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The Greatest Wickedness of a Wicked Species; (X-Factors now, Morlocks later)
Topic Started: Jun 1 2012, 05:49 AM (1,365 Views)
Havok
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Superheated Plasma Blasts
May 15th
Day



Life was not always dramatics and tragedies. Sometimes it was simple moments shared with friends, people who had been with you during those other times. Alex Summers had been through his share of the badness. He'd been a monster once, a sort of coerced voluntariness and though Alex had been legally exonerated of wrongdoing, he nevertheless had spent every moment that he could trying to make up for what he had done, and in doing so, he had gathered people around him who were tarnished as well. These people wanted to make amends, these people wanted to cleanse their souls maybe if they believed that they had them. It didn't matter if they believed it or not. It didn't matter at all.

What mattered was that they were in this place because they could do it. They could do what was right... even though those who found it more than difficult to do so.

Since they had been cut off from Utopia, Alex and his X-Factors had not stopped their efforts to save those mutants who needed them. With nowhere to put them, they had decided to house them here in the Old City, Alex unafraid by Callisto's mad declaration of war. Alex had been War, literally. He had once embodied all that was violent, known for that brief time only the taste of blood and lust for destruction. Callisto was nothing more than a rabid dog. He'd put her down if he had to, but he was hoping that he wouldn't have to.

At any rate, today they were working to clean out some of the abandoned buildings of the city they were calling their own. Alex was using his powers to blast centuries of debris into dust, while the others worked at shoring up walls that needed to be repaired, patching holes, whatever was necessary. There was so much wrong up top. The clear attacks on the X-Men, the possibility that their friends had been replaced by monsters, the unsettling silence from Magneto's people... But that didn't take away the fact that mutants were in need, and Alex would be working to make sure they didn't suffer needlessly.

"Marshall!" he called out to the oldest of the three moloid children who were doing their best to help, "You and Will move those roofing tiles over by where Holly is. Holly, sweetie, you think you can separate them by size?"

"Yes, Alex!" Holly chirped, "Holly know big little small good!"

"That's my girl," Alex smiled at her. He paused to wipe his forehead. Heat didn't cause him to sweat anymore, but this was dirty work. Good work, but dusty and dirty.

He found he liked hard work. Who knew?
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Morph
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He had seen the statistics. Hell, he helped compile the statistics at one point. The average period was about five days, from the time that a teenage mutant either "comes out" or manifests, in the case of a physically discernible mutation (like Lorna's green hair or Kyle's general status as a doggy-like person as opposed to someone like Madison who could pass as human if he so chose) to the time that someone tries to kill them. Every day, a mutant kid gets assaulted, attacked or murdered. And honestly, as uneasy as it was around here, it was better off for kids to be here than a sub-division in Bumfuckertonville, Idaho.

Probably, at least. There was a lot of weird shit going on. The kid that was green and dead on the floor when he got here? Weird shit. The other people who lived below the surface of the city, the surprisingly literary Morlocks, getting all riled? Not exactly a glowing recruitment tool. But it still was probably better to be attacked by some H.G Wells-referencing hobo tribe than to be murdered by your own parents.

Honestly, he was not good at this kind of thing. He spent a good chunk of his time studying computers exactly because he didn't like getting his hands dirty. But this was more important than his own misgivings. Besides, it was okay. He once helped re-caulk his shower in his condo back in Kentucky.

The Old City made him nervous, the same way that old churches did. It was awe-inspiring and because of that, a little bit terrifying. It was so big and so old. "If you guys find that room from National Treasure with all the gold and treasure, you'll tell me right?" he said as he carefully folded his body to the shape of a wheelbarrow to carry some of the materials they were using to shore up the walls. "I mean it would fit here. Gigantically big and buried underneath New York City. I mean granted, Alex ain't exactly Nic Cage, but movies are never like real life anyways." He genially continued talking, even as some of the materials he carried caused him to sag.
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Foxx
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She poked her head out of a window up above, calling down to Havok. "Got that mooring put in, Al." She said. "Ceiling should be sturdy in that weak spot now, don't recommend jumpin' on it though, just in case." She moved back inside, tossing the tools haphazardly into their steel-cased container before she rounded down the stairs before emerging from the building just as one of the little squirts meandered by in a flurry of excitement.

She gave the boy a short pat on the top of his head before watching him run off with a grin on her face.

Setting the tool box down she dusted her hands off on her jeans before cracking her knuckles and looking over as Morph

"Tell you? We'd likely bury you and take the gold, huh?" She smirked to herself and gave a shrug, moving to a cooler stashed nearby full of ice and drinks. Pulling a jug out she took a big swig from the water there in, taking a moment to take a look at the building they were working on. This was kind of fun, she had to admit. Bit of manual labor bound them together and suddenly, for the first time in a long time, Foxx began to feel like she almost had a family, if even just a motley one.

And what a motley crew it was. Many of them had checkered pasts, some, specifically in cases of those like Alex or X-23, were incredibly marred by past actions. She herself had a few dozen skeletons to atone for.

She carried it on over to the building's stony facade and looked it up and down before turning to look at Alex, stepping out of Morph's way as he barrowed on by.

"Fancy a sip eh?" She pushed the water jug towards him. "Bloody hot down here."

Pf course, Foxx could pant away the heat, but that was just bad form and it tended to freak people out, so she decided water was the next best thing. "You reckon we get this one finished and I go upside and bring us home a stack of pizzapies huh?"
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Reptil
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Prehistoric Reptile Traits
The Morlocks were messed up. They were messed up real bad thanks to their leader. When Humberto was first part of the group he felt at home around them. Many friends were made and bonds formed that would never be broken. But as time went on he grew more and more troubled. It started when Callisto struck a deal with Magneto. That did not sit well with the young Genoshan, but he stayed quiet about it all. He figured that she was the more experienced, knew what the hell she was doing since he is so young. The latest happenings with the group showed him that she was not the woman that he had been led to believe. Abandoning him for having a voice and putting a death sentence on his head if he was to ever return? That kind of stuff was just insane. And what she did to Sonny, he did not have the words for.

In many ways he was glad to no longer be part of the group, but in many more he wasn’t. Plenty followed Callisto blindly, but he still cared about them all. It was hard for someone like him to just cut all ties. Humberto valued the people that came into his life in a positive way. His time as a slave taught him to hold life dear and never forget those that were considered friends. That was why he though about the mutants back in Genosha every single night. He would never forget their names or faces. Hendrick, Lerato, Jess, Abri. Just a few that did not have the fortune to manage escape. Being a part of X-Factor meant a lot to him. They helped mutants escape horrible situations and find sanctuary. Humberto found it comforting to be with a group of mutants that helped others live better lives. He wanted to do the same for his imprisoned brethren and one day he would. But for now, the mutants of this nation needed his aid.

”…but movies are never like real life anyways.”

Morph’s words snapped Humberto out of his thoughts. He had no idea what the man-turned-wheelbarrow was talking about, so he just nodded. Then Foxx said something about pizza pies. “Uh yea, right.” He hefted a large piece of stone and clay onto his shoulder and carried over to the building pile of debris. With the effort the team and company were putting in, the old city was starting to look better than before. He coughed as a cloud of dust was kicked up from disturbing the pile. It was a good thing that he could shift back to smooth skin because cleaning out dirt and grime from scales was difficult. He looked to the others. “I remember doing this kind of work back in the slave pens. It sucked then too,” he chuckled. Humberto was learning to not let all of the misery and pain of his past weigh him down so much.
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Volt
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Foxx offered Alex a drink, but it was unceremoniously yoinked out of her hand, by a dust covered Jonny, who indeed said, "Yoink," with a cheerful grin. Sitting on his shoulder was his trusty henchcat Victor, who had somehow remained entirely dust free. He watched Foxx with unreadable yellow eyes, and then looked away with a yawn, before headbutting Jon's ear and bounding off to stalk for one of those tasty rats he liked so much. "Don't wander off, Victor," Jonny warned, "There's alligators in the sewer."

Victor looked over his shoulder at Jon with a look like, "Really? Reeeeeeally?" Then, he continued his hunt, unafraid. He was a Latverian cat. Alligators were child's play.

Jonny smiled at the work that was going on around them and said, "Suck it, City of New York with all your city planning and unionized construction crew. Stick a couple of muties on the job and it'll get done in half the time."

Glancing over at Alex, Jon knew that the bossman was giving them busywork because the tensions had been high lately. Something was going on up top, and no one was really quite sure what it was yet. Imposters. Attacks. The X-Men locked behind the Utopia barrier. The Defenders still away on their secret mission. Shield all closed mouth. The Morlocks lead by a crazy woman.

Life was strange and Jonny, the clone of a long dead X-Man, knew strange. He was the very definition of it.

But Alex Summers was very much like his brother though he would deny it to his dying day. They thrived in the midst of chaos, and they were almost genetically tuned to make sure that as many people as possible thrive along with them. Alex was doing what he was doing here because no matter what happened, no matter what came, there was the hope that the world could be better. These homes would be needed. Not as a bunker against cataclysm. But as a refuge in a storm.

The bad weather would pass someday, and until then, Alex was more than willing to be a lightning bolt so that no one else was struck.

Jonny looked around at the other hard working mutants and he wondered how much of that any of them really got. Probably not much.

But then, Jonny was a clever little tool of serial murder.

"Hey, Bossman, there's a couple of houses on the third block back there that need demolition. One of them looks like a stalactite fell on it... or was it a stalagmite? I can't remember which grows up and which grows down. You're the rock fetishist, not this poor ole country clone."
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TBowen
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Light-Based Daggers and Projection/Detoxification
While the others worked hard at clearing debris and making many of the old buildings more livable, Tandy had decided that she would help out the most by making the area light up a bit. There was quite a bit of the glowing moss growing throughout the place, but it made everything have a green hue and left plenty of dark shadows. Sure, some of the others could see pretty well in the darkness, but since her particular ability allowed her to light the way, she did so. She came in and out of the buildings that they were set to clear, forming light daggers and throwing them so that they would stick into the walls, lighting the place up fairly well. For the moment, she worked alone and ahead of the rest of the group, which suited her just fine.

"I lit up most of that block over there, Alex," Tandy said as she made her way back to the group, stepping carefully over some of the debris that they had cleared already. She stopped briefly to listen to the exchange between Foxx, Volt and the rest, bending to take a water bottle from the cooler. It was a good thing that she had brought plenty of clothes with her. While she hadn't began helping with clearing the area quite yet, she had gotten dirty crawling around through a few areas in order to light it up.

"I think it is a stalactite that grows down," Tandy commented as she approached, taking a drink of the water. "Stalactites have to hold on tight! You know... so they don't fall." she said with a grin, still attempting to fit in with the group. She had been there a little over a month and was still attempting to earn her place and feel like a part of the team. With a group of people that had been through so much together, it was hard to feel like one of them. They were all very welcoming and pretty nice so far, but there were still times where she stood around not getting their inside jokes or missing the reference they were making.

"Somehow I still remember that from Earth Science in elementary school," Tandy finished quietly, suddenly feeling dumb for explaining that. She looked in the direction that Volt had pointed Alex in and nodded, knowing she needed to head in that direction any ways.
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X-23
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Work was work. Whether she was out finding mutants in need or chasing down threats, monitoring situations, patrolling or working around the Old City, the feral clone did whatever task was set with little question and no complaint. Perched high up on one of the roofs, she balanced in a crouching position on the balls of her feet as easily as if she was on the ground. Laura was using her claws to lift up old roofing tiles that needed replacing, cutting and trimming the lining beneath where that too was old and worn. It was important that they improved the housing conditions here, just in case. Dressed in jeans, boots and a tank top, she did not need gloves or anything else, any cuts and scrapes healing before she moved on to the next task.

While for many the labour was difficult, X-23 managed with relative ease; since a young age she had been trained to fight and kill so a little construction work was not as draining in comparison. But, it was still busy work and filled their free time. Laura did not mind; she had little else to do when she was not on active duty. However, with Logan in New York City for the foreseeable future, she was spending more time with her genetic donor. While strange, the experience was not…bad. The clone still had a lot to think about when it came to how she felt about Wolverine and what she considered him, other than the very basic principle of their relationship. For instance, should she think of him as her brother? Or even her father? Laura did not know and besides, ‘father’ was an alien concept to her and she could not imagine Logan behaving as Volt did towards her, Volt being her own ‘brother’.

As she worked, the voices and noises made by her teammates and the moloid children below formed an oddly reassuring soundtrack. It had been a while since Callisto had declared war upon them, but that did not mean Laura was about to let her guard slip; in many ways it was impossible for her to lower those defences as they had been beat into her head, often literally. Straightening her back, the feral looked out over the city, narrowing her eyes a little as she honed in on the area she could hear Volt talking about. Standing in a fluid motion, the girl moved to the edge of the roof and pounced. Making her way down in a series of hops and jumps, Laura landed beside Volt in a crouch before standing and looking at him, the hint of what might be a smile on her face.

“A stalactite comes from above. A stalagmite comes from the ground, brother. The clue is in the letters.”
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Lorna Summers
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Work like what was being done today was quick stuff for Lorna. Assuming, of course, there was metal involved. Though much of the Old City was stone, there was enough metal around for Lorna's powers to be useful. Besides, being busy helped.

She couldn't shake the sight of Tommy, or whatever it was, sprawled out green and dead in front of her. In her mind, sat a album of horrible images, too deep, too personal to share with almost anyone. Chief among them was Alex, the way War ripped into him, the battles she had to face because of that, the way it changed him. The there were the Purifiers. No, she wasn't there to watch them destroy the school, to see the bodies of mutant children littering the grounds. But she remembered that day as many people remember September 11th. She sat there, staring at the sky, staring at the dome which kept them safe. Why couldn't those children have a dome? Why couldn't they too be kept safe.

Now she could add Tommy to the list of images. She shook the thought off and focused. Lifting a metal beam, she moved it where it needed to be. Being cut off from Utopia meant they would have to play host for the wayward mutants who would now be under their care. While Scott was prepared for that, he had an entire island to play with, Lorna felt her team could use a little more work.

She flew over to the group surrounding Alex. Her friends, while still working, it seemed had taken a moment to converse.

"Pizza sounds lovely," Lorna offered, seeing Jonny grab the cup of water from Foxx, and hearing the woman's offer to grab some takeout. She looked over at the children and then back to her teammates. "Of course, anything sounds lovely after a workout."

"The rock fetishist?" She chuckled. "That's the most polite sort of fetish anyone's ever accused you of having."

She looked around. This place needed a lot of work, but X Factor never minded working. She knew that, one day, the Old City might be made new, pulsing with what was already a family and could become a community.
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Morph
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"Well, yeah," he said in response to Foxx, "I mean, one less share to divvy out, more for everyone else. Simple law of the pirate. And just between you and me, I always thought Laura was a peg leg away from shivvering the timbers." He threw a wink at the girl just in case she caught it with her enhanced hearing.

"What the hell are timbers? And what is shivvering? And why are we shivvering the timbers, anyways?" He said, the connection between his brain and his mouth way too quick for his sense of discretion to interfere.

Foxx offered to order pizza, which, well, Morph could eat. Always. So he wasn't going to object. But he realized between the crashed houses and the demolitions that they were doing, it would be kind of problematic to eat, just because it would be dirty. Which led his brain to a different area. "Yeah, I'm cool with eating. Uh, question though, that just broke to me. Did anyone do, like, an air quality report? I mean, God only knows what kind of stuff has been growing down here in terms of mold and fungi. And who knows if the people who built this knew about the dangers of asbestos? I mean, I don't have lungs so I think I'm in the clear, but for the rest of you, I mean, better hope X-Factor's insurance covers mesothelioma."

When he heard Lorna's joke about Alex's fetishes, the wheelbarrow that was Morph tipped over. "Please do not continue this line of conversation," Morph said robotically, "I really do not want to hear if Alex is into... See, now I can't stop thinking about it. This is troubling."

"Yeah, this is gonna linger." He really didn't think anyone was listening to him. At this point, he was just making up for lost time, all the quality goofing off he missed when he was working undercover.
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Narration
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Kurshen ran, he ran and he ran quickly. He'd dragged himself across dirty floors, smashed his face on the walls on his way, all to make it seem more convincing. He bore the guise of a roughed-up security officer, his uniform soiled and his hair disheveled and his gait haggard and broken. He knew the way. Sril'rt had to him the way. He'd not fail her lest she kill him for his uselessness.

He spilled out into the approach to the Old City.

"Help! Help, Oh, God, Help!"

He reached the door, banging upon it.

"Help! They have dozens if not a hundred people there! They're going to kill everyone! HELP!" He banged at the door again. "Please, please! I don't know if they're following me!"

He continued banging against the door with his fists, putting on the greatest act he could muster.




Gliz'ik had taken on the shape of Sticker, the yellow, adhesive mutant who was never truly in Callisto's good graces, despite his constant attempts to please her. He too ran, with false frantics, though he ran towards the Alley. He spilled out onto the second floor. Shouting.

It was beauty, really, Sril'rt's plan. The Skrull had never been known for subtley back on the home world. She was a criminal, drawn out of prison for a glorious purpose to redeem her name. That she was orchestrating this deception, however thin, was impressive in just how much it showed her adaptive nature. Still, he had his part to play, and he wouldn't fail her.

"Guys! Come quick! Havok's brought SHIELD down to the tunnels! They're gonna nab Callisto and the others, and then they said they're comin' here! I seen it! I heard it! We gotta save em! They got Plague and Scatterbrain and Roadkill in null cuffs already! Come on!"

He waved them up towards the annexing tunnel. "We gotta hurry!"
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Ink
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Iconographic Power Mimicry
JP Ink and Tommy

Altogether, it was a rather dreary day for the drain-dwelling Morlocks in their subterranean hovels. The crackling flames of a bonfire swelled and shriveled in the dark, sputtering forth will-o-wisps that lit the air aglow with precious warmth. At its edge sat two of The Alley’s oddest inhabitants – unusual not for their ghastly looks or extreme physical mutations like many of the other Morlocks, but because they lacked such things. Tommy, the young girl with watercolor skin and an angel’s face, sat snuggled beside her associate, Ink, the “normal” one among the tunnel-goers despite his ink-etched form.

Eric sat upon a dingy couch cushion that had lost a good portion of its innards, cerulean eyes entranced by the dancing campfire whilst he absent-mindedly twirled Tommy’s multi-colored tresses around his fingers. They didn’t speak to one another as there wasn’t much use for words in the tunnels these days. Instead, they merely sat in comfortable silence, the young girl’s head resting softly upon his shoulder. With nowhere to go, everything that’d been possible to say had already been uttered by silenced mouths. The irony did not escape the tattooed man – the one place he’d actually found a sort of freedom had now become a fleapit of imprisonment.

Tommy wrapped her willowy limbs around Ink’s torso as he moved to place his illustrated arm around her quivering shoulders, pulling her in a bit closer to the core of his body heat. With every loss the Morlocks suffered, The Alley seemed to delve deeper into the icy cold, literally and figuratively. A callous frost seemed to be forming on the hearts of its inhabitants. The bombastic Plague and kindly Roadkill seemed to have nearly receded into themselves completely after Tammy’s death and Sonny’s departure, not to mention Skids’ and Plastic’s subsequent flight from the tunnels as well.

The pastel pixie was in danger of drifting off to sleep in a haze of boredom and warmth before Sticker’s shrill cries filled the tunnels with his anxious words...

"Guys! Come quick! Havok's brought SHIELD down to the tunnels!”

“Fuckin’ fuck, Sticker!” the ink-etched man shouted in his morbid surprise.

Tommy started and Eric shot up from the floor, eyes so wide that their crystalline blue shone like beacons in the dark. As Sticker ran past them, still belting out his warnings from hoarse lungs to any who would hear, Ink helped lift the girl up to her feet. “Come on!” he shouted as he ran toward the tunnel that would lead him to Callisto, but Tommy stayed planted.

“W-wait! You go ahead and I’ll meet you there, okay?!” the girl called out.

“God damn it, cuz! Where the fuck are you goin’?”

“What good am I going to be by myself? I’m going for the med kit! We might need it, so just go!”

Ink grumbled, but said nothing as he bolted down the annexing tunnel, his eyes cutting through the shadows as one of his many tattoos pulsed with a faint sensation of power. Though Tommy ran in the other direction for now, it would only take a minute or two for her to grab the medical kit stashed in her room. She was certain that Ink could handle the first response without her and a number of other Morlocks spilled past her on the way, all rushing to the tunnels where Sticker had directed them. Tommy wasn’t worried for the woman who had coolly threatened her with a pistol leveled at her eyes, but the names of Plague, Roadkill, and even Scatterbrain left a piercing impression of worry in the pit of her stomach. The war had begun…
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Tourmaline
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As usual, Sullivan sat alone, tucked away in dark corner with only his dog and books for company. As of late, there seemed to be a dreary cloud hanging above the Alley - more so than usual - and a deafening hush permeated throughout the tunnels as a result. With the Morlocks' leaders driven mad by rage or and outside force, the future of the underground's denizens didn't seem certain. More than once, Sully considered striking out on his one once again, following Plastic and Skids lead. But his conscience knew that wouldn't be a noble decision, not when there were still mutants who needed help and protection. Running away never helped him in the past, and doing so again was simply...imprudent.

With his head in Tourmaline's lap, Hank whined loudly, and it seemed to Sullivan that his canine friend wasn't immune to glum atmosphere. Momentarily setting down his book, he scratched the dog behind the ear and fished the last of the jerky from his coat pocket. As soon as the scent of the meat hit the air, Hank's floppy ears swiveled to attention and his bright eyes focused intently on Sully's closed fist. A rare smile cracked the mutant's crystalline face, and he tossed the treat straight into the air. Before it some much a descended, the beef was snatched from the air and gobbled down greedily. Amused, Sullivan shook his head and resumed reading about Alexander the Great and his conquests. He couldn't help but wonder if a tragic end was a mark inflicted upon all notable leaders.

Just as the golem began a new sentence, a familiar yet unwanted voice echoed down the tunnel. Sullivan's faceted eyes narrowed incredulously as the mutant ran toward the huddled crowd. Ever since the fiasco surrounding Sonny's birthday party, Sticker's continued presence in the tunnel seemed to be a slap in the face. Tourmaline didn't like him, and he certainly did not trust him.

"Guys! Come quick! Havok's brought SHIELD down to the tunnels! They're gonna nab Callisto and the others,"

"Then let them 'nab Callisto', the woman has gone completely mad; as have her minions." He said in response, but no one was listening. "Stop, we should focus on....evading...SHIELD..." But his sentence trailed off as mutants scattered in all different directions, some to flee and others to battle. He wanted to stop Sticker and interrogate him further, and he especially wanted his fellow Morlocks to use their logic, yet all his desires seemed in vain. Directly engaging SHIELD, or even X-Factor would not benefit anyone, yet no one seemed interested in considering the consequences.

Gnashing his teeth, Sullivan threw aside his book and began to chase down his fellows, in the hope that his presence might skew the odds of escape in their favor. "Postman!" He shouted, running backwards as Hank yapped excitedly at his heels. "Clear this area of people, you have to get them out of here...we'll try to slow them down at the very least." And with a last sigh, he turned and trailed after Ink, trying in vain to hail the brash mutant down.
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Ellis Reed
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Energy Manipulation / Wraith Form
It had been a month and a half since they had lost Sonny. Since he had been driven off. Since it had become obvious that things would not be as they were... and since it had become obvious that the majority of the Morlocks would accept the new way of things. Grumbling, perhaps, but none would make a stand. He had no reason to believe he would have anyone behind him if he did so himself. So he waited, his only relief that at least one of the non-combatants were out of the way. One less to protect. He'd followed the girls on their way out, only to make sure they would get out, and not disappear to be found later as a 'casualty of war'. One got away, to the X-Men for protection. The other melted away and he could not find her again. But she didn't concern her so much. She was not quite as silly a thing.

Let them be taken, he thought with some venom, but he stood. The others had been drawn into whatever fucking schemes Callisto had. They trusted her, even mad as she was. If everyone was going to go running to fight SHIELD he wasn't going to let them get slaughtered like so many rabid dogs.

Perhaps he could salvage this, somehow. Bringing SHIELD down into the tunnels... what had she been expecting threatening Alex and his people like that? No, he had to stop thinking she was still using reason. Stop thinking of her as Callisto, even. He couldn't deal with this properly otherwise.

"HOLD," he shouted, voice more than a little hoarse from disuse. Ink and Sullivan had already run off down the tunnel, but he would catch up with them quickly enough. "Fucking keep it together - if we're going to rescue them," he said, standing tall and striding the way Sticker had come to stand in the way. The rest would damn well listen to him before running off.

"If it is a fucking lost cause, you get the hell out of there and I will hold them off," he said, glaring at them. They did not deserve this. With that he vanished, only to reappear with a crackle of energy with the young men racing down the tunnels. He kept stride with them easily with his long legs. If he had to, he would end the fight himself. For both sides. He'd let this go on too long. If this meant exile from the people he'd come to know as family over the last four years, he would make it worth it. And hell at this point he would go with SHIELD willingly, and they were the ones that destroyed his life to begin with.
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Havok
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The group joked around, and discussed stalactites versus stalagmites and Alex smiled genuinely happy about the way this was working. It was like the old days of X-Factor, when they were a small group that worked together for some sort of redemption for the evil they had been lead into or forced to commit. It was a family and one that included people he'd never expected to care about it that way. There was a funny thing about Summerses. Maybe because Scott and Alex had been so young when their family unit crumbled, their adult life was spent building new ones. Maybe because fate had returned them into flotsam and jetsam, they had developed a willingness to sweep in the driftwood, to embrace the strays. It made them good leaders, and it made them good men, though neither of them truly understood why it might be considered a rare trait. Alex, even less often than Scott, thought about what he was doing and why. He just did it because it was the right thing to do.

Their pleasant time, however, was not to last, because there was suddenly a commotion at the city gates.

"Help! Help, Oh, God, Help!"

He reached the door, banging upon it.

"Help! They have dozens if not a hundred people there! They're going to kill everyone! HELP!" He banged at the door again. "Please, please! I don't know if they're following me!"


Alex was instantly on the move. He was a track star from the age of thirteen when he finally found something that was his own, instead of trying to fit into the very large gaping hole that the death of Todd Blanding had left in the lives of his family. His time as one of the mutant race had instilled a great need within him to keep fit and keep fast. Maybe someone would be lost because he didn't have the power to heal or because he was kept from action by some nefarious means, but it would never be because Alex wasn't strong enough, or fast enough, and it would never be because he simply refused to help.

Throwing open the gates, Alex was astonished to find, not the morlock defector he had expected, but instead a human, battered and beaten and scared out of his mind. "Hey, hey, calm down, calm down," he said, pulling the man inside and shutting the gate. "Someone get me a bottle of water," he called out to anyone who followed him, and he sat the man down on one of the stone slabs they'd been using as benches. "My name's Alex, we're good guys ok? We're here to help. How did you get down here and who has people down here? Who's going to kill them? What happened? Calm down and let us help you."
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Morph
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He had more to say, mainly about the fact that mesothelioma is the most hilarious disease. It was fun to say, and really, the only people who got mad were people who had it, and its not like they could catch up with him if he started running because, well, they had mesothelioma.

But he was interrupted hearing someone banging on the door. That was odd. Being about half-mile underground usually meant that the number of door-to-door solicitors was severally cut back. It made getting delivery a pain. It was terrible getting groceries. Really, it was like having a fourth-floor walk-up but even worse.

Of course, it sounded like their visitor was not selling encyclopedias, or handing out Chinese take-out menus. The man's voice was croaking and in pain. It was a hostage situation. It was a "they" that had this guy's group. Considering the underground population of New York, the number of people who lived this deep below...

There was a good chance that it wasn't the Salvation Army, that's all Morph was saying.

"You don't think its the Morlocks, do you?" Morph said. In the split second that it took for Alex to open the door, Morph took the appearance of an every-day human as to not frighten the man any more. When he went for just 'human' without any further thought, he ended up looking a lot like his dad. He always figured this would be what he looked like if he didn't have the X-gene. "I mean, I know we've got a beef with them, but I thought they were hobos, not, you know, CHUDs."

"Where did 'they' get you?" he said. From the briefing on Mutant politics that he got, the Morlocks weren't usually violent. Would they really go this far just over what was essentially a Squatter's rights situation? On the other hand, he was told that Callisto, their leader, had been more and more erratic in the past few days.

"I guess its time for the superhero thing, right?"
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