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| Arise; Jean, Thunderbolts upon request | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 14 2009, 05:18 AM (461 Views) | |
| Logan | Dec 14 2009, 05:18 AM Post #1 |
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Unregistered
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Time: 8 PM Date: Two days after "The Town" "Patch." His eyes fluttered open slowly and he stared upwards into a light. The light was rather blinding, causing him to squint his eyes in response. James attempted to sit up, but found himself unable to. He closed his eyes again, weariness overwhelming him in an unusual way. "Patch." His name reverberated through his mind again, this time louder than before. James opened his eyes again, and found that the light above his head was now dark. How long had he just layed there? He sat up slowly, now finding himself quite capable of doing so, and looked around the room. It was a dimly lit hospital room. Perhaps it was an infirmary of some sort. Raising an arm up, he looked to the I.V. that was in his arm and then towards the stand next to his bed, where several different bags of fluids were hanging. Perhaps simple antibiotics or something of that nature. He wasn't sure. Whatever it was, it was going to come out of his arm now. James yanked the I.V. from his arm and threw it aside. He then swung his legs off of the bed and stood, pulling the sticky electrodes off of his chest. The monitor next to his bed flatlined and started beeping. He knew they'd be coming now. Not but a few seconds later, a couple of nurses walked into his room and flipped on the light. "He's awake," one said. A doctor entered the room behind the nurse. Armed security was following him in. "He looks... normal," the doctor said and then approached Patch cautiously. "I'm fine, bub. Just let me get out of here and find Jean," Patch ordered, pushing the doctor by the chest as he approached. The security behind the doctor held their rifles at the ready, almost as if they were expecting him to go wild again. "Look, one way or the other, I'm..." "Agent Patch, Jean did not survive... she... well she passed away during the mission," the doctor said in a gentle tone as if trying not to upset him. James looked between the different faces in the room for a moment and then shook his head negatively. Then who's voice was that? Someone just woke him up. Patch took a step towards the door but then stopped himself. "Tell me... How long have I been out?" he asked, glancing back to the doctor. "And where am I, exactly?" "Uh, you're on board a helicarrier... and you have been out for two days," the doctor answered. "And Jean is dead?" "Ye.... yes sir." The image of her dead body suddenly came back to his memory and Patch shook his head. The town they went to. The shit they encountered. Jean going wild. The last thing he could remember was her broken body on the ground... and then losing control. Did that girl really matter that much to him? "I need to see her," Patch finally said, calmly. He had been through a lot of shit in his day. He had seen a lot of friend's die. Jean... well... she was just another. Right? "Patch." That voice again. He wasn't imagining it. "Now." The doctor looked to the others and then back to James. "Well, she is the next floor down... she is in the morgue. Her remains are awaiting a specialist to arrive for examination and then I think they were going to ship them to her next of kin," the doctor said. James nodded, keeping a cool head through it all. "Yea... okay... walk me down there. I just need to see her again." "Sir, I really think you should lay back down for some rest... You might not be stable enough to..." "Look... I'm going down there. If you want to argue about it, you can argue with these," Patch said, holding up his hand and extending his adamantium claws. A few minutes later, the doctor was punching in the security code to let James into the morgue. He walked inside and then turned to the doctor, nodding once to indicate that he wanted to be alone. Once the door was closed behind him, James walked past several empty metal tables towards the one lone body bag in the room. He paused for a moment in front of it, looking down at the lifeless outline that the bag contained. This was the end of the road for most people. He felt that in this room. Death... and the smell of death came from the bag. The chill of the cold morgue was not helping the situation either. Patch sighed slowly, his breath forming into visible condensation in front of him, and then raised a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. This was going to be hard, but he needed to see her again. The thought of how he saw her before she died couldn't be the last image of her in his head. But then again, how could he know what condition her corpse was in? He lowered his head and remained silent for several moments with his eyes closed. In the darkness of his thoughts, her face suddenly came to him. Her eyes were black and fire was around her. "Jean?" his thoughts asked. The face turned towards him. It was the wild and uncontrolled Jean that he had saw in action in the Town. She looked consumed with hate and he knew right then that she could destroy him. In his mind, the form of Jean Grey drew very near to him - so close that he could feel the heat coming from her flesh. The woman's mouth opened slightly and spoke. "Patch." James' eyes came open quickly and he took a step back, half expecting the body bag to be open and Jean Grey to be coming towards him. But it only laid there... motionless. Almost as if in a hurry, he reached to the zipper at the head of the bag and drew it down to the waist, the long "zip" sound filling the empty room with a rather menacing noise. Patch opened the bag further with both hands and then gasped outloud as he saw Jean's corpse. The body was well preserved. The skin was rather pale, but did not look damaged from the battle. Her hair did not look as dried out and frail as other corpses that he had seen... but it was obvious that she was dead. Patch reached out to her with his right hand as he bent over the table, touching the corpses' cheek with his fingers. She was cold. "Jean," James said quietly. It was the only word he could think to speak. |
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| Jean | Dec 15 2009, 11:10 PM Post #2 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
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Patch Heat touched her cheek, a warmth that felt searing against her chilled flesh. Floating in a cold void of darkness, driven mad with anger and desperation, Jean reached for the warmth. His warmth. His strength. His vitality. Patch Gathering her strength in whatever Hell her thoughts occupied, she was a hurricane making its way to land. She didn’t know why she was doing this, flexing all her might, just that she had to… needed to; instincts that Patch had helped her hone and learn to trust screamed at her that if she wanted to live, she had to will herself alive again. Death be damned. Inside Jean’s cold body, the toxins from Avery’s plants were rapidly being torn apart. Fiery orange and red energy exploded around her in an inferno of non-burning fire, enveloping Patch as he stood at her side, at the Eye of the hurricane. Elsewhere, the force of the energy was a crashing wave, knocking people off their feet and rocking the flying ship. Pain that the numbing plants had kept at bay finally came, and truthfully, it was wonderful, it was the pain of the living. With her blood moving sluggishly through her veins, deep purple bruises rose against her corpse-like pale skin. She longed to reach up, to touch his hand, to touch his face. Her fingers twitched at her side but mostly, didn’t stir. Love, fear, relief, confusion, all crowded her thoughts and demanding to be experienced at once. Jean’s lips parted but no words came out of her dry mouth. Instead, she turned her eyes up to Patch as a tear leaked out of the corner eye and into her hair. They’d never relied on words before; she’d known what he felt, and even without her telepathy, he, too, also seemed to know what was in her heart. :: I’m so cold. :: |
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| Logan | Jan 2 2010, 08:44 PM Post #3 |
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Unregistered
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His imagination was running wild. That was all it could be. He had to face it; she was gone. James bowed over enough to put his forehead against Jean’s for a moment. He let it sit there, letting his warmth absorb into her cold skin and vice versa. The cool feeling that seeped into his forehead was not exactly unpleasant. It was just the last feeling that he expected to feel from her. After this, it was it. After letting his forehead rest upon hers for a moment, he moved his lips up and put a kiss there where his head had been. It was a kiss goodbye. ”Love ya, darlin’,” he finally whispered. He had never said that to her before. James brushed the woman’s hair back behind her ear with his fingers like he used to when she was alive. Her eyes were open. It took a lot to surprise James Howlett. He was not scared or surprised easily. However, this caused the feral to straighten quickly and take a step back, his eyes opening wide with shock. His mouth opened slightly in a silent curse and his breath rate increased. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, and almost cautiously, he took the step back to the table next to her. Staring at her for a moment, he licked his lips as if he were preparing to say something… but words never came. It seemed as if it were in slow motion as his brown eyes caught the sight of the tear trailing down her cheek. ”Wha…” he began. Then the familiar voice entered his head again. ::I’m so cold:: James suddenly lunged towards the woman as the words entered his mind, grabbing her by the shoulders and lifting her up to a sitting position. He put his arms around her, holding her to his chest as if she was the most precious gift. ”Jean?” he said within himself, knowing that she would pick it up if it was more than his imagination. Was he going crazy? |
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| Jean | Jan 9 2010, 11:15 PM Post #4 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
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James took her in his arms and Jean’s fingers instinctively curled into his shirt, as her whole body shook with the cold. There was a time, once, when the iced mutant who ran with Ruby’s crew had caught her off-guard and encased her in ice; even that wasn’t as frozen to the bone as she felt now, laying naked in plastic morgue bag. Greedily, she leaned into James. Jean? She heard her name and the confusion… the disbelief just under the surface of his thoughts. Memories and feelings came to her in bits and pieces, flying around her mind like autumn leaves caught in the wind: explosions, fires, attacking plants, the pain of hitting a wall and falling to the ground, rage like she’d never felt before and couldn’t pinpoint its cause, and finally, pushing all the rest away - Love ya, darlin’, murmured as fingers stroked her hair. :: I’m here, :: she managed, weakly shaking her head against James’ chest and wincing as the increased blood flow caused bruises to blossom all over her body, giving a roadmap of every bang and scrape from the last fight. “I’m here,” she finally croaked aloud through a dry throat and mouth. “Was I knocked out,” she asked. Tilting her face up to look at his, she knew something was wrong. James was never scared, never surprised; he’d lived through too much, seen too much, but she looked up and saw an expression she’d never seen on his face – shock. She tore her eyes from his and looked around, seeing the bare metal tables with the gutters down the sides and metal drawers for the first time. Something dawned behind her eyes as her gaze slid down to herself; her hand left James’ shoulder and touched the plastic bag, like some kind of macabre sleeping bag, still zippered up to her hips. “Jimmy? What the Hell is going on?” she demanded, not liking the touch of uncertainty in her voice. |
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| Nick Fury | Jan 27 2010, 04:40 AM Post #5 |
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The Spy
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The world had not always been at war, but Nick Fury sometimes felt that he had been fighting forever. World Wars, smaller actions, now this rise in mutant and meta-human terrorism. He did what he could, though it cost him an eye, though it cost him a life outside this helicarrier, though it cost him (some said) a soul. He would stand on the ash pile that the remained of the world, and he would be a survivor. Everything he did was so that he would be there when the world went through its next major change. Now was not that time though, even as the helicarrier suddenly rocked and shuddered like a cheesy effect in a 60's Sci Fi television show. Something was changing... but not the world, maybe not the world. The blast that went through him, that went through them all... he knew it, he knew that energy, and though he never smiled, though he never allowed himself to warm up to those he sent out to die on a daily basis, he smirked and said, "And that's why we call you Marvel." He was on his feet, before the shuddering stopped, before the alarms were silenced. He was on his feet and he was running down the hall, the length of the helicarrier. "Make a hole," he ordered as he sprinted through the flying air craft carrier, and when he got to the room where the body had been left. She was, as he already knew, up and in the arms of her... well, whatever he was to her, Fury didn't really pay attention to what his stable of soldiers did as long as they did their duties. Standing at the doorway, Nick Fury folded his arms and said, in answer to her question, "What's going on is I nearly lost my best agent. Welcome back to the land of the living, Marvel. Scare us like that again, and I just may have to bring some disciplinary action down on you." Tough words. But if he didn't care, he wouldn't have even said that much. |
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| Logan | Feb 4 2010, 05:49 AM Post #6 |
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Unregistered
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Mutation. It was such a wonderful thing. To think that the ability to survive such traumatic events rested within her? Jean was in his arms again, breathing and even speaking. Sure, he had survived many things he shouldn’t have. The wars. The many arrows that once pierced his torso. The stab wounds, the gun shots, and the fires. In many ways, he found Jean to be more like him now than she had been before. She was a survivor. She could cheat death. Though, it was different from an outsider’s point of view. He was accustomed to being the one that people marveled at as he survived things that no one else could dream of. But this time, it was his turn to look at someone and marvel. She was completely and totally dead. The acids that released within a corpse the moment that the heart ceased had built up and already began its work at decay. But somehow, this process was reversed within her and she came back whole again. James held her tightly, his strong arms keeping her close to his torso as he put his cheek on top of her head. The “dead” scent had passed. How strange this was! It was as if she was Lazarus and Jesus had just called him out of the tomb. He released her from his hug, if only to look at her. Jean finally noticed her surroundings and the body bag that she was laying in. To James’ surprise, Jean was bewildered at her current location. ”Jimmy, what the hell is going on?” she demanded. Patch shook his head negatively. He was about to respond when a voice cut in from the doorway of the morgue. "What's going on is I nearly lost my best agent. Welcome back to the land of the living, Marvel. Scare us like that again, and I just may have to bring some disciplinary action down on you,” the man said. It was Nick Fury. Patch looked to him for a brief second before looking back to Jean. ”You were gone, baby,” he started, still shaking his head. ”Gone. But something brought you back.” |
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| Sabretooth | Feb 4 2010, 06:20 AM Post #7 |
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Adamantium Skeleton, Claws / Feral traits, Regeneration
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What a fucking waste of a mission. They were played like chumps, like fools - Avery Doyle toyed with them, turned them on each other like a kid shakes a jar to make captive insects fight. And it worked. It worked so damn easy. Creed had never been more displeased to be a part of the Thunderbolts, and was considering a transfer back to black ops - true black ops, not this fake superhero bullshit. The kinda jobs where you were sent in to off some foreign dictator, or a drug cartel leader, or a corrupt politician, and make it look like an accident. He was starting to miss those jobs. He wanted back at Avery Doyle - as far as he was considered, she just made it to the top of SHIELD's hit list and he was going to make sure he made the hit himself. Nobody humiliated him, and more importantly, nobody hurt the only person he gave a shit about, and killing Jean definitely did that. Sure, technically, it was Tom that killed Jean, and Creed made a mental note to snuff the Irishman in his sleep, but Doyle was the real reason. Jimmy'd always had a weakness for the women. Usually, he'd been able to do what he needed and move on, no problem, but this redhead... this ws different, and Victor Creed didn't like it. He could see Jimmy getting soft, getting weak - all because of this Jean Grey. He watched the proceedings from outside of the morgue, the viewing window in the hallway. He watched the whole thing, Jimmy tenderly caressing the corpse, then the corpse bolting upright and, well, not being a corpse anymore. Creed had alot of practice in not allowing what he was thinking or feeling to express in his body in any way shape or form, so even though he remained stoic and cross-armed, he was still surprised. She was dead. She was stone cold dead, and now... now she wasn't anymore. Not even Jimmy or Victor could do that. At least, not that they knew of - they'd never actually died before. Taken damage that should have been fatal, sure, but actual death? Never happened. Just what the hell was this woman? And why was nobody in the slightest bit concerned about this? |
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| Nick Fury | Feb 4 2010, 09:31 AM Post #8 |
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The Spy
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This was not a situation that made anyone comfortable, it wasn't something that anyone liked. But death was something that came to them all, right? Keeping the body on the helicarrier seemed pretty weird to the agent who came bearing gifts wondered really what was the point. His boots clacked clacked on the hard metal deck of the carrier as he grumbled softly to himself about all his military training, the years of tactical training, the six tours he had served overseas, the box full of medals in his quarters... and he was a glorified flower delivery boy to a dead freak. But, when he entered the room... she was alive, and the rest of the freaks were gathering to welcome her back into the land of the living. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the resurrected mutant. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. Nick Fury turned his one eyed glare at the agent and quickly, the disturbed man thrust the flower arrangement into the director's hands, "Uh, this was delivered for Agent Marvel." The Director of Shield looked at the bouquet of red and yellow roses with a frown, plucking the envelope from the little plastic holder stabbed into the middle of it. It was heavier than just a note should be, and when he opened it, a small carving of a bird chipped crudely out of ruby quartz fell into his hand. "Rise from the ashes, Marvel. This game's not over--- R." Nick held up the little carving, curiously. "My god, how'd they know?" the agent asked, "That's a phoenix, a bird who rises from the dead." ***** Ruby, on his balcony overlooking the city, stared out at the helicarrier that hovered over his domain, like some great mechanical storm cloud. He raised his glass of drug laced scotch towards the floating beast and said, to himself, "Don't disappoint me, Marvel. I'd miss you too much if you died." He shot back the drink, and settled in to finish the bottle. |
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| Jean | Feb 6 2010, 11:06 PM Post #9 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
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"What's going on is I nearly lost my best agent. Welcome back to the land of the living, Marvel. Scare us like that again, and I just may have to bring some disciplinary action down on you.” “You were gone, baby. Gone. But something brought you back.” Her skin prickled into gooseflesh as the morgue chill continued to seep into her… but also from the news she was getting from the only two people she trusted. Gone… dead… “And I what? Just got better?” she said, her voice laced with disbelief and confusion. Stunned puzzlement was also written on the face of an Agent holding a bouquet of yellow and red roses. When Fury read the card he’d plucked from the flowers, "Rise from the ashes, Marvel. This game's not over--- R.”, Marvel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "My god, how'd they know?" the agent asked, "That's a phoenix, a bird who rises from the dead." “Simple, if this isn’t real.” She gathered her strength and focused her thoughts, first on Patch and then Fury, entering their minds. “I have to know you’re real,” she said by way of explanation. “Game…,” she repeated from the message. “I’ll find out if this is one of his games,” she said through gritted teeth as she concentrated on anything wrong in the minds of Patch and Fury. This felt so much like one of his sick, twisted mind games – she could practically see him smile coldly as he explained it to his crew, the loyal sycophants, ‘I know… our dear Agent Marvel is going to wake-up, and all of her friends and colleagues are going to tell that she’s been dead. That’ll really mess with her head; only fair since she messes with other people’s so often. A bit of poetic justice.’ She wanted so much for that to be true. “No… Nothing,” she said morosely, as she released them. “That would’ve made things so much simpler if this had been a trick.” Her gaze fell on the freaked out agent who’d just seen her, in essence, mentally attack their commanding officer. Instinctually, at some point he’d unholstered his weapon and pointed it at her head. |
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| Black Tom | Feb 7 2010, 06:40 AM Post #10 |
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Thomas was in the gymnasium lifting weights aboard the helicarrier. It was partly for exercise but it was also part of an exam that was being run on how his body was accepting the wooden grafts implanted into his forearms. He had taken some hard licks in the fight against Avery Doyle. He’d wound up luckier than others. Marvel was dead and Patch was in the infirmary. Once the medics were sure Carpenter had cleared all of the plant toxins from his body he was cleared to go about his business and that business was a series of tests set up by SHIELD lackeys. There was still deliberation on how he should be disciplined. They'd put a lot of money into is grafts but he did kill a top agent, even if he was being controlled at the time. Carpenter was having no problem with the weights. His body was sore from the fight but it wasn’t hindering his mobility. He had remained trim and fit in prison. He was able to exercise during his imprisonment, not like there was much else he could do. He had to keep his mind active or he’d go insane, slowly and surely. He didn’t know if having to deal with his two new handlers was worth it though. They were nerdy little shits and talked in long words that the Irishman had no use for. They’d ask him questions and Thomas would naturally be surly. He could tell they were itching to activate his nano-chain. It seemed now that there needed to be two handlers to reign in Carpenter. Agent Marvel had held control of his nano-chain before but now she was dead. True, Thomas had fired the killing shot but it was all Doyle’s fault at the root of things. The lab techs were testing Thomas’ grip strength when suddenly the entire helicarrier lurched violently. Thomas, the handlers and the scientists stumbled slightly but then found their footing. When the ship righted itself, the punching bags were still swaying. The scientists were troubled, as they well should have been, and Thomas wiped his face with a towel and threw it on the floor as he marched toward the door. “Where…where do you think you’re going? Stop right there!” one of the handlers ordered. Thomas shook his head slowly in frustration. “Do you know what just happened?” he asked. Both handlers shook their heads. “Right, neither do I. For all we know, we could be under attack and be bleeding from the fucking eyeballs in minutes from an enemy attack. So, don’t you think it rather prudent for me to find this would be enemy and make him wish his da had never laid into his dear old mum?” Carpenter asked. The handlers looked to one another and then one said, “We’ll be right behind you.” Thomas entered the hallway and zipped his shirt up. He hustled down the corridor following the general flow of traffic. Eventually, he caught sight of a shiny dome. It was Nick Fury. If there was a fight going on Carpenter would like to be on the side with Fury. The Irishman hated to admit it but Fury was the best at what he did. Also, fighting alongside Fury meant that if the correct opportunity arose, he might be close enough for a kill shot. It worked for Marvel, after all. Thomas followed Fury as he ducked into a room. It was the morgue. Fury was a bit ahead of Carpenter so the Irishman missed out on some of the exposition ahead of him. When he entered the room, there were several members of his team gathered. Patch was out of his medical bed and holding the corpse of Agent Marvel, only she wasn’t a corpse. She was alive. On one hand, it was good. Her being back in the land of the living might mean he could remain alive himself and not executed by SHIELD for killing one of their top agents. On the other hand, Marvel could flay him cell by cell or melt his brain. Marvel was sitting oh-so-naked on the morgue slab. She might have been a manipulative bitch for almost tricking him into service but she had a body that he knew how to appreciate. “So. Oops. Sorry there love, about killing you. S’all bygones and such?” he asked from the back of the crowd. |
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| Logan | Feb 17 2010, 04:32 AM Post #11 |
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Unregistered
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Patch released Jean as the others began arriving. They were all nosey. Had they come just to see her dead body? Or did they feel her awaken? He continued to sit on the cold table next to her as Fury, Creed and the fucking Irishman, Tom. James was about to throw a glare towards Tom when an agent brought in a flower arrangement. He didn’t think much of it at first until Fury read the note. "Rise from the ashes, Marvel. This game's not over--- R.” He pushed himself off the table and walked over to Fury, snatching the note from his hand. After giving him a sarcastic “thanks” nod, he raised the note up to his nose and took a sniff. Nothing familiar. The note was probably sent through a flower company and written there. But the quartz bird? Patch looked to Fury again but then stopped as he felt Marvel enter his mind. This was all very unusual. Marvel would be able to feel his curiosity of the note and his suspiciousness of it. As she left his mind, he noticed the Agent next to him holding a gun towards Marvel’s head. In a flash, adamantium claws came from his right hand and he slit the gun in half just above the man’s hands. Just as quickly, the claws were gone and he pushed the Agent clear across the room, sending him onto his backside. Dismissively, he turned away from the man and looked first toward Tom. ”I think you might get a pass on this one, bub,” he stated, considering the influences that Avery had on them on the scene. ”But in the meantime,” Patch turned back towards Marvel, his eyes narrowing at her in a way that she had not seen in quite some time. ”Who the fuck is ‘R’?” |
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| Sabretooth | Feb 17 2010, 10:14 PM Post #12 |
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Adamantium Skeleton, Claws / Feral traits, Regeneration
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"Hrmph," Creed grunted as Cassidy and the others filed in to fawn over the "no longer dead" Agent Marvel. Fury and some little grunt came in with a package, which was mildly curious. Givin' their star child gifts an' sweet, sugary words, huh? Sooner I get outta this ridiculous little outfit, the better. Creed scoffed at Jimmy's notion of giving the Irish bastard a free pass. It was ridiculous. Mind control or no, you don't off your superior officer and then just walk away from that. Creed may not have liked Marvel very much, but he understood and respected the chain of command. Besides, if they hadn't recruited a thug like Cassidy in the first place, if they had outfitted this team with real soldiers and not super powered rejects they plucked out of prison, then this wouldn't have been a problem. So no, as far as Creed was concerned, Cassidy wasn't skating by on the "I was mind controlled" excuse. Creed had witnessed mind control plenty of times. Hadn't been subjected to it, since Weapon X designed him to be highly resistant to all but the best and most potent of telepaths, but he'd seen it. What Marvel, Cassidy, and Rawson were subjected to wasn't mind control, not in the literal sense. It was more like a ramping up of aggression, of taking natural thoughts and impulses and magnifying them while breaking down inhibitions. So what Cassidy did, what all three of them had done, wasn't outside of their natures to do. It was what they wanted to do anyway. They just had an excuse to do it. "Colonel Fury," he called out through the doorway. "Mind if we talk in private a bit?" |
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| Jean | Feb 19 2010, 12:06 AM Post #13 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
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The Irishman ducked inside the room, his eyes momentarily popping at the sight of her - the sight of her naked or the sight of her not-dead, or both, it was hard to tell. “So. Oops. Sorry there love, about killing you. S’all bygones and such?” [Tom] asked from the back of the crowd. Marvel arched a noncommittal eyebrow at him. Jimmy seemed to shrug grudgingly. Creed sneered, a typical response from him. The errand boy was taken care of without a second thought from Patch, it was, after all, second nature to him, but not before taking up the gift the junior agent brought whirling on Marvel, his eyes narrowed menacingly. Whether he knew the presumptuous threat would be the spur to put the steel back in her backbone, or it was a genuine suspicious glare, didn’t matter. “Enough,” she rowred, slipping off the metal table, her spine straight and shoulders back, puffing out her chest. Being the only naked person in a room full of clothed men (unless money was in their hands) generally put the naked person at a disadvantage, making it hard to be imposing without a stitch on, but her temper had made such concerns trivial. Fists clenched, she stalked closer to Patch, meeting his narrowed gaze eyeball to eyeball. The anger Jimmy had sparked fueling an aura of energy and power that filled the area around her. “R is the guy who nearly ruined my career ten years ago and has been dogging my footsteps since then like some sick fucking stalker ever since. Scott ‘Ruby’ Summers,” she snarled, forgetting for a moment Jimmy loved her and she loved him, and that they would undoubtedly have great make-up sex afterward, but at the moment, his jealousy was skating out over thin ice. "Colonel Fury," [Creed] called out through the doorway. "Mind if we talk in private a bit?" Marvel’s angry gaze left Jimmy and slid over to his not-so-silent shadow, Creed. “Don’t bother,” she snapped. For a moment she stood still and closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind into Fury’s thoughts, instantly knowing everything he did about their last, and to her, fatal, mission. Her green eyes snapped up and pinned Creed. “Do you think a thought ever passes through your head that I don’t know about? Hmm? A mission turns into a real clusterfuck and you’re ready to pack your bags and jump ship. The rest of us were fucked up by something we couldn’t control, what the hell is your excuse for letting the team falter and die? Team, Creed,” she went on berating him. “You can’t spit on it one minute and then complain about it falling apart the next. You want to talk to the Colonel about a transfer? If you’re too blind to see that we’re the best team you’ll ever serve with, then pack your bags and scurry home? You’re just a liability to me.” She’d said her piece and dismissed Victor from her thoughts. “And you,” she pointed to the Irishman “there aren’t many people in the world with the balls to take me out in a one-on-one fight,” she said, generously not mentioning that Avery’s plants worked her over quite a bit before Carpenter’s coup de grace had put her on a slab. “It must’ve been impressive,” Marvel moved across the room to a side table. Taking a corner of one of the folded morgue shrouds, she popped it in the air with a snap. The white sheet wrapped around her curves tightly; togas had never looked so good before. Her gaze went back to Cassidy as strode to the door. “Enjoy it; you won’t get that lucky a second time.” Unlike Creed, who was generally a poor sport, she could take her losses with the same grace as her wins. She gave Fury a final nod and “Sir” on her way out the door. |
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1:02 AM Jul 11