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| #It Was A Dark and Stormy Night...; [ Captain Britain ] | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 18 2013, 08:02 PM (445 Views) | |
| Rogue | Jun 18 2013, 08:02 PM Post #1 |
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June 14th 9:25pm A cinema in Mutant town [align=center]----------------[/align] Some time ago, Rogue had been visited by an agent on behalf of SHIELD. He had been handsome and charming, but most importantly, fair and benign in his dealings with her. This behavior had been somewhat unprecedented, and it marked her impression of him intensely. So much so that when she heard murmurs of unsavory dealings in her day to day life, she paid extra attention. Brian Braddock had asked for transparency and cooperation on her part, and she was determined to prove that his kindness was not in vain, that he had made the right judgment call when it came to her. The majority of the rumblings were just that. Disgruntled complaints, bigoted bravado, empty threats devoid of actual danger. But her new occupation as a private eye meant she was honing and regularly exercising new skills she never realized existed. She saw patterns everwhere, weaving in and out, coagulating to form something almost coherent, almost real. She saw ticks and turns in behavior lead to twists and turns in motivation. She learned her gut instinct was finely honed, and when things didn’t seem kosher, that she ought to follow up on her suspicions. And that was what led to her most recent discovery. Two known problematic entities were at a bar she frequented. She saw them exchange what seemed to be a leaf of paper. Assuming it was some sort of drug-substance, and hoping to catch them red-handed so she could clean them off the streets, she made good use of her pick-pocketing abilities to snag the aforementioned slip. And what she found confused her; it was but a flyer for a screening of Independence Day at a local small movie theater. It wasn’t until she turned the slip around that she recognized where that uneasy feeling came in – there was what looked to be a modified hashtag in the corner, with the numbers 9:30 circled in marker. That night, she went to the movie theater. She waited to see what would occur. Normal movie goers came and went; but there was a subset of hardened men who stayed an additional two hours after the film ended. Ex-felons, known anti-mutant bigots, rowdy troublemakers, the lot of them. If they were congregating en mass, the result would not be good. She resolved to keep an eye on that development. So when the next wave of posters – this time for ‘Patriot’ – appeared, Annamarie finally put that number to good use. She contacted Brian, explaining her suspicions to the man, before arranging to meet with him across the street from the theater ten minutes before the mysterious showing. And that’s where she was now; in a heavy hooded coat, beneath an awning to avoid the rain. In her pocket was a copy of the ‘flyer’ she had procured, and she clutched it tightly |
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| Captain Britain | Jun 23 2013, 02:54 PM Post #2 |
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Whilst it was not wholly true that you caught more flies with honey than vinegar, the axiomatic sentiment for which it stood was nonetheless true, even at the highest levels of the spy game. There was a reason that people knew who Mata Hari was even in the 21st century when her bullying comrades who preferred threats and intimidation to anti-war shagging had long since faded into the ether of history. It was far easier to bring individuals around to your side by demonstrating the moral superiority of your side and demonstrating it through manners, politeness and simply being a good sport. Brian had demonstrated such an attitude when he had been sent some weeks before to the headquarters of X-Factor Investigations to meet with a young woman who was thought by the organisation to be an unknown but potentially dangerous aspect of their current, divided and assaulted, position. Contrary to the position taken by his SHIELD taskmasters, and entirely within Brian’s personal expectations, Rogue had proven to be a wonderful, compelling and interesting young woman of politeness and dedication to the cause of using her powers for good. Brian, who considered superhuman service to be the contemporary equivalent of the noblesse oblige which had once led to the romantic and romanticised age of chivalry, respected her greatly for that. He had left their first meeting, charmed and happy, and put her from his mind. Somewhere in between street battles with mutant terrorists and aerial naumachia with the King of Atlantis, Rogue had somewhat slipped into the background. That was, until Rogue called him with some very interesting information. SHIELD, of course, was greatly interested in any attempts at anti-mutant or anti-agent violence in the wake of what had occurred with Spiral and her memetic murder spree. Brian was a key part of the mutant division, one of SHIELD’s big powerhouses and a key transfer from the British equivalent offices in STRIKE, along with Agents Wisdom and Orchard, but with a role which encompassed also his superheroic service in spandex, as well as his civilian activities. Rogue was also, with the proud protectiveness which was seen within police agencies all over the world when they found someone who both knew how to get particularly good information and was also one of the rare individuals with charisma sufficient to charm hardened law officers, his informant, his contact. He’d be damned if he’d jeopardise the trust that they had developed by sending along some swaggering cocky moron field agent whose only qualification to SHIELD was that he was just a little too much of a smartarse for the FBI to want to bother with him. Flying unhappily through the heavy rain, Brian could barely see a bloody thing. One would think that living and learning to use his powers in the UK, where rain was as commonplace as tutting, Brian would have learned to deal with rain. You never learned to deal with rain. Especially not when Brian was not wearing his special superhero uniform, intended to deal with all elements with at least some level of durability, but was instead wearing the mundane street clothes which would allow him to retain a certain level of inconspicuousness. As inconspicuous, at least, as a broad-shouldered foreigner of six and a half feet in height, one of the few Englishmen with an accent that sounded like how most Americans imagined all English people sounded, could be. To aid this effort at invisibility, he had avoided his usual dress of fine London-tailored suits in Hebrides-made tweeds. It was a simple ensemble; dark jeans, almost saturated with rain, and a heavy coat over the top. As he descended, soaking, next to Rogue, for a second he was caught beneath the limelight of the street lamp, Captain Britain framed against a poster bearing the words Patriot. You’d almost think it had been planned. Stepping forwards, Brian nodded at Rogue and smiled brightly in spite of the miserable weather and the heavy rain. “Hello, Rogue.” He said, cheerfully. “I came as soon as I could.” He gave a serious glance at the cinema opposite. “Some bloody horrible people, then, eh?” |
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| Rogue | Jun 25 2013, 12:54 AM Post #3 |
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Well, he couldn’t help how picturesque he was; but there was a noble dignity inherent within his persona that really sealed the deal. Brian Braddock was quiet, stoic, and proud. He personified the sort of nationalistic idealism that inspired men and women alike to take up arms in the first place. And this couldn’t help but intrigue Rogue. Sure, he was smart and handsome and noble, but that couldn’t be all, could it? No one person could be quite so good; quite so scripted? It made her want to probe; to delve beneath the surface and find out what made him tick. But this was business not pleasure, so she pushed the thoughts to the side with only a hint of s smile on her face. “S’funny. Ah always expect fireworks to come out right behind ya whenever you show up. A full orchestra t’start playing the British national anthem.” She commented dryly, unable to keep from teasing the poor boy for his wholesome nature. “But howdy, Brian. Ah’m glad t’see you make it.” She nodded over to the cinema across the way. “Ah’ve been keeping an eye on that place for the last thirty minutes or so. Sure ‘nough, a bunch of no good thugs and low lives have been dredgin’ out of the wetworks. Ah tried canvassing the theater earlier; looked up all the blueprints an’ such at city hall, but there doesn’t seem t’be anything special or different about it. There must be somethin’ Ah’m not catching. Something in the movies themselves…which is why Ah brought you here.” She offered him a toothy grin, her white gloves plucking out a pair of movie tickets from her jacket. “You’re buyin’ the popcorn, right sugah?” There was only so much information they could glean from watching on the sidelines. There was risk associated with a move such as this, due partially to Brian’s notoriety, but she doubted the current demographic would be particularly current with SHIELD policies and the alter-egos of superheroes. The only way to know for sure what was going on was to jump in the thick of things and mire oneself within circumstance. And that’s just what Annamarie was planning on doing. Without waiting for confirmation, she swept forward, jogging across the street to try avoid getting soaked as much as possible. |
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| Captain Britain | Jun 25 2013, 04:03 PM Post #4 |
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It seemed to be your standard issue American cinema, from what Brian could see. It was unspeakably disappointing to Brian that drive-through movies, which he always imagined accounted for the majority of American cinemas, were sadly a dying breed. Instead, what he faced was the normal for American cinemas that didn’t involve cars. It was big, had lots of screens and you could buy nachos by the bucket. Brian doubted that there was a single culture other than America where it would be possible to buy any foodstuff by the bucket unless you were a farm animal. It was the stuff truly the stuff from which dreams are made. Appearances, as Brian knew, could be deceiving, and it would appear that something was happening in the cinema that ought not to have been. “I can whistle it, if you like.” Brian replied, deadpan but sarcastic, pursing his lips to quietly whistle out the first bar of God Save the Queen, then cutting it short and grinning at her. “Nowhere I’d rather be than here.” He continued in a somewhat sarcastic vein. Who wouldn’t want to spend their night running around a darkened area being pursued by people who wanted to hurt them just for existing? The entire thing was like a cross between a slasher movie, superpowered Die Hard and a particularly grisly episode of Scooby Doo. If it really was just thugs in there then Brian was pretty glad. Beating up ordinary, unpowered idiotic racists with a pretty girl by his side was about as close as he was going to get to a day off anytime soon, he imagined. He nodded at her. “You recognise anyone?” Specifically, anyone a little higher profile. If this was an ambush then he’d never forgive himself for putting a civilian, even a very smart and capable one, into harm’s way. For all he knew, having not been here but for the past few seconds, the entire place might well have been crawling with high-level terrorists, or possibly Spiral herself. He wouldn’t put it beyond her, truthfully, to show up in the middle of a movie, even if it was just to throw popcorn at the screen or talk on her cellphone. In amongst the horrifying acts of international super-crime, Spiral also seemed like the sort of person who would ruin someone’s movie just to laugh at their distress. Following Rogue across the street, Brian caught up with her just outside the cinema doors. “Do ya thank it’d halp if ah torked in an Americun accent?” He asked, in something which sounded less like an American accent and more like he had suffered some sort of severe head injury. There was a reason why Brian wasn’t send to do much undercover work, besides the fact that he had a Wikipedia page, was the official spokesman for the Visit England tourist agency and regularly appeared on the cover of the Daily Express unmasked, often accompanied by a headline advertising him as CAP BRIT. At her glance, he wilted. “Yeah, okay, normal voice...” He accepted, a little saddened by his inability to do the whole incognito thing. Maybe he could pretend to be a part of the British anti-mutant leagues or something. Despite their generally pro-mutant stance across the pond, there was still a sect of right-wing nutcases and Conservative backbenchers who had a serious problem with the idea of mutant rights. Thankfully for Brian, they were the very definition of “lunatic fringe”. Stepping into the cinema, Brian found it almost entirely empty. “Like a bloody ghost town in here.” Everything was dark, the box office was closed, and the ethereal sounds of a movie playing in the distance could be made out. “What is this? Secret movie night for racists?” He stepped forwards, heading for the main screen from which he could hear sounds coming. In addition to the movie, he could hear loud discussion and talk. Possibly one voice making a speech, with pauses for other people to add their own opinions? He sighed. It was the Nuremberg rallies with a bucket of nachos and some rednecks. Great. |
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| Rogue | Jul 1 2013, 08:55 PM Post #5 |
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“Aww, now that wasn’t sarcasm, was it? It’d break my poor heart right in half,” Rogue drawled right back, her southern inflection peppering the syllables with a rather playful charm. “Ah was rather lookin’ forward to tonight, Redcoat. Figure it has the potential of bein’ rather…fun.” What exactly she meant by that was destined to remain a mystery for the foreseeable future however, as she led the Brit into the movie theater. “From what I know, these guys are small fry. Couple of foiled bank robbers, and an alleged mob henchmen among ‘em, but mostly rabble rousers. But lose the accent, sugah. It’s not your best look.” It was strange to see such a familiar staple of modern society so empty. Arching her brows, she glanced around with a sort of muted curiosity. “Well...Somethin’ tells me we’re in the right place.” She looked to the far corridor where the thin vestiges of sound seemed to be emanating from. Instinctually, she crept forward. “Let’s hope so. Let’s hope all this boils down to is an organized showin’ of Lassie or somethin’, and we’re just bustin’ in on the show.” But the closer they got, the less likely this seemed to be. ”What we need to embrace is the opportunity in the making here.” One voice boomed, with the fire and passion of a professionally trained orator. ”What we need to recognize is what Spiral has given us is not an ultimatum, but a gift! For too long have we been prisoners on our own land, held at the whims of these so called mutants and their unnatural powers. For too long have we been terrorized in our own homes!” There were jeers and catcalls. Rogue turned to Brian with one brow quirked, solemn. ”The politicians have their hands tied with regards to these gene-freaks. The liberal PC agenda will not rest until these god forsaken muties are running around in our schools, our malls. With our children! And now look at what’s happened; one’s holding the world hostage to play at her sick and twisted game! Well, enough I say. I’m not standing for this any longer, and if you’re not either, then let’s do something about it! Let’s hit them in their home, show them what it’s like to be terrified. Let’s show them they’re not welcome in God’s America.” “What’s this, a recruiting drive?” Rogue whispered to Brian, her brows furrowed in concentration. The door before them, separating them from the main event, was large and heavy. It looks to be the type of door to announce their presence, should they attempt to enter now. But there was an air duct beside it, and that gave her ideas. “Give me a hand,” She demanded, before attempting to crawl her way through the air vent to try and find a better vantage point. ”If the thought of this makes you angry, you are not alone. All across the country, good men and women like you burn with the same passion. Meetings just like this one are held every day, and ideas are being discussed. And let me assure you, we will not stand idly by as they take over our fine nation. We will fight, with every measure of our being. And we will start here, in New York, the hub of the country. If Spiral wants dead heroes we will go above and beyond; we will make the streets run red with the blood of their species and we will send a message to them al-“ The orator paused. Rogue winced, having just clanged her head on the top of the metal duct. The speaker, clearly some sort of politician judging by his diction and comfort with public speaking, turned to one of his consorts. “Harry, make sure everything is gravy out there, will you?” Suddenly, the air ducts didn’t seem like such a great idea after all. |
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| Captain Britain | Jul 11 2013, 12:29 PM Post #6 |
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It was a truth universally accepted by every adventurous type from Enid Blyton’s Famous Five to Scooby Doo and beyond: If you heard mysterious whispers in the night emanating from some distant corner of an abandoned building, always walk towards the sinister voices. Utterly lacking in trepidation following Rogue’s assurances that they were not strolling into the arms of Exodus or some other such figure, Brian did not so much creep as he did simply wander down towards the part of the cinema from which he could hear speech. It was true, following his run-in with Spiral in what had at first seemed to be little more than an utterly mundane bar in the middle of New York, he had become rather more wary about the idea of any area being completely free of enemies. For all he knew, any one of the individuals whom Rogue had failed to identify fully could be a member of any dozen enemy organisations. That wasn’t a flaw with Rogue, it was merely a flaw in the nature of intelligence gathering. In an ideal situation, he would have been here earlier and had time to compare the entrants’ appearances with photos on the SHIELD PoI databases, although that raised all sorts of potential compromises were he to be recognised. To truly eliminate all risk of such things, however, Brian knew that it would equally so require a removal of almost all imaginable personal liberties so that the agencies to which people such as he belonged had total knowledge of any action taken. With that in mind, he had no problem with not knowing all the facts. Rogue’s presence, at least, made him feel a lot more capable. Hokey analysis and ancient databases were no match for a good partner at your side. As they got closer, there was a distinct change in Brian’s demeanour. Whilst previously he had been walking in a manner which was, for lack of a more descriptive indicator, utterly inconspicuous, lacking in self-consciousness or control, as the two figures crept ever-closer to the entrance to the entrance to the screen in which the meeting was taking place, he changed, a subtle shifting of body, much like some grand actor preparing for a role, or else the loosening of muscles of an athlete immediately before the big game. He did not shrink or skulk, but his footsteps became measured, he looked down and ahead, trying to calculate the perfect place to step. A creaking floorboard, a rustling carpet, they were as good as a security system if you were sufficiently paranoid. Whilst he did not remove the smirk from his face as Rogue continued to banter, he did not reply. He was preparing himself for a fight, trying to imagine numbers, trying to think through the amount of exertion he could afford if he wanted to merely harm, but not necessarily seriously or permanently damage, the chaps within the theatre. He did not tell Rogue that, between the all-white small-town America presented and the fact that all of the inhabitants of said town relying upon a singular, superior being of unknowable motive and transvestite habits for their safety and comfort, Lassie was amongst the most sinister tales ever captured on film, and about as close as American cinema had ever gotten to making their very own Triumph of the Will. Listening to the full detail of the speech required only minimal concentration due to Brian’s enhanced hearing, but when Rogue turned to him with a question he nonetheless responded with merely a shake of the head. He could have said more, but to hear such hate and to hear it said in such an honest fashion, with such support...it made bile rise in Brian’s throat, it made his fists ball into fists without him even realising that he had done it. The very idea that what this man was saying was to make sense to anyone made him pity the world and scared him that it had such people in it. Thankfully, his rage was broken by the request of Rogue to help her uncover the nearest air vent. “I seriously hope you’re not expecting me to follow you.” Whilst the prospect of following Rogue’s rear along a lengthy shaft was certainly a pleasant one, Brian was a little big to go John McClane-ing his way through the ventilation system. With a deft bit of superhuman strength, Brian popped the perimeter of seals holding the cover in place with nothing more than a soft metallic plink like a glockenspiel. A couple of seconds later, Rogue added her own contribution to the Symphony of Air Vent in D Major, when she struck her head on the vent, drawing the attention of everyone inside. This was the reason that air vent escapes were only used in movies, Brian reflected. Moving quickly, the first thing that Brian did was drag Rogue out of the air vent by her ankles. “Sorry,” he hissed. He had to do this with the greatest possible speed, and having his only back up trapped halfway into a big tube like Winnie the Pooh did him no favours at all. The next thing that Brian did was press his back against the corner that one turned upon exiting the doors of the screen in which the meeting was taking place. As “Harry” came out of the darkened screen, all he saw for a brief moment was an empty hallway, one of the other screens of the multiplex opposite and a concessions stand with popcorn. As he began to turn to see if anything was behind him, Harry was gripped from behind by an enormous hand. Brian clamped his whole fist around Harry’s mouth, holding him beneath his chin all the way up to over his top lip. Harry didn’t even let out a muffled scream as Brian lifted him and swung him into the nearest wall. Recalling an earlier part of the figure inside’s speech, Brian glared at the man, made sure he had his full attention, their eyes locked together. “Do I look terrified?” He spat. He did not look terrified. He looked furious, righteous and powerful. The man let out a bit of a squeal, then Brian’s tight hold and the realisation that such strength could only come from a mutant seemed to dawn on him. His eyes rolled back in his skull, and Brian delicately placed him on the floor. He was an anti-mutant bigot, but Brian wouldn’t do any further harm to him, he was already neutralised. “Sorry about that.” He said to Rogue, aware that such a display of anger probably did nothing to help her see SHIELD Agents as a benevolent force. “I think I just bought us a few seconds.” It was what they did with that time that mattered. |
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| Rogue | Jul 16 2013, 06:45 PM Post #7 |
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It was unsurprising that Brian, as a premier agent of SHIELD, would be prepared to improvise when things began to sour. He reached into the vent and yanked her out without a second’s hesitation, and she only had time to utter out a muttered yelp in response. Once freed, she stuck to the shadows, nursing her bruised head and even more painfully bruised ego with a frown. Granted, she was fairly new at this whole espionage and noir deal, but it wasn’t an easy pill for a girl like Annamarie to swallow, knowing that it was due to her that the mission was going south. Which, in retrospect, seemed fairly obvious. Movies weren’t exactly known for their accuracy when it came to real life applications. Brian, however, thrived in such an atmosphere. He accosted Harry before the burly man even had the opportunity to register what was going on, and the grace with which the Captain moved was something to behold. And his fury… Annamarie was familiar with rage and all of its subsidiaries. She spent the majority of her formative life harboring and cultivating grudges against her real family, against the mutants and humans who could enjoy something as simple as a touch without having to fear the worst, and most of all, against herself for being unable to control the mutation that dominated her existence. But Brian’s anger did not seem fueled by the selfish whims of singular experiences, or the pride of one man. When he roared and loomed over his opponent, he did so with authority and valor. And it was in that moment that she understood why he was chosen to represent the people; why he was deemed worthy and anointed as a hero. And it was in that moment that she realized why she had taken to him so well, so easily. The last person she met with that righteous collective indignation and charisma had been Magneto. And while the mutant terrorist had his share of issues, there was no doubting his dedication to mutants and his causes. And for the life of her, Rogue couldn’t decide whether this similarity was a good thing or a bad one. “Don’t worry about it, sugah,” She spoke, eyeing the disposed bigot before drawing her feline eyes over to the hulking Braddock. She inspected him slyly, with consideration. “Y’know, it’ll only take a few seconds for me ta know what he knows...” She crouched down beside the man, already pulling back on her snow white gloves, but no action was made. She was looking to Brian for approval. She was determined to find out just what kind of man lay inside the famed Lion of Avalon. |
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| Captain Britain | Jul 26 2013, 01:53 PM Post #8 |
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All it had taken was that one blow and suddenly this matter had gone from something merely interesting to something which required Brian’s full attention and consideration. An international law enforcement and espionage agency like SHIELD dealt with threats of this nature on a nearly daily basis, and had it not been for the fact that Rogue was the one who had flagged this up then chances were this would have attracted only a small group of SHIELD’s black-suited foot soldier agents. It was that Brian trusted Rogue, and had an interest in keeping her both safe and happy as well as treating her with the dignity and grace she deserved as both a lady with whom he had a rapport and a tactical and intelligence asset to the organisation, that had drawn him to the gathering. The fact that they functioned with sentries and guards and political leadership with speechmaking, rallying, that made the entire thing more dangerous. It only took one spark to start a fire, after all. If there were rioting in this part of New York in the name of anti-mutant, anti-hero sentiment and it then spread its stygian wings towards Mutant Town, then the area would burn. Mutant Town was enough as a powder-keg as it was. Ghettoisation of the most genetically powerful and politically divisive group in American culture, it was a poorly thought-out move which you would never have encountered in Britain or Europe. The Americans had many positive aspects to their society, but their social equality needed serious work for the land of the free. It was good to know that Rogue understood the need for rage. Brian found it all too easy to utilise that specific variety of anger, the pure moralistic fury that flooded him at times when he saw injustice and prejudice against his people. Whilst Brian did not make a big deal out of his status as a mutant, did not declare himself a mutant supremacist or any other such bold move, it was not something which he was shy about either. At home in Britain he was one of the most recognisable celebrities there was and aside from the brief more-than-rumours that the tabloids had run about his drinking (rapidly covered up by the public relations people of STRIKE, who wielded more power with their Blackberry and blackmail material on every newspaper editor on Fleet Street than Brian did on his most confident of days), his scandal-free and positive persona meant that he had done wonders for Britain’s mutant population. When he saw the racism of the Americans against mutants, it made his stomach twist and churn. He smiled at Rogue and nodded as she told him not to worry, but when she spoke up about absorbing the man’s knowledge he frowned indecisively. Brian was making a countdown in his head, the minutes before they realised that their Harry wasn’t coming back. It depended on a broad range of factors: the personal paranoia of their leader, whether or not the men inside were brave enough to head out in what was basically a single-file line into the arms of something that had already claimed one of their own and the general reliability of Harry. For all the men inside knew, he had taken thorough advantage of his being sent out of class to nip off to the toilets or run away from a meeting which he didn’t really want to be involved in anyway. That depended entirely on factors that Brian did not know. He stuck with what he did know, which was that this was both a political meeting and a violent rally, and therefore breaking the flow of speech and psychological rabble-rousing which were required in order to keep tempers at fever pitch for the sake of a single member of their group was unlikely given the comparatively large size of the organisation. That gave him a few seconds longer than he would have had to consider Rogue’s proposal, such as it was. It was a judgement call, and like all judgement calls it was dual-sided. On the one hand, it was a beautiful tactical advantage to suddenly gain the full knowledge of a man who had just been stood in the middle of the room into which they were almost certainly going to need to have a fight. On the other hand, Brian disliked the thought of Rogue absorbing more than just a little knowledge. She could wind up picking up parts of his personality, or else find that he was not so easily dismissed. That would not merely be a failure from a professional sense, Brian would feel personal guilt from compromising Rogue in any way. He already knew that no matter what happened to him or what he had to do, she was going to come out of this little mission smiling and as pretty and unharmed as she had been at the start of it. He let her reach to touch the man and gain his knowledge, but then reached out himself and grabbed her wrist delicately, making sure not to make skin-to-skin contact himself. Brian’s powers were similar but greater than the complement of abilities Rogue usually possessed, but they relied upon a variety of unpredictable factors, specifically psychological state and confidence. It had taken Brian months and years before he had been able to teach himself to maintain such levels of confidence and whilst he had faith in Rogue, he was not sure that anyone could maintain the confidence that he required to function at his optimal level. “Wait,” he said, letting go so as to show that he just wanted her to stop, and didn’t want to hurt her himself. “Will it hurt you?” The concern in his voice was completely evident. He did not want any innocent or civilian- and he considered Rogue to be both- party to come to harm today. |
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| Rogue | Aug 6 2013, 01:01 AM Post #9 |
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His show of concern caught Rogue off guard. She had figured that any objections he might harbor about the use of her powers would stem from an ethical point of view, not a sentimental one. But, if there was anything she had learned over the years it was to expect the unexpected. She was well-versed in the art of improvisation. And, as far as things went, this was a rather pleasant surprise all things considering. Her lips curled into a smile touched with that southern sass she seemed to comfortable wearing – just a hint playful and a touch sly, like she knew something no one else did – and slowly she rose to try and face Captain Britain to the best of her ability. He towered over her, but her eyes locked with his nonetheless. “You’re really cute when ya worry, did you know that?” She commented happily, the tip of her gloved index finger trailing down the inside of his forearm in the ghost of a touch. A teasing touch. But there was an edge to her eyes – a determination and confidence that radiated through her being. She might have been a southern belle, but she was no damsel in distress, and she never would be. Not after the ordeal with the skrulls. “But you don’t gotta worry about me, sweetheart. Ah may not be able to turn my gifts off, but you can be rest assured that Ah know how to use ‘em.” The way she averted her eyes might have been considered shy, if the gesture had come from any other woman. But the cunning smile on her face as she plucked off her glove revealed that it was no such thing. “Maybe some day you’ll see just how gifted Ah am, eh handsome?” She crouched down and almost delicately pressed her fingers to the unconscious man’s temple. And in the blink of an eye, her being was bombarded with intel. The human mind was nothing but a network of connections. A structure built to store and transfer information. Within the fleshy pulp of her brain millions upon billions of tiny tubes existed with the sole purpose of transferring information from one place to another. And what her touch did was merely extend the scope of those tubes to the brain of another, and meld them together into one. His brain was hers; connected to her in a way that went beyond telepathy. She wasn’t merely observing his experiences, she was adopting them as her own, becoming the man. All that he felt, all the rage and misplaced anger, and bigotry was there alongside his memories, and they became a part of her too. But she was too strong, too experienced to let a common thug overwhelm her. Pulling away with a gasp, she furrowed her brows in concentration. As she slid her hand back into the gloves that were a staple in her daily uniform, she compartmentalized the bits of Harry that she absorbed and shoved them to the side. Sober as could be, she turned to Brian. “It’s a bomb. They’re planning on blowing up City Hall on Independence Day and blaming it on mutants. Brian…” ”Harry? Yo, you there?” Came a voice from the other side of the auditorium. Sensing the danger of the moment, she quickly summoned her superior strength and hiked the fallen thug into her arms before swiftly making her way down the corridor. “C’mon! We know why, when, where and what – we can’t lose this advantage. Especially since there seems to be an entire organization involved with the ‘who’. If they figure someone’s on to them, they might change the plan!” Which meant they needed to do something with Harry, and they needed to do it fast. |
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| Captain Britain | Aug 6 2013, 02:36 PM Post #10 |
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“Hey, I take offence to that.” Brian commented, feigning upset at Rogue’s comments with an expression so hangdog it ought to have been arrested for animal cruelty. “I’m cute all the time.” He spoke with the same absolute confidence in himself which powered both his superhuman abilities and his status as a national icon. He wore a flashbulb-right smile, and there was a wink implied but not actually given. A little friendly banter never hurt anyone, and Rogue was a good looking woman. She was also fun, sassy and given that special hint of spice, confidence and tenacity which American women hoarded and British women could never dream of having. Rogue’s next words put him quickly at ease, though. He was so used to working with the almost omnicapable agents of SHIELD that he was perhaps guilty of wrapping others in cotton wool due solely to the fact that it was hard not to underestimate the everyman after seeing the precise range of skills required of their protectors. Rogue, though, was far from the everywoman, and Brian concluded that between alien invasions, membership in the kind of terrorist organisations which sent world leaders to bed with bad dreams and spending months at the detective agency which ran the parts of Mutant Town’s security that NYPD didn’t want to touch, she probably knew how to handle her own far more intricate and delicate powers even more than he knew how to handle his own. Brian’s powers, after all, consisted of an ability to hit things hard and be hit hard. Rogue had all that and infinitely more. Rogue’s momentary cheek completely caught Brian off-guard, and he let out a brief bark of laughter and then had to worry that it had been heard. Thankfully, it hadn’t. He supposed that in a room full of aggressive, competitive, meat-headed men, there would be at least some laughter, probably of the bad-natured kind, and his own brief laugh must have blended in enough to be inconspicuous. “Keep your mind on the mission.” He said, good-naturedly, laughter still evident in his voice. “Business first, pleasure second.” He looked up and down the corridor, certain that whatever was going to happen when Rogue touched the attacker, it was best that he assumed that it was going to leave her incapacitated. Brian had met a mutant while working with STRIKE who could “borrow” people’s senses one at a time, and the process of taking over their mind always left them with momentary vulnerability. It hardly mattered anywhere else, but this situation was fraught and they were on the clock. As Rogue touched the unconscious Harry, Brian felt oddly uncomfortable. The entire process, the touch and the exchanging of information, it was the very definition of intimacy. Watching it seemed voyeuristic, rude and uncomfortable. Once he had ascertained that the process was not causing Rogue any damage, Brian turned away to give her privacy. He was a man raised upon a diet of manners and consideration, and he didn’t want to cause a lady any embarrassment by looking at her during a private moment. Turning back after a brief interlude, during which he looked at a wall and thought about England and just generally tried to keep his mind off of the rather strange genetic and psychic tradeoff occurring a few feet from him. It was not that he found it disturbing, on the contrary he thought that it was something close to miraculous. He would have adored the chance to study the phenomenon up-close, to really assess what it was that allowed it to function and to grant Rogue the abilities which she took. It could entail a whole variety of scientific breakthroughs, discovering whether or not memories were genetic, and to what extent one was separable from one’s experiences was a question which had plagued natural philosophy since before the days of Descartes and the development of scientific thought. Rogue was intriguing for a great deal of reasons, especially to Brian, and listing them would hardly be an easy matter. In a moment, Brian had absorbed what she was saying about a bomb and decided that Rogue was the greatest tactical asset that SHIELD had ever been presented with. He also felt a spike of rage. As a mutant, how dare they try to frame their own disgusting actions upon his people? He let out something that was virtually a growl of rage and then another voice spoke up. Brian’s head shot up to make eye contact with the door. He was tempted to jump in fist-first and simply punch his way through the crowds and ask questions later. Rogue spoke enough sense that Brian accepted that his immediate thought was a bad idea. He could hear someone coming down towards the door, and Brian had to act fast. “Sorry about this.” He said, grabbing Rogue around the waist as he grabbed Harry by the collar. He took to the air, lifting the three of them to the hallway’s ceiling. Pressing himself tightly against it, he glanced down at the group as they came through the door and glared around for their friend. No one ever looked at the ceiling, so they could hide out up here safely. In theory. |
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| Rogue | Aug 7 2013, 08:14 PM Post #11 |
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“Wh-whoa!” Rogue couldn’t help but yelp out her surprise when she was so expertly swept off of her feet the man. It was really a shame that the expression was used in an entirely literal sense here. But Brian had a plan, and she had a bird’s eye view of just how appropriate timed the plan was when she witnessed the auditorium door creak open and a handful of other nameless grunts wander out into the hallway in search of their wayward companion. Upon seeing them, her muscles tensed reflexively. Like a coiled spring, she was prepared to jump into action at a moments notice if need be. But as Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb ambled down the hallway in blissful ignorance, she compelled herself to relax. She wrapped her arms around Brian’s neck, edging into a more natural body position to relieve some of the tension of dangling via one express point. Her eyes fluttered shut, bereft in thought, and she rested her temple against the broad chest of the Lion of Avalon. She would allow no moment to go to waste while they were on the job; and luckily the sort of job they were pulling was just the sort of thing she was familiar with. It was little more than common theft. They were strangers sneaking through the night to steal away with a bit of information that they had no right to. It harkened back to her adolescence - back when she used to swipe more than just terrorist plot in the name of Darwinism – and as a result she knew just what to do. Proceed with stealth. Approach with caution. Leave with no traces. But the greatest thieves went above and beyond those platitudes – they took from you in a manner that left you absolutely ignorant of the fact that you were being left wanting. And what’s what they needed to do here – they needed to clean up the loose end in Brian’s hand, and make it so they were never even there. Lifting her head once the coast had been cleared, Rogue sought out Brian’s eyes with a sly smile. “You know, this is actually kind of nice give or take the third wheel over there,” she tapped Brian on the shoulder a few times, gesturing for them to return to the floor. “But we need to find a bathroom stall, stat.” As they were in a public forum, it was not difficult to find themselves a Men’s Bathroom with an open stall. Under Rogue’s instructions, the bigot named Harry was posed precariously upon a toilet. Then, out of the blue, Rogue rose up into the air and punched a hole through the tiled ceiling of the bathroom, sending a flood of debris over the fallen man. Wrenching a pipe from the plumbing beyond the walls, Rogue returned to the floor, whacked the already unconscious villain over the head with the pipe, and unceremoniously threw the tool to the ground. There it was. Their cover-up. The subsequent erasing of their only loose end. When the supremacists came by and found the man unconscious in the rubble, they would merely assume that a pip exploded in a freak accident and managed to knock him unconscious. Any blathering he would do with regards to Captain Britain would no doubt be taken as a dream or a hallucination. Wiping her hands off, she turned to Brian with a grin. “Pullin’ down a grown man’s pants - Ah bet that’s not what you expected to be doin’ today, was it?” |
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8:55 AM Jul 11