗ » Seeing :: X-Mansion Kitchen « ✗ » Wearing :: X-Men Uniform

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Lucas glanced at the man curiously, with a hint of suspicion. If he wasn't a student, who was he? Before he got a chance to ask, the boy was startled as he was wrapped in a tight hug, causing his gold armor to envelop him out of sheer instinct. He smiled brightly at the red-haired girl, patting her on the back. The girl surprised him once again, placing a kiss on his cheek, his face turning a deep red, which combined with his gold-colored skin gave way to a similar shade of sunny orange as the girl's hair. "I...uhhh...thanks," he mumbled, unsure of how to react.

Once Jo let go, he looked between the two of them, uncomfortable over the revelation that both had broken in, and that it was apparently easy to do so. "Good to know. Because no one ever wants to hurt mutants..." he sighed. The boy had experienced first hand the cruelty people could have towards mutants. Almost died because of it. And if this school was supposed to be a safe haven, you'd think they could spring out the cash for some decent locks. Maybe get Sam's scary robot to patrol the grounds...

Pushing it from his mind, Lucas turned to the fridge, opening the door. "D'you want some breakfast, Jo?" he called back to her, helping himself to a glass of milk, and then grabbed a can of Mountain Dew for her. He closed the door behind him with his foot, and slid over to the counter, hopping onto a stool. As he gathered a small stack of pancakes, he turned back to Adrian. "Sooooo...Why are you here then?," he said, cocking an eyebrow. "Sorry for being rude, but when people randomly show up here, they're usually more interested in blowing up the school than cooking."

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OOC // ;; none

[CeruleanBlue]

The Princess
..Issabelle Lottie Holloway..

.

... forever I remain ...

..,:;"little girl little girl / dolly black, don't you think its time to be coming back?";:,..

Lottie landed in a heap outside and in the hall way. Tristan soon landed on top of her. He seemed to be shaking and making discomforted noises. Why had she been focusing on that blasted idiot. Billy was not her friend he would never be her friend. Why had she even tried, it was not as if she needed Billy's friendship. No, Tristan was the only one she needed the only one that matter to the small child. He was her only concern from now on, and forever.

The child twisted and pulled herself from under Tristan. The adrinelan rush from her powers taking her over so violently was begining to ware off. His obvious pain made her ill, but the little one was afraid to try to heal him lest she completely wipe herself out. "...tristan.' She moved to cradled the young man's head in her lap. Lottie smothed his long bangs from his face. Her little hands were cool on his burning skin. Soon he would fully heal himself. He would be like lottie, a mutant with perfect health and frightful powers. The recovering man spoke to her shakeily, telling her in soft words to retrive his phone. Lottie reached over Tristan and into her butler's pocket, finding the small cell with a happy kitty charm. The girl did as her companion instructed.

Lottie was not quite sure what to do with the phone afterward, thinking that her faithfulfriend would instruct her. As they waited the child helped Tristan up as they were able to. She held to him, trying her best to help him up. "Tristan.... I am so sorry... " she sniffled her eyes fell from his not able to look him in the eye her shame for what she had done too great. "...so sorry. I should not have trusted him. This would have never happened... if I had not left your side in the mall... This is all my fault. " She confessed to the man.

[Dr Henry McCoy]

✡ "Evil done cannot be undone." ✡

Stephen Strange
M.D

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Stephen Strange had just spotted a familiar blue figure in the distance by the lake that sat in the Mansion grounds, about to hail the man that had asked him here on this rather chilly morning, when the communicator built into the front door crackled into life, the man - or rather, dragon - he had been asked here to help answering his call. He inclined his head at the unfortunate's thanks, knowing this was a thankless appointment and that pride in his work would cost him dear; he could not afford to be arrogant or complacent as Sorcerer Supreme. "Thanks and favors are not necessary, Black - I do this as one defender of the earth to another." With that, he stepped back from the door and turned to survey nature in all its infinite wintery majesty, the tress gowned in fine white dress, the ground softly blanketed and warm beneath a quilt of snow, the lake a prism through which one could see the forces of the world at work. It was at times like these, times of repose and tranquility, that Strange could appreciate his efforts - they were his rewards for work unending, second only to those individuals whose lives he had snatched from the fiery grasps of forces most demonic and dark. His quiet was, however, quickly shot through by the sound of heavy, excited limbs upon the Mansion floors, and he turned, knowing the dragon would be heading down the stairs with all the immediacy of a child on Christmas Day. An amusing image, though, as he glanced to his left, seeing the inanimate golem there, he knew this was likely to be one of the greatest gifts he could ever bestow - life, in all its foibles and intricacies and terrors, for a young man who had had his life cut short. Strange's expression darkened as the thought of the white ghoul who had wreaked so much destruction in so short a time, having caused trouble even for the Sorcerer Supreme - a lighthearted attempt at summoning a demon had left more than a little clean-up work for the man, but he had been unable, in the end, to secure the perpetrator, knowing him only as the Dark Beast. It would be a bright day indeed when the beast was finally capture, though he had to wonder.
Could any prison contain such a creature?

Such thoughts quickly left the man as the last few steps made themselves known to his ears and the door to the Mansion opened, revealing the aptly named Black - his scales were as black as the soul of Dormammu himself, his height impressive; but not daunting. Stephen Strange, master of the mystic arts had, after all, faced down far greater foes and emerged triumphant, despite the forces arrayed against him - as was his job. But he had no fear of such a confrontation here - they were allies, if only though bonds of the loosest fraternity. "I am indeed Doctor Strange - there are no tricks or energies at work to conceal my person." The Eye of Agamotto, hung around his neck as an ordinary enough pendant, flashed for but a moment and revealed the Sorcerer in all his glory, red robes flowing as if by some energy known only by masters most mystic. Another flash, and he returned to the rather dapper, if less intimidating and impressive, three piece suit and trenchcoat. "There are no apologies needed - Doctor McCoy has explained your circumstances in some depth; I, too, know what it is to lose one's self." Dark memories played at the edges of Strange's mind, but he bade them gone, escaping their tremulous grasp upon him with ease - such things did not trouble him any longer. He accepted Black's invitation with a polite nod, entering the rather tasteful foyer of the Xavier Mansion with his typical composure - by contrast, it was only a tweak of the hand that stopped the golem from walking into the door, guided as it was only by purely geometric ideas of travel. Namely, it walked only in straight lines - which was to be expected; movement was, after all, an unappreciated difficulty for most. It was only those who found themselves harrowed by disability that knew the effort that went into independent movement - and knew its value. The dragon began to talk again, and Strange drew his attention back to it, face remaining as impassive as ever."I have learned to expect everything as Sorcerer Supreme - although, I shall freely admit, your case is certainly unique, and were it not for the circumstances that surround your death, I would not be so amicable in its reversal.
As it is, however, you were taken before your time - and now, you shall be returned, whole, if not quite the same as you were."

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Doctor Strange
Sorcerer Supreme

☧ "I stand before you as master of the mystic arts, Sorcerer Supreme!" ☧

[Sweet_lil_Cherryhead]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Priscilla Ainsley Parker xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxDoe Eyes xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ainsley tried to suppress her giggles as she saw the anger momentarily flash through Loki's eyes, however, she saw it vanish. This surprised her. Watching as Loki picked up his own mound of ice cream, the blonde took a few step back, her laughter starting back up. "Now Loki... you can be the better person here... you don't have to -EEP-" The large pile of strawberry ice cream was dumped on her, swirling her blonde hair with the pink dessert. Pushing her hair out of her face, she gasped as the cold slid into her sweater. Grinning equally as devious as Loki had been, she grinned. "Oh, this is definitely on." The next thing Ainsley's slender fingers grabbed was a handful of mint chocolate chip ice cream, most likely once a green car, taking quick aim, she hoped for another peg to the dark haired god's face. She then dashed, plucking a marshmallow from what used to be a bench, and aimed that too... Okay, that one just bounced off his armor, but she was sure he got the point. Scooping up a heaping of jelly drops, she crouched behind a giant cube of Turkish delight, she waited for the tall man to come closer, planning to pelt him with the small candies.

xxxxx

[Dr Henry McCoy]

☢ "Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent." ☢

Henry "Hank" McCoy
M.D., Ph.D, Ed.D, Sc.D, D.Chem, Litt.D, D.Eng, Psy.D

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Hank watched with a pleased smile as he drew a chuckle from Olina with the theatricality with which he introduced himself, glad it had acheived the desired effect, and was similarly glad to see that she had enjoyed the cake; one of Siv's creations, if he remembered rightly, which made him chuckle, realizing just how much of an experience living in a Mansion with Siv's goodies lying around was likely to be for someone 'uninitiated' (as it were) like Olina. He also caught the small smile that his confirmation of the stability of Hal's overall condition evoked, making note of it - she seemed rather concerned for someone she had only met the once for what sounded like a few minutes, but then again, bonds forged under such pressures were often very strong indeed. His walking companion then seemed to pause for a moment, presumably collating all the information she had to hand on the mysterious blue man lying in their infirmary, and while it was small, short on detail and rather circumstantial, every little, as the saying went, helped. That he had called himself by their shared surname and talked of a doctorate, he felt reasonably certain they could rule out the 'mad escaped clone without any memory' possibility, which was rather a relief - even if it did rather raise a great many other issues and questions. Especially the fact that his mutation turned his skin blue - and Olina said it in such a way that it implied it wasn't always blue; that he had somehow transformed, and in front of a complete stranger, indicating no shame about such a thing. Interesting that his mutation had taken hold in such a manner - it thus seemed reasonable to assume that it hadn't happened under quite the same circumstances that the others had, perhaps accounting for the difference; after all, alternate universes came and went, but genetics usually stayed the same between them. Heh. A doctor. It continued to amuse and indeed comfort him that in every universe he had come into contact with had him as the doctor, the learned man - if not always the healer, as Dark Beast was plain evidence of. It still gave him hope, however - hope that he was indeed more man than monster.
And hope like that was always welcome.

It was then that Hank's attention turned fully back to Olina, more than capable of reading the guilt on her features, and he turned sympathetic yellow orbs onto her, smiling somewhat sadly as she laid down her fork. He took her free hand and squeezed it lightly, feeling the cold fresh warm as his fuzzy blue fur gave her some of his heat - as remarkable and envy-worthy as it was, he truly didn't feel the cold at all, and he was more than willing to share some of that property with others. His smile turned from sympathetic to comforting, and he rubbed a thumb over Olina's knuckles, hoping his words would comfort her. "Olina . . . you aren't an X-Man. You aren't a member of SHIELD, an Avenger, a Defender - what you are, is a non-combatant. And I wish more mutants were like that - I wish more of us had time to simply ramble and play guitar. It's just that sometimes life happens, and people are thrown into situations they, by rights, shouldn't have to be involved in. And when those people are faced with difficulty, and when they have to make decisions, of course they're going to make uninformed ones - of course they're going to take the person acting like they know what they're doing at their word. It's not being naive, or being stupid - it's just a case of simple human psychology. It's how we work, it's how we operate - we follow orders under pressure, we buckle under pressure; it's not a case of being cowardly or weak, it's a case of things being unpredictable when our lives are on the line and we see a way out. So please. Don't feel guilty, or as if you were weak, because you aren't and you weren't. Now please." Hank pressed a kiss to the back of the hand he had taken in his paw, beaming at Olina as he did so, even tickling the back of her knuckles in a moment of mischief. "You have an extremely pretty face, and an extremely pleasing smile, so please combine the two. It really will make you feel better. As a doctor, I do indeed prescribe smiles."
Corny, definitely. Effective? Hopefully.

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Beast

∮"Oh my stars and garters . . ."∮

[Wrathchild 138]

Unknown to Paul at the time, his once strong psychiclink with Lottie had re-emerged when they crossed paths again, he felt her sadness and horror and sense of helplessness which prompted him to hurry down the iron spiral staircase inside his apartment. Sitting in the first floor, all of which was a garage, sat his old 85 IROC-Z that he still kept from their time together, albeit a different animal entirely with several performance upgrades still maintaining the stock appearance of the car itself.

Opening the door, he tossed his denim jacket in and insert the keys into the ignition, firing up the engine. Picking up the electornic door opener from his cupholder, he clicked it then set the device aside, taking hold of the ratchet race shifter and throwing it back tearing out of there like a drag racer leaving the line. Planting the gas pedal into the floor he concentrated on Lottie, feeling what she felt as if he were moving his hand across a piece of fabric. He pinpointed her location and proceeded to swing the car into a parking spot, jumping out of it, he slid into his jacket just before heading up the fire escape and found himself infront of the window.

Pulling a small cylindrical object from his pocket, he cut a perfect circle in the window and removed that particular piece of glass, reaching his arm in, he unlocked the window and pushed it up, swinging his leg into the apartment and pulling the rest of his body inside. "Lottie!" he called out entering the room to see she and Tristan together, she was distraught as Tristan was squirming on the floor, obviously in a great deal of pain. Kneeling down, Paul placed his hand over Tristan's eyes and closed his own, taking in his memories. He saw everything that had happened within a few seconds and removed his hand, standing back up.

Location: Downtown Boston
Mutant Power(s): Healing Factor, Telepathy
Interaction: Lottie, Tristan
Mood: Worried
Medical Status: Healthy

[Wrathchild 138]

"Right here Tony," walking up in his civilian clothes was Steven Rogers, dressed down from his Captain's garb for the time being. Beast had been kind enough to offer he and Thor shetler until Tony had arrived, he decided to get a little more comfortable and freshen up with a shower. The civilian attire was to to avoid any questions from the students, he didn't like talking about his work lest it was with those who did similar things. Coming from Iron Man's left, Steve had his hands tucked in the pockets of a pair of jeans, he was wearing a white t-shirt and some desert colored combat boots. "None of the telepaths or the tracker mutants are here, so that's another deadend. Soon as we finish up here I wanna go see if S.H.I.E.L.D. has anyone on the payroll that can fill that role. Did you find anything from the prints?"

Chances are even the billionaire hadn't come up with anything, that was the answer Steve was bracing for, but even him preparing himself probably wouldn't lessen the blow. That maniac was still out there and they didn't have so much as a clue to what his identity was. Whoever he was, he was good, but perhaps not that good. Steve was banking on the possibility that like most criminals, this one had made a mistake, an overlook on his part when he'd fought that other mutant in the alleyway. His mistake could be their gain, Steve knew he had to keep the faith that somewhere along the line they were going to get a clue so they could either put him behind bars or more preferably, rid the world of his scum and villainy.

Interaction: Iron Man
Location: X-Mansion
Thoughts: Where there's a will, there's a way
Mood: Tired
Medical Status: Super Human

[Wrathchild 138]

The Ragin' Cajun as he was known throughout the mansion by many students, was living up to his nickname in prime fashion, no sooner than he'd come back from Cassidy's Keep, Remy had gone into the lower levels of the mansion where it was restricted to X-Men only. X-Men. Being a member of the team just didn't feel the way it used to ever since most of the veterans switched to Reserve, he understood being an X-Man could interfere with your personal life, but putting a bunch of kids in the field team? He didn't like it, didn't like it one bit, but of course as always he had no say so in it. Several years as a dedicated memory of the team, despite his occasional leave of absence, and he still had no say so about what went on in their ranks.

No matter, in about an hour or two all that frustration would fade away. The landscape of the room seemed to shift into that of a jungle, some open landscape but with quite a bit of trees around. Reaching into his jacket, Gambit pulled three cards and charged them, waiting for his enemy to present themselves. He didn't have to wait long as he was already hearing the thunderous footsteps when three Sentinels came knocking trees out of their way to get at him. "Bonjour, Monsieur Sentinels!" he said, throwing the cards at each of them's chests. Exploding upon impact, the Sentinels fell, but much to his dismay, they got right back up.

"Ho ho," he chuckled, "looks like Beast did some upgrading. Das ok though, Gambit just getting warmed up!" as he reached into his jacket for more cards, something knocked him off his feet and flat onto his feet. Turning over onto his match, he watched as two more Sentinels landed infront of him. Ripping five more from his trenchcoat, Gambit snatched one with the other hand and threw it at one Sentinel's kneecap, after blowing it to bits, the robot began tumbling forward off balance. Gambit reacted by throwing another card into it's opened mouth and jumping away before it exploded.

Rolling, he stopped to throw another at the newly arrived Sentinel's head. As it fell back, the other three with holes in their chests converged on his position, one lifting it's foot to crush him. Throwing a card into the bottom of it's foot, Gambit crippled this one as well, causing it to fall back on it's comrades. The final card he tossed on top of the pile into the top Sentinel's chest hole, causing it to explode and take it's mechanical brothers with it. Gambit quickly drew more cards as he waited for the next wave to arrive. A smirk crossed his face. This was what he lived for. Danger. Excitement.

Location: X-Mansion, Danger Room
Mutant Power(s): Molecular Acceleration
Interaction: No one
Mood: Excited
Medical Status: Feeling good, mon ami

[Cooking Sherry]

Lottie knew just how to charm him. He eyes drew closed, his body trying to relax. And she was calling his emergency contact, an old friend of the family that could pick them up, he was sure. One of the kindest and most brilliant minds a man could know. He weakly reached a hand up, gripping her hand and his phone at once, bringing it to his ear. And he waited for the man to pick up. "Malachi. Remember that favor that you owe me? Now would be a wonderful time for me to redeem it. Could you pick me up from the corner if 1st and April? Much appreciated, old friend." That was the end of that conversation. Now, now he had to hand up the phone if he could, because his muscles were the next target to being revived. They all stung, healing, tensing, tearing amd rebuiling in one extreme workout that forced him panting for air and losing all of his composure beside Lottie. "Let... Let us... Get downstairs, my lady..."

(edited to add that first paragraph.)

Another unfamiliar male voice filled the hall, and immediately Tristan went on the defensive. The butler was up, his back to Lottie with one arm behind himself KEEPING her there. He could not trust any of her friends. Not after the betrayal they had just been submitted to. But he was hardly able to fight, he would do so in the means of keeping his precious Lottie safe!

He shuddered back againat the man's grip, watching him carefully. The moment the man touched his forehead, Tristan had felt.something... Weird. A weird sort of pull. So he swatted the hand away to the side with his right hand, just before gripping the back of the whole wrist with the same hand, his left flying out to grip the back of the man's elbow to complerely lock the arm in place, just before yanking the limb close to himself and twisting his body, throwing off all of the balance the man didn't have, and sending him harmlesaly to the floor.

If all went well, Tristan would be kneeling beside the face-down man in the end, holding his arm to the floor and raising his.wrist above it all in order to cause him quite a bit of pain in warning. "Who are you? And what do you want with my lady?"

Despite being a corpse in the middle of a painful reanimation, Tristan was pulling off all of the moves in order to save what he had failed to protect before. He would NEVER make that mistake again.

[Wrathchild 138]

Had this been anyone else flipping him onto the floor he'd of broken their damn arm and proceeded to give them the beating of a lifetime; but this was Tristan, Lottie's caretaker, the same man that Paul had known as a boy. Scoffing, Paul shut his eyes and dug deep into his own mind, searching out the memories he needed from 1985 to 1990, the years he'd been with Lottie the first time, all the times he'd taken care of her, helped her then butler whom was either Tristan's Father or Grandfather, he couldn't remember. Even telepaths forgot some things overtime. Nevertheless, these memories would find themselves in Tristan's mind and he would recall their first meeting, Tristan was a young boy, Paul a leather clad guy with spiked hair and a white t-shirt who liked like he was related to Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols ruffling the young man's hair and smiling.

Slowly opening his eyes, Paul remained in this awkward position, though he desperately wanted to dislocate his shoulder so he could pull free then roll Tristan over onto his back so he could see that for one Paul wasn't a pushover and two that he didn't take kindly to being put down on the floor when his intentions were genuinely good. "Y'know...I'll humor you and let you think you've got the upper hand; but if you don't get off me within the next oh say, 2 minutes, I'm going to knock you flat on your a**. I've had a long 24 hours and I'm really not in the mood for the bullshit. Hopefully that flood of memories should've told you I have no ill intentions toward Lottie"

Location: Downtown Boston
Mutant Power(s): Healing Factor, Telepathy
Interaction: Lottie, Tristan
Mood: Annoyed
Medical Status: Healthy

[Sweet_lil_Cherryhead]

Ӧȴinɐ Јεɐniε Dɐѵis
"ζiʈʈȴε Ɍεd"
ζoѵεɐu

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Olina eyes met Hanks when she felt his large paw take her hand, instantly warming it. The feeling of his thumb running over her boney tickled a bit. Glancing from her hand, up into his eyes, Olina's cyan eyes watched Hank as he spoke. His words made sense, and they definitely helped. She knew she couldn't completely blame herself for what had happened. She had been a bit scared... And to find out it had just been some kind of joke by some bored scientist had only made it worse for her. Olina hated to be played like a fool. When she heard Hank just about finish his statement, and pressed his lips to her hand, laying a kiss on it, and tickling the flesh even more, making her hand fidgeted a little as she giggled. The last of his words brought a wide grin to her lips and another blush over her face. "Thank you. That really does mean a lot Hank... and I'll definitely try and remember that prescription." She said with a wink. Leaning in, she placed a kiss on his cheek and gave his paw a little squeeze before pulling away. They had already made a lap around the lake, which almost surprised the red head. She hadn't thought it had been but a few moments... Grinning back up at Hank, she nodded her head toward the door. "Well, unless you wouldn't mind me stealing some of that warmth of yours, how about we head in?" It really was getting chilly, and if her nose wasn't wrong, it would probably end up snowing again. Turning on the heel of her boot, Olina made a careful track back to the mansion, trying to avoid any widen dips. Once inside, she slipped off her boots and hat. Putting them by the door with other peoples stuff that needed to dry out after playing in the snow.

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ϝoяɱ1 ... ϝoяɱ2